My Crutch

For years I tried to uphold myself. Arrogantly, by my own strength I labored to keep myself upright. Boastfully seeing myself as the ultimate strength, the ultimate authority deciding right from wrong and truth from falsehood. The day came when my knees began to hurt, my back ached, my arms burned due to the terrible weight of the world. I trembled beneath it. It threatened to crush me, to suffocate the life out of me.

The world upon my back fiercely screeched, and yelled it’s rage at me, “Stress! Doubt! Sin! Worry! Damnation! Addiction! Depression! Hate! It’s all your fault you wretched man!!!” That terrible burden upon me forced me to be convicted of my foolish pride. I was made to realize my disability. I needed help and support, I needed a crutch.

I tried crutch after crutch. One made of green wood, it yielded under me and bent under stress. One made of hollow metal, which folded and collapsed. One which was an illusion a mental placebo, which disappeared from under me. I tried crutch after crutch and the weight increased. The world upon me threatened to crush my very soul.

But wait, what’s this? A simple crutch, obviously much used, for it’s beaten and scarred, it doesn’t look very strong. How can I trust a simple, humble crutch? Yet, there is a glow about it. My aches and pains increase, I can’t help but eyeing that crutch. There is something appealing about it. How could I ever trust such a crutch, and yet again it seems to be calling out to me, knocking itself gently against the floor, but it seems to be too far for me to reach, for with this burden on me I can no longer move. However, with every knock on the floor it seems to be getting closer to me until with my last ounce of strength I decide to reach for it.



I touch it and it touches me. I tightly grasp it and it grasps me even tighter. This simple crutch was unlike any other, with it under me I was slowly able to stand up. First straightening my knees, then my back, I could let my arms hang comfortably by my sides and finally I held my head up high.

This battered crutch, nothing special to look at, yet it’s made out of an incorruptible material that will never entropy, never fold, bend, or break no matter what the weight placed upon it. This little crutch was tailor made for my disability, as if it had been molded for me and my every need.

Eventually after being weary for so long and having found my life so burdensome, this crutch refreshed me and by it’s own strength it allowed me to take the world off my back and place it on this humble crutch which supported the weight easily. It told me that it had always been there in the corner calling to me ever so gently, watching me being crushed and wanting to help.

I’m free now to roam my world. I share my story with people and let them know that there is a crutch that can help them as well. Some hear me gladly and call upon the crutch. Some don’t believe that such a crutch exists. Some say, “Maybe someday, I’m still so strong that I can hold the world on my back.” I tell them that when the day comes when the weight of the world is crushing them, they should not be ashamed to ask for help. I visit the crutch every day, that saving crutch with the world upon it. I give thanks to it and praise it.

I still suffer some discomfort from all the years that I arrogantly relied on my own strength to hold the world on my back, yet the crutch promised me that the day would come when it would sprout like a mighty tree, that it’s branches would grow up right through the world and that if I held on to it, it would keep growing and would take me with it right up into heaven.