If you've got dents, you’re not alone

Photo by Cristina Anne Costello on Unsplash

So I’m walking toward my car the other day. At least I think I am. 

The massive grocery store lot was filled with dozens, if not hundreds, of vehicles. 

Job number one: recall where I parked. 

I couldn’t initially, so I hit the panic button. You know, the one on the key Fob. After a few beeps and even more bewildered looks from shoppers loading their bags, I spotted it.

The blue exterior sparkled on this sun-splashed afternoon. Funny, but the same midday brightness also has a way of exposing the spot you missed while washing your car. Saw that, too.

Then I noticed something else: a scratch on the left rear bumper.

“What the heck?” I muttered.

As I drew closer, something else caught my eye: a small dent near the scratch.

Then I remembered something my dad taught me years ago: “Never park next to a beat-up car. They don’t care about how they open their doors or what they might hit.”

To my left, there was a 1994 Honda Accord held together by a clothes hanger, Silly Putty and Scotch tape. On my right … hmm, I’m not sure what that thing was. But it wasn’t pretty.

“I should have listened to Dad.”

On the drive home, I had a revelation: Hang around long enough, put yourself out there enough, and you’re going to get dinged. 

You know what I mean.

Fired.

Dumped.

Betrayed.

Ripped off.

Gossiped about.

We’re more like golf balls than we think. Yes, golf balls.

Did you know those little dents on a golf ball were invented by accident? In the early 1900s, as the sport began to grow, golfers discovered that a ball with cuts and scratches would soar farther and straighter than a new, smooth ball. Not long after, a savvy entrepreneur secured a patent and began to manufacture golf balls with tiny dents in them. 

Today, the average golf ball has more than 300. If you’ve been around more than a couple of decades, you probably do, too.

At first, they’re awful. They’re painful. They’re soul-crushing.

But the longer we travel on this journey, we realize these dents have a purpose. They continue to shape us into the person God has created us to be. They allow us to help others experiencing the same dents we have. They do a bang-up job of replacing our pride with empathy and humility.

So, like the golf ball, maybe we’re designed to have dents. Maybe our wounds are designed to morph into wisdom. Maybe our misery is designed to become our ministry.

A few days ago I had the privilege of hearing from three people who experienced deep grief after losing loved ones. With humility and grace, they shared how God continues to bless them. How the church, their family and friends continue to extend support. How a text or a call or a note at just the right moment can deliver a smile or a special memory.

We’ll never know the daily struggles some of us are facing. But we do know we’re never alone.

We have a Savior who has experienced everything we do — betrayal, extreme temptation, the deaths of those he loved, excruciating pain. 

He understands. He comforts. He heals. He makes new.

I’m reminded of this extraordinary thought from Maya Angelou: “We delight in the beauty of the butterfly, but rarely admit the changes it has gone through to achieve that beauty.”

Some of the most beautiful spirits I know have risen out of unthinkable circumstances.

It may sound trite, but those dents we display are simply par for the course on this broken planet. Yet what we do with our dents goes a long way toward staying centered on the fairway or getting stuck in the rough.

Just had another thought:  You know what else golf balls do? 

If one falls on a hard surface, it will bounce back up higher than you can imagine.

I’m grateful we’re designed that way, too.

(Tim Kolodziej is the author of this piece and founder of EnspireU.com. When he’s not behind a laptop, he can be found inside a gym helping young athletes create their own unique future — one rep at a time. Click here to connect with him by email.)