It really fascinates me.  For whatever reason, in the past fifteen years, I have endured multiple fractures.  Two fingers, an elbow, a knee, an ankle, and most recently, a wrist. No, I am not morbidly interested in breaking bones.  But the incredible fact, the amazing thing is –  that the bones don’t remain broken – they knit themselves together and become strong again.

Inquiring minds want to know why…what was the cause of all of these fractures?  In most cases, the answer is, it was something that went wrong.  I was thrown off-balance.  I relied on my eyes to judge the correct distance before I took a step, and they miscalculated.  A moment of weakness, as they say, and I tumble.  Resulting in a serious fracture and months pain and rehabilitation.

The psalmist makes room for these moments of miscalculation.  It is a strong possibility, he writes, that his heart and his flesh – many times – may fail. Crack. Break.

My flesh and my heart may fail,
But God is the strength of my heart and my portion forever.  Psalm 73:26 NASB

How long did you have to live to discover that you – we – all of us – are not bionic, but vulnerable.  A child may not put two and two together after his first fall off a bicycle, but it’s not something he will outgrow when he gets older.  He will probably fall again, many times, bump into things.  As wisdom catches up to him, he will realize that he is weak, vulnerable to viruses, germs, the wrong combination of foods, the amount of sunshine he gets every day,

I clearly remember my earliest days living in New York City.  A city of thousands – millions, actually.  It seemed that the streets were filled with thousands.  Jammed sidewalks, people scurrying in all directions.

In the midst of these crowds, I would see a person tap, tap, tapping with a cane. Evidently to avoid running into someone or a stray lamppost or car, the cane became that person’s eyes.  His flesh had ‘failed’ – he had no eyesight.

Isn’t that our story so often?

And what about our heart?  Although less detectable than our flesh, our inner being is beset with weakness, as well, and subject to failure. The godly character we thought we had – the strength we relied on – the talent that was our key to making our dreams come to pass – or the person we depended on – crumbles in a moment of weakness, inattention, or lapse, and we are left with a fracture in our spirit.

How it happens is incidental.  Like our flesh, our soul has an inner vulnerability that is always there, well-hidden before a fall. It could be a betrayal. Divorce. Broken relationship. Job loss. Victimization of a family member.  Cancer.  An empty nest.  Old age, even.  The imperfections that we carried around and somehow managed to compensate for are finally taxed to their strength, and they fail.

Into this brokenness, the psalmist sees clearly.  There is a surgeon, a remedy, for both the flesh –  and the heart.  In the midst of the pain of a fracture – physical, emotional, or spiritual – God is there.  Christ, His son, identifies with our weakness.  Has taken it upon Himself. The months of pain and rehabilitation?  Necessary for healing,  necessary for the strength of God to come through.  Who can understand this?  But here stands One ready to be strong where we are weak, ready to be the strength of our hearts.

Whom have I in heaven but You? And besides You, I desire nothing on earth.

My flesh and my heart may fail, but God is the strength of my heart and my portion forever.  Psalm 73:25,26 (NASB)