My Miracle of Brokenness

My Miracle of Brokenness

A Most Incredible Week

By: Steven Ashley Currieo, M.D.

God has shown me this summer just a glimpse of what He longs to do throughout Christendom. He wants to reveal His presence and His glory to His people. He wants to fill our hearts and our homes, our churches and our ministries with His love and His Spirit. He wants to pour out His grace on the dry, thirsty ground of our lives. He wants to restore our "first love" for Jesus, to rekindle the fire of devotion that once burned brightly in our hearts, to reconcile broken or strained relationships, and to rebuild the parts of our lives that are in a state of disrepair. In short, He wants to revive our hearts. And it all begins with brokenness and humility. No exceptions. No shortcuts. No substitutes.

Until this past week, brokenness to me had been more of a theological concept. A concept that I had begun longing for several months ago, but it was still nothing more to me than a desirable concept. That is until last Sunday night. That is when everything began to change in my life. So much so that my very life's direction has been turned completely around.

I was nearly 80% of the way through a book I had picked up on brokenness at the local LifeWay bookstore near my office a couple of months ago [Brokenness: The Heart God Revives by Nancy Leigh DeMoss]. I had found it to be so meaningful and timely that I had also begun reading it with my daughter Alli … because, wouldn't you know, she needed to become more broken. Prideful people seem to have a way of seeing the unbrokenness of others.

I had completed the chapter highlighting the personality differences between a proud person and a broken person. Sadly I saw myself on the prideful side almost every time. Yet, I became almost proud that there were at least a few prideful traits that I didn't seem to struggle with. Good grief! It doesn't get much worse than the condition of my soul. There was no question in my mind that I had a problem. But there was still that prideful man inside of me who did not appear to be leaving anytime soon and he certainly wasn’t just willing to lie down and die. No it looked a lot more like he was going have to be killed if there was ever going to be life without him around. And I have learned in a very personal way that God is not above that.

Fast forward to Sunday morning June 22 at approximately 9:10 AM. I rushed into our kitchen after spending an hour at our future home site videotaping the guts of our new home [wires, plumbing, ductwork … just exactly where everything would be located once the drywall went up]. Only one thing, it took longer than I had expected and I was out of time if I was to be able to meet my family and arrive together at church on time. Keeping up appearances is a big deal in the life of the unbroken. So I had called ahead to my wife Janna to toast and butter a couple of bagels for me and to be sure that everyone would be ready to walk out the door within five minutes of my arrival at home. It is with those expectations that I burst through the kitchen door only to find the bagels had burned and that no one was ready to leave. I couldn't hide my exasperation and Janna felt it, though in a more subtle "Christian" manner. Sadly too, I later learned, did my spiritually insightful daughter Ashley. In fact, not much gets past Ashley … her spiritual antenna have seemingly always been innately radar-locked on the Holy Spirit's wavelength. If there's one thing Ashley gets, it's brokenness; always has and I'm fairly certain, always will.

She didn't appreciate the way her mother had been treated and though she said "nothing", she actually said "everything." In fact, I believe it was her silent prayer to our Heavenly Father that set into motion a chain of events that will forever change my life and the life of my family. Her simple request to God was that "my dad seems to want to become a broken man, but it's not happening God. Please make it happen for him."

Later that same night we attended a beautiful "koininia" dinner at our church where the people who had joined our fellowship over the past year were recognized and honored. In fact, it was Ashley and to a lesser extent Alli at whose insistence we even attended. They seem to love "potluck" food. Whoever heard of that? Something real to eat and not something from a drive thru. These are different children that I'm raising. Certainly far different than me at their ages. I had actually thought I was "too busy" to attend. The lot was an absolute mess and needed a thorough cleaning. And then there was still the upstairs to videotape. But in a rare moment of sensitivity I agreed to let my family attend. And we had a lovely time of fellowship with His body.

But time waits for no one and we had to rush back to finish the videotaping so Ariel could catch a cable TV movie that started at 8 PM. That would be one cable movie that went unwatched. After mere minutes at the home site, I became the victim of falling sheetrock in our upstairs game room that shattered my left ankle and nearly severed my foot. I was completely trapped beneath the stack of drywall and both Janna and Ariel were powerless to free me. God had my complete attention at last. Waves of the most immense pain imaginable, check that, unimaginable, coursed through my foot, ankle and leg. I can only describe this pain as if you could imagine a 6 inch diameter steel rod heated to nearly 2,000 degrees and then jammed up through my heel into my ankle and finally up through my lower leg to just below my knee in a recurring manner lasting seemingly between 5 to 15 seconds each time followed by maybe one to two minutes of just intense pain prior to the next paroxysm.

My foot lay six inches or so to the left of my leg connected only by a sock that seeped large quantities of blood. Little did I know at the time, but even then God was watching over me, because as I lay there helpless He allowed my life-giving arteries and power-supplying nerves to remain intact while virtually all else was no more than a twisted mesh of sinew.

Both Janna and Ariel were horrified to find me in such a state and after several minutes of futilely trying to free me they fanned out across the neighborhood in search of help. Help that at the time seemed slow to come and I finally felt and was all alone. Just me and God and all I could think of beside the pain was a verse my pastor Erik Braun had quoted that very same morning at our church (yes, I arrived in time to hear it) prior to a chorus that referenced it, "Naked I came from my mother's womb, and naked I will depart. The Lord gave and Lord has taken away; may the name of the Lord be praised." (Job 1:21)

It was hot up in that game room. So very, very hot! And then I was joined by Janna again. This time with the company of four beautiful future neighbors who quickly lifted those sheets of drywall off my leg. Janna and I promptly moved my leg to freedom. Somehow, the pain eased only slightly. And for the first time, I saw the extent of the damage looking down only to see the sole of my sneaker looking up at me and sitting aside my leg. The pain again quickly intensified. But all of those people and especially my precious wife Janna spoke nothing but encouragement to me. She said to me over and over, "Steve, it will be all right! Steve, it will be all right!" But my years of medical training had taught me when I saw what I had just beheld that there was great peril in my prognosis. And I told her in return, "No, Janna. This is bad! I can easily lose my foot" Nothing more. Nothing else needed to be said. She had already innately feared the worst.

EMS had been activated and would arrive within about 20 minutes. Once there I heard the voice of the paramedic sizing up the situation and then calling the TMH Emergency Department. Why did it have to take so long for the ER physician to come to the phone??? Didn't he know it was one of his own lying victim on the other side of that cell phone connection? Pride dies a slow death. And why after pleading with the paramedic did the ER physician decide to use morphine as my analgesic and not Demerol which is so much more effective for me? God has since shown me that this would be my first experience of relinquishing control. That control-freak inside of me had also to die. Someone else would be calling the shots now.

Once the IV was secured and a fluid expansion was begun the paramedic poured the morphine into my veins. First 5 mg and no response. Then another 5 mg and still no response. Lastly the final 5 mg I was allowed prior to boarding the ambulance and still not much response. Why did I know this was going to happen?

And then it was time for what I had most feared (for nearly an hour now). It was time to "set" my foot or to at least move it into some semblance of alignment with my leg. I couldn't be moved, secured to the back board, brought down the stairs, loaded into the truck or taken to the hospital until this horrific event had transpired. I can't begin to describe the agony of that moment when my foot came into a position within about 30 degrees of alignment with my leg. There are no words that approximate that moment. I am now listening God!

And finally it was time for them to turn their attention to getting me "secured" [medical speak for "hog-tied"] to that back board that would become my companion for the next two hours. Once secured, I was then transported head-first down a flight of stairs with a directional landing at midpoint and onto a gurney, into the ambulance and on to the hospital. And while en route I received those last 5 mg of morphine which in total likely reduced my pain by no more than 25% [and I'm being generous here].

Once in the new Bixler Emergency Department pain relief came within what now is a relatively short time of 15-20 minutes. But not before I was taken from one room in the ER to another room this time specializing in Trauma with a capital "T". The docs changed shifts and the doctor who ordered my morphine never really assumed my case. It, not surprisingly, looked to be somewhat lengthy and involved. I was able to convince Dr. Jurgaitis my new emergency physician that Demerol had previously been much more effective in reducing my pain than morphine back in 1991 when I had suffered a kidney stone (I have no idea why I am morphine resistant). I also can truthfully testify that kidney stones are NOT the most painful thing that can afflict a human. Thankfully, he agreed to allow my analgesic to be changed. Finally, 2-3 hours after it had begun, it at last began to get better. God you have my full attention now!

Lots of x-rays were taken. Of course, none were needed to know that I was a pre-op patient but they were more to ensure that no other previously undiagnosed injury had been sustained. Not that I hadn't told first the neighbors, then the paramedics and finally the ER crew the same story. Something about procedure and, no doubt, the medical malpractice liability climate in our state and country these days. When convinced that the "only" thing injured was my entire ankle complex it was time to turn the case over to Dr. David Bellamy. I had requested the Tallahassee Orthopedic Clinic physician on-call while still on the ambulance truck far away from the ER. I could have been placed in no finer hands than those of Dr. Bellamy's. As I was being readied for surgery he took time to counsel Janna as to just what we were up against here. She was hoping more for a pep talk from him, but Dr. Bellamy laid it right on the line. This was, indeed, a very risky time for me. He was relieved that I had already so informed Janna. He knew that I knew. We were all on the same page. Little did I know then though, but God had already turned the page.

It was now His time!!! God used Dr. Bellamy to set me straight. Piece by piece I came back together. Two and a half hours later it was finished. My anatomy was as good as it would probably get. Dr. Bellamy lamented about my posterior tibial tendon the other half of which was no where to be found. But enough searching for one night had been done. I spent about an hour in the recovery room and was finally headed to my hospital bed at about 2:30 A.M., just under seven hours following the accident. And thankfully, this time I was given Demerol for pain relief (there really is a God!) this time by PCA pump (patient-controlled analgesia). I sorely did long to be back in control again. And I greatly feared a return of the previous night's pain. But God would not leave me in control for long, and my pump was abruptly discontinued as no longer necessary twelve hours later. Again someone else deciding just what is necessary in my life. That's my new reality. God is in complete control.

I spoke at length with Dr. Bellamy when he made rounds Monday morning. I could sense a growing optimism building in him but I still had so far to go. There were many potential pitfalls staring me in the face; none bigger than a possible infection that would steal all the healing I had so far obtained. The fear being so great that I was placed on two intravenous antibiotics just to diminish the risk. He also spoke to me in detail regarding my injury technically known as a severely comminuted compound fracture-dislocation of the tibia and fibula (a.k.a trimalleolar fracture of the ankle). This in English means both lower leg bones had been crushed into pieces (12 for the fibula ... the lateral leg bone and 3 for the tibia the medial and larger leg bone). The tibia severely lacerated the medial side of my ankle (an 8 inch cut) with the bone protruding. My joint was completely disconnected and my foot lay beside my leg … but lest I forget, you already somehow knew this. He had pieced them together by and I quote "mushing" the three tibial pieces into a single unit and then securing them to the more proximal portion of bone by 3 screws aligned horizontally and each securing a fracture fragment to the tibia proper. He made a long vertical incision along the lateral aspect of my former ankle and by the aforementioned "mushing" technique squeezed those 12 pieces of distal fibula together and secured them to the more proximal fibula by 7 separate screws and a linear steel plate. One of these seven screws was 2-3 inches long and secured the fibula also to the tibia medially. Afterward it was a matter of copiously cleaning every piece of tissue and removing that which was too badly damaged to survive (which thankfully was amazingly few). There were tendons and ligaments to reconstruct. I was so grateful that he knew the ankle owner's manual and assembly diagram like the back of his "foot." When he had concluded his formal report to me he smiled and my spirit knew I was going to come out all right. He then recommended that I allow him to go back in and explore my joint surgically the following Wednesday night … if for no other reason than to wash it out thoroughly again to help prevent infection. But he wanted a glimpse at all that tissue which had been through so much trauma the day before … Would it live? If so, how much of it would survive? The dead and dying tissue would have to be debrided away. And likely there would be dead tissue. Finally, there was the issue of the posterior tibial tendon that had eluded him. He wanted one more crack at it, and why not? Without it, I would lose support on the bottom of my foot and also lose my arch. So I, too, was game.

God had supernaturally raised my spirits overnight and He had already begun a much deeper work in my soul that I was as yet unaware of. He had truly made me glad. Many people stopped by my room that day and over the next three. All somehow felt so sorry for me. But God wouldn't allow me to ever get down over this. It is truly inexplicable but I knew He was working. And I was beginning to not only just listen any longer but to actually begin to hear.

I felt palpably the prayers of the saints that ascended to the Heaven's throne on my behalf. Friends called, they prayed, they visited, they prayed, the sent flowers, they prayed, they sent cards, they prayed. I was finally on the receiving end after so many years on the giving side. It was literally a balm to my soul. And I kept growing more optimistic. God was somehow using this to break my pride and yet His Spirit sweetly encouraged me through those hours and He restored my soul and revived my heart in a way I've never before known. A major spiritual breakthrough was coming; I had begun to sense it. To yearn for it. To even begin to thirst for it. I was becoming fertile ground.

My employer, Capital Health Plan, was fabulous through it all, encouraging me to take as much time off as I needed. To not be in a hurry to come back. To not come back too soon like most doctors do. They were on my side all the way. What a beautiful place to work! They provided me with a wheelchair for home and crutches to use and secured the use of a scooter at work for as long as I may need it. I was again humbled to work for them. God is so good.

Janna remained at my side through it all speaking nothing but words of encouragement to me and joyfully helping me with all my bodily functions. She is such a godly woman and the finest friend a man could ever have. God was giving me a new appreciation for my lifetime partner … our relationship was being refreshed. This brokenness thing was spilling over into all parts of my life. It just kept getting better.

Alas, Wednesday night came and it was time for round two in the operating suite. God was still growing my optimism and I was becoming certain His healing for me would be complete with or even without my posterior tibial tendon. Three hours later I learned that indeed things looked extraordinarily well…almost better than one could reasonably expect. None of the tissue at risk was dead or dying. And that elusive tendon had been recaptured and then secured to it's missing piece. I would even get my arch back! God's work will be complete indeed.

Thursday was spent convincing my physical therapist that I was competent enough on crutches not to be a risk to undo all the healing that had occurred so far. And she wasn't necessarily easy to convince either. I spent an hour with her in the morning and about a half hour in the afternoon before she'd sign me off. Most people actually need two days of therapy. I just took the two a day approach harkening back to my football years. But I had to admit that I had no idea using one's arms as one's legs was as physically challenging as it actually is. Once I could safely navigate going up and downstairs there didn't seem to be any stopping me. And within a few hours I was finally released from the hospital.

The first stop was to pick up my prescriptions and then it was off to the home site. This time on Janna's terms. I could go by and look but I was not allowed to get out of the car. In my now growing humility I accepted this offer. How very uncharacteristic of me or at least my former self. She ran through the house looking for any major changes. The framers had not been back but the gas plumbers had. And the big cesspool lake that had stood beside our front porch had been drained and it was bricked ground to soffit. God had even been watching out on the home front for me. Spiritually I was soaring and I couldn't wait any longer to get home to my family.

That night brought sweet communion as a family with lots of love and sharing. But I could still sense the best was still yet to come. I was nearing my breakthrough but it had yet to become manifest. I also learned just how many things I would have to learn to do from scratch since I couldn't stand … especially this whole morning grooming thing. Showers were now out and I couldn't even begin to remember the last time I had taken a bath. There will be many of these between now and when I am no longer wearing a cast.

Saturday morning arrived and I could hardly wait for my quiet time. God would meet me this morning in a way I had never before known. I was broken in His presence for the first time in my life … reduced to tears of joy and overwhelming gratitude for the grace that flowed so freely through my life now. I was thankful for everything and poured out my soul begging God to renew everything in my life … my family, my relationship with each of my precious children, my relationship with Janna, to become the spiritual head she has so desperately wanted. I ached for our family to become spiritually unified where we were truly one for all and all for one. Where each child knew without question that inside the walls of our home that they were truly loved for just who they were and that our home would always be a sanctuary for them.

It was time to meet with each child one by one starting with Ashley. She already knew that her prayers had been answered and we wept and hugged together talking for nearly two hours. It was only then that she ever shared with any one that prayer she prayed that fateful Sunday morning a week before. All I could do was to hug and thank her repeatedly. It was all so very good!

Andrew and Ariel followed. Ariel is a lot like her big sister Ashley both of whom have been daddy's girls since toddlers. They already knew they were loved but they always like to hear it again. Andrew is the typical mess that 8 year old boys will be but he stirred my heart when he said "Daddy, you're my hero!" And then he would sign that to my permanent cast two days later.

Alli has taken a more wait and see attitude. She knows she's loved and I can see her resistance melting away day by day. She rarely rolls her eyes when we speak to her now and she seems to be coming around. She is enjoying all this new family time stuff I think, though she and Ashley have active lives away from the home as well. Alli, I think, is seeing the miracle of brokenness for the very first time. She knows this is not my nature and I am praying that what happened to me will become the desire of her heart for herself. She and Ashley are headed to the inner city of New Orleans at the end of the week for a week of ministry in a cross-cultural environment. I am praying God will open her spiritual eyes next week to a whole new dimension of life that she's never before known.

Janna, too, has been a little hesitant. Almost as if she's not wanting to get her hopes up too much. You see, she's been disappointed before. Over the last day or two, however, she too has come to believe that this time it is going to be different. This time it's a God-thing. Not something I am trying to do in the flesh. And I can see the joy building inside her. Her excitement level is growing. It, too, has been a good thing for her.

Church on Sunday morning was special. It was all I could do when our young student pastor Matt Schoolfield tried to convey to the crowd that Luke's whole message told through a series of historically verifiable "Bible stories" is that "Jesus is God!!! There is no other explanation." As he spoke those words, it was all I could do to refrain from crying out, "Well praise Him then people!!!" The spirit within me was finally tuned into the Holy Spirit's wavelength. Please no one ever touch that dial again!

After church one of the most godly and most broken men I have ever had the privilege of knowing, Tom Argersinger, came over to see me for the first time since "the accident" and he immediately sensed deep in his soul that God was doing something incredibly special in my life. He prayed for me for what must have been ten minutes with tears streaming out of both sets of our eyes and we agreed that this was truly a great thing! That God was in it, there was no question. And my mind then started to consider the possibilities of the lives that may be touched through my experience. Just why maybe you are holding this very story in your very hands right at this minute. Waves spreading across the pond from my point of brokenness. If lives can be changed from my experience, then it is surely worth what little pain I experienced for the greater good of advancing God's kingdom in the hearts of men. This is what life is all about really. And it is a great thing!

I was so eager to go back to see Dr. Bellamy at the Tallahassee Orthopedic Clinic on Monday afternoon that I could hardly contain myself. As the splint and bandages were removed I was able to see my physical wounds up close and personal for the first time. The wounds are long but they are beautiful. There is still no infection. My x-rays look excellent. My healing is ahead of schedule. God is restoring me physically to match my spiritual restoration. He is so very good to me!

I had to make one last trip to the home site yesterday afternoon for my psychological healing. To trudge up those stairs with my crutches, into that stifling heat and to see the site of my injury. The drywall still lays fallen where it landed. There is still some of my blood on that floor and on the adjacent sheetrock. But I can truly look at that place as the site of God's greatest miracle in my life and not as a source of post-traumatic stress disorder flashbacks. God has given me victory over fear and anxiety. He has drawn me into His bosom and is nurturing my soul. I long for my quiet times with Him each day. Before this they were mostly a daily chore that needed to be checked off and often went undone. I find myself spontaneously praising Him throughout the day and I pray more for others now than I have ever done before. Someone's name or face flashes into my mind and the next thing I know I'm praying for them almost reflexively. It's all good. It has all been so very good! So please don't grieve for my injury. I'm in the palm of His hand. And I've never felt better. The most amazing thing is that this can happen for you too and for everyone you know. It happens when the idea of brokenness stops being just a theological concept and becomes, instead, a state of spiritual being.

I believe a return to this truth -- the need for brokenness and humility -- is the starting place for experiencing the revival we that we so desperately need in our lives, our homes and our churches. This is not a new truth. As I see it, brokenness is a timeless principle that runs like a thread throughout all of God's Word. It is the only way you and I can draw near to a holy God. It is God's prescription for nearly every condition that ails human hearts and relationships. Loneliness, fear, sinful bondages, fragmented relationships, communication barriers, generation gaps, unresolved conflicts, guilt, shame, self-absorption, addictions, hypocrisy, and at times even shyness -- all these issues and more have at their very root, pride. But they can crumble through genuine brokenness and humility.

Do you need a fresh infusion of the grace of God in your life? Do you long to experience the abundant life, to live in the realm of the supernatural, and to enjoy the free flow of God's Spirit in your life? Do you want to be set free from those selfish, sinful patterns that plague your walk and poison your relationships? Do you want to find fullness of joy? Does your heart need to be revived? This whole vision is a challenge to embrace a radically new way of thinking and living, in which the way up is down, where death brings life and where brokenness is the pathway to wholeness.