I had a total knee replacement a couple of weeks ago.  It was not a surprise.  I had a meniscus repair three years ago, and they told me then I was just buying time.  A wise friend told me when I stopped doing things I enjoyed doing because my knee hurt, it was time to have the knee replaced.  The surgeon did a great job, the physical therapists have been great, and my recovery seems to be going well. 

In the meantime, I have turned into a knee evangelist.  I mean, I am talking a lot about my knee.  In my limited getting out, I am walking with a cane, mostly in fear that one of my physical therapists will see me without it and rain down curses upon me.  When you walk with a cane, everyone feels free to comment.  I’ve gotten everything from “Did your wife kick you?” (to which I wanted to respond, “No, did yours?”), to “Are you in terrible pain?” (If I am not screaming, the pain is tolerable). 

One man stopped me and asked where I put the oil in for my new knee.  I told him it was factory sealed.  A woman looked at my leg and then proceeded to tell me how terrible her second cousin’s wife’s surgery went when she had her knee replaced.  Why is it people want to tell you stories about other people’s surgery? 

A couple of people have bent down to look at my scar.  I wanted to tell them to open wide so I could look at their teeth.  I have new empathy for pregnant women who suddenly find their swollen abdomen community property.   

One encounter, however, stands out.  We were out to eat ( a cherished escape from the house) and were leaving our table.  An older lady stopped me and asked if I had a knee replacement.  Sensing she was genuinely curious, I told her yes.  She then told me her doctor wanted her to have both knees replaced, but she was scared.  Without me prompting her, she told me she was scared of the pain of the surgery, scared of the pain of physical therapy, and scared she would be worse off than before.  She shared she had just about decided to live with the pain of what she had rather than risk the pain of knee replacement. 

It surprises people that, by nature, I am an introvert.  This time, however, the words poured out of me to this stranger.  I told her I was completely out during the surgery and that the worst part was getting the spinal block.  “Oh,” she said, “You are just a big baby.  I had those when my children were born, and they were nothing.”  I replied, “Well, it was something for me!” 

I told her about my post-operative pain and how it was controlled; how the pain from physical therapy was not overwhelming at all; how the worst part was sleeping at night because I woke up so often from moving in the bed.  She said, “You didn’t get up very much with your babies, did you?”  I looked a little sheepish and admitted my wife did most of the getting up. 

I told her about looking forward to getting on the floor again with my grandson, walking with my wife, and being able to work outside without wearing out.  I could see the dreamy look in her eyes when I told her about all I wanted to do as my new knee was integrated into my body. 

As I talked, I felt like I was delivering a sermon for knees: “Come and be restored so your knee can bend!”  As our conversation drew to a close, she said, “You know, after talking to you, I believe I am going to have a talk with my doctor about this surgery.”  I wished her well and made my way out to the car. 

I thought about our brief encounter.  This woman was controlled by her fears.  She was holding onto her old pain, afraid something new would be worse.  She needed to hear the story of someone who had been through what she had been through, came out the other side and was finding life better.  She needed a knee evangelist. 

I wonder how many people let their fear keep them from coming to Jesus.  Do they hold onto their pain, their addiction, because they cannot fathom what a new life with Jesus would be like?  Do they need someone who has been through it to share his or her story, that the change is worth it? 

Ezekiel spoke for the Lord and said this: “I will give you a new heart and put a new spirit within you; I will remove your heart of stone and give you a heart of flesh...”  Everyone you see needs a heart replacement.  Your story might give them the courage to ask God to make the great exchange.  If telling a story about a knee replacement can give a stranger courage, imagine telling the story of how Jesus changed your life could give someone the courage to let Jesus change their life.