Pain in the Neck, Thorn in the Side

To keep me from becoming conceited because of these surpassingly great revelations, there was given me a thorn in my flesh, a messenger of Satan, to torment me. Three times I pleaded with the Lord to take it away from me. But he said to me, "My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness." Therefore I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ's power may rest on me. That is why, for Christ's sake, I delight in weaknesses, in insults, in hardships, in persecutions, in difficulties. For when I am weak, then I am strong. (2 Corinthians 12:7-10)

I am writing this sentence under extreme pain. Something went haywire in my neck last night and I can barely move my head without a searing pain that brings tears to my eyes. It hurts. Bad. It’s the type of pain that prevents sleep (I’m writing this at 5:17 a.m.). I can’t yawn, cough, laugh or sneeze. It feels like a knife is stuck in my neck. Even if I hold my head still, my shoulders ache and my neck throbs. If this is a part of getting “old,” sign me up for the AARP.

All this pain makes me think of Paul’s words to the Corinthians about a “thorn in the flesh.” The Greek suggests a “painful stake.” It’s definitely a physical thing straight from the pits of Hell. Some scholars believe Paul suffered from a disease (maybe malaria) that flared up on occasion. It may have impacted his eyes. In Galatians 6:11, Paul reveals he writes with “large letters” as evidence of his own handwriting. Whatever the cause, it was torture to endure. Paul begged God to heal him. He says “three times” but that’s probably understatement. In the end, Paul realizes his pain is God’s gain. The only thing he needs is Grace. In weakness, through Christ, Paul has superhero strength.

I wonder if it was painful for Paul to pen his “delight” and to take joy in his “weaknesses, insults, hardships, persecutions and difficulties.” Sure it’s heavenly to say, but hell to live. He didn’t ask for this thorn and certainly desired it to pass. I’d cut off my left arm for this wretched, aching neck of mine to go away. But that would only create a new pain. The secret to life isn’t to live pain-less but rather to be patient with God’s process. Pain keeps us awake to reality. Pain is raw and right now. Pain is sometimes the gift we need to grow.

We have some friends whose son is dealing with inoperable brain cancer. They lost a daughter to SIDS as well. I can’t imagine their pain. Where is God? Why has He put them through such Hell? I know they’d die to give their son a full life on this earth. I know they (and many other believers) have begged God for a healing miracle that hasn’t yet materialized. It doesn’t make any sense. Pain never makes sense.

As I write these words, I am also tired of the torture. My life has been blessed, but truthfully its far from where I felt I’d be at 45 years of age. My life is probably more than half over and everything I worked for seems gone (in my eyes). I lost my job six months ago and haven’t found a new one. I don’t know how I’ll pay the bills. I’m either over-qualified, mis-qualified or non-qualified for positions that inspire me or pay what I really need to survive. I miss teaching and ministry and being “somebody.” I often feel lost and lonely, abandoned and attacked. I hear what some people think of me and cringe. I fear rejection as much as I want to exact revenge. Some days I long for death to visit me early so I might escape the prison that seems my lot. Sometimes I wonder if anybody even reads what I bleed onto the page. The past five years, in particular, have been full of drama, disappointment, discouragement, debt and death. It’s never been more raw or real. I’ve discovered who’s really a friend. Rich Mullins had a line in his song “Elijah” that said: “There's people been friendly, but they'd never be your friends. Sometimes this has bent me to the ground.”

I don’t write those words for sympathy, but for strength. What I hold dear (job, prestige, power, money, my own desires and agendas) are only band-aids for my pain. They are masks I wear to feel good. Even if I have no one to walk this journey with me (and I have many friends), I’ll still walk. The pain may be excruciating and exhausting. I’ll still walk. The path may be hard and uphill. I’ll still walk. The people who believe in me may be few. I’ll still walk. The disappointments may drown out the delights. I’ll still walk.

I had hoped that sitting upright might ease the pain in my neck, but I was wrong. It hurts even more right now. Nevertheless I’ll still type one more word. I’ll still write one more sentence. I’ll still bleed my soul whether anyone reads this blog or not. For it’s not about me. It’s never been about me. The first step to getting over pain is to get over your self. Pride is the original sin and increased pain is the punishment. Thorns are good things. They remind us that we’re human.

And strong beyond all imagination.

NOTABLE QUOTABLES ON PAIN:

But pain insists upon being attended to. God whispers to us in our pleasures, speaks in our conscience, but shouts in our pains: it is His megaphone to rouse a deaf world. (C.S. Lewis)

If you suffer, thank God! -- it is a sure sign that you are alive. (Elbert Hubbard)

We all know people who have been made much meaner and more irritable and more intolerable to live with by suffering: it is not right to say that all suffering perfects. It only perfects one type of person ...... the one who accepts the call of God in Christ Jesus. (Oswald Chambers)

The world is full of suffering, it is also full of overcoming it. (Helen Keller)

Father, I truly delight in trouble and trial, pain and problems. I don’t take joy in how they make me feel but rather how they are making me a better man. Father, help me to forgive those who neither understand my pain nor are willing to walk with me through it. Grant me Grace in my weakness, Hope in my healing and Life in my darkness. If it be your will, heal me of this wretched wound. If not, then give me the patience, persistence and power to keep walking. Amen.