Being Broken

Physically, we get sick.  It's a fact of life.  Because we are all mortal, we are all subjected to becoming sick.  Even so, our souls are subjected to spiritual diseases.  It may not be exactly the same, but really think about it.  The prophets have said that there are latter-day ills that can dim the spirit and dull our senses.  In many ways, that could be considered the definition of being physically sick: our bodies become weak and our senses dull.  The prophets have referred to drugs, pornography, and many other harmful substances and practices as a "vile disease".  With that in regard, could quite possibly the smaller violations of the law also be a type of disease?  Many suffer from foul or "accidental" language.  Could something as simple as bad language be a type of spiritual disease, if not a "gateway disease"?

Spiritually speaking, is being "diseased" being broken?

I am a young athlete and have enjoyed the blessings of my high school track team for the last few years.  It has been a great time to learn and grow.  To become better required me to face myself and learn to use strength of which only God knew I had within me.  I was on my way.  In fact, I began to become very skilled at sprinting.  I began to stun and amaze everyone with the speed and miraculous ability I could summon.  I know that this strength was within me because I am a son of the eternal God whose strength and ability are limitless.  I know that this strength was within me cause I was given such a blessing of my Father.  I was blessed to the extent that I was qualifying for state, and I would be able to actually compete.  However, before the state meet my Junior year, I competed at Region.  The day and events have been run through my mind many times on countless occasions.  In the 100 meter dash, about the 70 meter mark, I tore my hamstring.  I limped to the finish line and fell to the grass to the inside of the track.  Tears streamed my face.  The pain alone was enough to make me cry.  Once my coach got to me and discovered the severity of the injury, I was declared unable to run. "No, coach! Don't take me out! I know I can do it!"  Looking back, I will admit, I was delirious from the emotional agony I was suffering.  The long hours and hoops I had to jump through to get to where I had been had now been made worthless.  Now that it's my senior year, I cannot do it.  I am on the team, and I am able to sprint, but not to the capacity of which I was once able.  The searing pain only returns during competition and I fear I may soon tear it once again if I push too hard.  I know I have the ability to run faster, I know I have more within me, but I am not able to give it my all. In many instances, many times since my accident, I have found myself alone weeping to myself.  "I am broken," I have lamented.

Recently, however, I have received new hope and faith.  This experience has taught me much about life and the mercies of our Lord.  Things may not have turned out as I planned, but maybe that's a blessing in itself. I have received hope not only that I may be physically healed, but that my unseen wounds may be healed also.  This faith and hope I received because of a story President Boyd K. Packer shared long ago:

For a number of years I found relaxation in carving and painting songbirds, at times spending a full year on a single carving. That suggests how much time I had now and again. Once I had a newly finished carving on the back seat of a car driven by Elder A. Theodore Tuttle. He hit the brakes suddenly and the carving was thrown to the floor and damaged.

Elder Tuttle felt terrible, supposing he had ruined a year’s work. When I waved aside his apologies, he said, “You sure don’t seem to be upset about it.” To reassure him, I said “Don’t worry, I made it; I can fix it.” Actually it had been broken and fixed many times while I was working on it.

Later Brother Tuttle likened that experience to lives, broken or badly damaged, supposedly ruined with no hope of repair, not knowing that there is a Maker, a Creator, who can fix any of his creations no matter how hopelessly broken they seem to be.