It was midway through my Sophomore year playing football at Dodge City Community College when it happened. I was playing offensive guard and a screen play was called in the huddle. At the snap I took my pass set and then sprinted out to my zone, looking to pancake the first guy that crossed my face. Smack! I collided with an outside linebacker and fought to cut off his pursuit of the play. Then the play ended with a pile of people rolled up on my leg and I felt it, an audible pop and a jolt of pain that accompanied it. I went down.
I remember laying on the field in pain thinking “Please Lord, don’t let this be serious”, for that’s exactly what I thought it was. I had to be assisted off the field with the help of two trainers where they immediately took me to their table to assess the extent of my injury. As I sat there hoping for the best, but expecting the worst, the head trainer was asking me all kinds of questions. “Where does it hurt?”, and “What happened?” He then began to perform tests on my knee. He pulled it and turned it all kinds of different ways and did all this without saying much. I continued to grow nervous.
In the middle of the head trainers testing, the doctor for the other team had come over to offer any help. After quickly being informed of what happened and what hurt he began the exact same tests that the other trainer was just doing. After he was finished, he walked away with the head trainer and they were discussing something, I assumed my injury. At this point I was growing rather annoyed. I just wanted to know what was wrong. Shortly after they both returned and judging by their demeanour, the news wasn’t good.
“I’m sorry to tell you this Chandler, but your trainer and I agree that it appears your tore your ACL and MCL.” I felt like someone had punched me to the gut. This was the worst news I could have heard at the time. “Now what”, I thought? “What am I gonna do if I can’t play football. How am I gonna afford school next year?!” These were just a few of the questions going through my mind. After getting cleaned up, I called to tell my folks what happened. They were just as upset as me. It was a longer than usual bus ride back to Dodge City that evening.
The next morning I got up an hour earlier than usual because I knew I would need the extra time to get ready for church. As you can imagine I was still feeling gloomy and in all honesty didn’t feel like worshiping the Lord that day, but I went anyway cause I knew it was the right thing to do. I didn’t have crutches yet so I walked with a significant limp. Upon arrival at the church, many people approached me concerned and wanted to know what happened. I told them what the trainer and doctor had told me, and that I would appreciate their prayers for healing. Many told me they would definitely be lifting me up in prayer and to keep them informed. I told them I would.
Monday morning rolled around and it was time to go see a specialist there in Dodge City. I waited what seemed like forever to see the doctor then finally my name was called. I was escorted into the back to wait a few more minutes in a small little doctors office with numerous diagrams of the human body on the wall. The doctor came in reading my chart and got right to work testing my knee just like the others, no small talk. After he finished, he told me what I didn’t want to hear for the 3rd time in 3 days – that I had indeed torn my ACL and MCL. It hurt the most hearing it from him, because his opinion all but confirmed my devastating injury. After all, he was knee specialist. I asked him what my time table for recovery would be and what the next steps were. He told me 6-9 months and that I needed to get an MRI before I left that day, and that once he saw the results he would schedule a day for surgery. After my MRI I left, feeling more defeated than I could ever remember.
I was told to expect a call in the next two days regarding the specific results of my MRI. So a day past then two and…no call. Day 3 came and went and so did day 4. Finally on day 5 I got a call that I will never forget. It was the specialist and he told me he was looking at the results of my MRI and didn’t see anything torn in my knee. “Come again”, I said. “I don’t see anything wrong with your knee”, he repeated. I couldn’t believe it and he didn’t either! He then told me to come in the next day cause he wanted to test my knee again and see for himself. So that’s exactly what I did.
The next day I sat there with him pulling and turning my knee every which way for the second time. He then took a step back appearing confused. “I don’t how to explain it Chandler, but your knee appears to be completely fine.” I was overjoyed! I practically skipped out of his office that day and went right to the locker room to get ready for practice.
There was a time when I didn’t give God credit for this story. I just chalked it up to the doctors being wrong. However, looking back what are the chances of three different, professionally trained medical experts being wrong? The only other way to explain it that makes any sense is that I was hurt and the Lord healed me. It’s still hard for me to wrap my mind around. I experienced a miracle of God and for so long I didn’t even notice. Has that ever happened to you? Have you ever been hurt or sick and then gotten better all of the sudden despite what doctors told you? Perhaps that was the Lord healing you too and perhaps it’s time you start giving him some credit if you haven’t already.
