Thine Alone

How a car crash, a conversation with my son, and the gospel reshaped everything.

When most people think of loss, they think of defeat, of something taken that cannot be restored. And in this world, that often feels true. But for those who walk with Christ, loss is not always what it seems. In fact, sometimes loss is the very thing that prepares us to receive the greatest gain of all: the clarity to see that Jesus is our portion, our strength, and our future.

I know this not only because Scripture says so, but because I have lived it.

Years ago, I was a business owner. I co-ran a welding company that I helped build from the ground up. It was physical, demanding work—but I loved it. I had employees who counted on me, a dream that was growing, and the satisfaction of knowing I was building something with my own hands. But in a moment, everything changed.

After having lunch with my wife at home celebrating the fact that we had finally started making a profit again after all the losses associated with the COVID shutdowns, on my way back to my shop, a woman ran a red light. She shouldn’t have been driving at all—she had a suspended license and no insurance. I was hit hard.  So hard that the fire department had to cut me out of the car.  My life would never be the same.

The injuries I sustained wrecked my back and knees. Physical labor became impossible. The business I’d poured myself into collapsed. I went from provider to patient, from building to surviving. Eventually, I had to file for bankruptcy. The financial and emotional toll was enormous.

There were days I wept in private, wondering if I’d been forgotten. I had moments of deep sorrow and anger. I asked God why He had let this happen?  What had I done wrong?  I had poured myself into this life.  Into my business.  Isn’t a man supposed to provide for his family?  But in those moments, I was also reminded of something Jesus said to Martha in Luke 10:41-42:

“Martha, Martha, you are worried and troubled about many things. But one thing is needed, and Mary has chosen that good part, which will not be taken away from her.”

I was not “providing for my family”, how do I provide what is not mine?  The “one thing needful” is not wealth, nor comfort, nor even health. It is Jesus. And in the painful stripping away of all I thought made me strong, He reminded me that He is my strength.

In fact, one of the clearest moments of that reminder came through an unexpected conversation with my son. We were talking about the changes in our lives and the weight we both carried. Out of nowhere, he said, “Dad, maybe all this happened so you’d be home when I needed you most.” It stopped me in my tracks. That simple sentence spoke volumes. In that moment, it was as if the Lord used his voice to break through the noise of my disappointment and remind me that I am still here because He is not done with me. That this story—however painful—has purpose. Not just for me, but for the people my life will touch, especially my son. It was a holy interruption that helped shift my view from despair to discipleship, from brokenness to belonging.

2 Corinthians 4:16-17 reminds us:

“Therefore we do not lose heart. Even though our outward man is perishing, yet the inward man is being renewed day by day. For our light affliction, which is but for a moment, is working for us a far more exceeding and eternal weight of glory.”

What a powerful truth. My affliction has been anything but light some days. The pain in my back is real. The inability to do what I once could do is frustrating. But even through all that, I have not been overcome. I am still here, not because God forgot about me, but because He has a purpose for me. It’s not what I thought it was, but He is still working.

Philippians 1:6 gives me hope:

“Being confident of this very thing, that He who has begun a good work in you will complete it until the day of Jesus Christ.”

Even now, as I walk through the aftermath of that crash—living with disability, recovering from bankruptcy, navigating pain and uncertainty—I know that I am not walking alone. Jesus walks with me. He is the One who catches every tear, who knows every anxious thought, and who holds every tomorrow.  The crashing sounds I heard at that intersection are nothing in comparison to the crashing sounds of the hammers that beat the nails into His flesh as He was nailed to the cross to pay the debt I continue to incur.  He knows pain.  He knows sorrow. 

Sometimes, the things we lose make room for the only thing we truly need.

Jesus is not just the healer of broken bones—He is the healer of broken dreams, broken hearts, and broken identities. And the more I lean into Him, the more I see that what I thought was loss has actually become gain.

Romans 8:28 assures me:

“And we know that all things work together for good to those who love God, to those who are the called according to His purpose.”

If you’re reading this and walking through a season of loss, let me encourage you: loss is not the end. It may be the beginning of God redirecting you toward what truly matters. Toward the One who matters most.

Let your heart rest in Jesus. Let the losses fall into His hands. Let Him show you that He is enough—not just in theory, but in your lived reality.

Because He is. Always.

Take a moment to pray:

Lord Jesus, I feel the weight of what I’ve lost—but I trust that You’re using it for good. Help me to see Your hand at work, even in the brokenness. Remind me that I’m not forgotten and that You are enough for every moment of my life. Lead me closer to You, the One thing needful. In Your name, Amen.