Post-Traumatic Growth -- FPC sermon excerpt

When the bomb went off on a road near Baghdad, Hilbert Caesar thought his life was over.

What he discovered was … it was just beginning.

According to The Washington Post (November 26, 2005), Army staff sergeant Caesar was in charge of a long-range howitzer — a self-propelled gun that resembles a tank. He was out on patrol in Iraq when a roadside bomb exploded. When the smoke cleared, Caesar looked down and saw that his right leg was severed in three places, just dangling by the skin. He tried to give his machine gun to a fellow soldier, but discovered it was bent. Then he yelled for the howitzer hatches to be closed, and thought to himself, “Oh man. This is it. My life is over.”

But he didn’t die. The insurgents responsible for the attack disappeared, and Caesar was transported to safety. At Walter Reed Hospital, his missing limb was replaced with an artificial leg of plastic and steel.

Still, he felt despair about his future. He was in pain, and was worried that he’d never be able to run again, or be attractive to women. He received word that eight men from his platoon had been killed by a car bomb in Baghdad, including one of his role models. The news was devastating.

But little by little he began to shift focus. Caesar met other injured soldiers and heard them talk about their recoveries. He began to look for the best, and realized that he was fortunate to make it back from battle with just one missing limb. “I’m grateful for that,” he told The Washington Post. “I’m thankful for just being here.”

Caesar now completes marathons in racing wheelchairs, and has found a job with the U.S. Department of Veterans Affairs. He sees the loss of his leg as a minor setback, and believes that he has come out of the war with more wisdom, compassion, and appreciation for life.

Hilbert Caesar has experienced “post-traumatic growth.”

A number of psychiatrists and psychologists are beginning to see that not all soldiers return from war with shattered spirits. A number are emerging from the experience feeling enhanced. Now this is not to say that war is desirable or healthy or good. But it can lead to personal growth.

Same thing happened to the apostle Paul after he was stabbed with a thorn in the flesh (2 Corinthians 12:7). We don’t know exactly what this thorn was, although biblical scholars have suggested that it could have been anything from epilepsy to stuttering, depression to eye problems. What’s important is that Paul considered this affliction to be a painful trap or torture designed to take him out of the spiritual battle plan.

Back in the first century, sharpened wooden stakes were often placed in pits, with the hope that enemy soldiers would fall on them and be impaled. They were also used as a method of torture. Sharpened stakes were the roadside bombs of the ancient world, and they were described in Greek by the word skolops — the exact same word that Paul uses for his thorn in the flesh.

So Paul was stabbed — by a messenger of Satan, he says — “to torment me, to keep me from being too elated” (v. 7). He could have given up, assuming that his life as an apostle was over. But instead, he discovered that it was just beginning.

Three times he pleaded with the Lord to remove the skolops, but God said to him, “My grace is sufficient for you, for power is made perfect in weakness” (v. 9).

Power is made perfect in weakness. As amputee Hilbert Caesar says, “It makes me appreciate life a whole lot more.”