Pain

 September 15, 2020

I can barely type tonight. The entire day was spent cutting and splitting firewood from the cherry tree we had taken down a couple weeks ago. I’ve had trouble with my hands for some time now; a sharp pain that shoots from my thumbs to my wrists when I touch my thumb to little finger, or turn a doorknob. A day holding a chainsaw and maneuvering chunks of wood to the splitter took a bit of a toll.

I’m not complaining. Actually, I’m quite grateful for the pain. It’s manageable, and tells me when it’s time to quit. It’s not the inescapable pain of cancer or torture; that pain that never ends. To be unable to feel pain would be a terrible thing. Hanson’s disease attacks the nerves, making them unable to send pain messages to the brain. The traditional name for it is leprosy; people used to believe that it rotted the tissue, causing digits to fall off and sores to develop all over the body. In reality, those so afflicted are unable to tell if something they are holding is hot; they cannot tell if they have cut themselves other than by seeing it. The inability to feel pain is a curse. So I type...just a little. I’ll rest tonight and be back at it tomorrow. And when it hurts, I’ll thank God for pain. It’s his way of telling me enough is enough.

It’s the same with spiritual and emotional pain. We think we are doing children a favor by shielding them from the painful consequences of bad choices, but not facing consequences breeds a young adult with no ability to connect action with result. Any parent wants to spare their child unnecessary pain; Linda and I often softened the blow when our kids were growing up, but we didn’t eliminate the consequences of youthful foolishness. Some lessons can only be learned through pain. God uses it to bring us to our senses when we’ve lost our way. If he always spared us from the consequences of our sins, we would never repent and find grace. So I am thankful for the pain in my hands, and for the pain I’ve felt in my heart. It has often prompted corrective action that kept me from a worse fate.