Back in the Saddle Again

I’ve been wrestling lately with a thorn in the flesh.

Do you recognize that phrase from the passage in 2 Corinthians 12: 7-10 where the apostle Paul talks about suffering from a thorn in the flesh issued to him by Satan to make him miserable and styme his work for the Lord? We don’t know if Paul’s thorn was physical, or emotional or what; some scholars speculate that it might’ve been a specific EGR (Extra Grace Required) person who drove him bonkers (I reckon we all have one of those!). I’ve heard others theorize that it could have been migraines, eye trouble, or epilepsy. All guesses. We’ll never know for sure.

But whatever it was, Paul didn’t like it, didn’t want it, and prayed three times for God to take it away. But He said no. The thorn stays. Buck up, Buckaroo.

Most of us don’t like this passage much because it’s shocking to us that we can’t just ask God to kindly remove something irritating in our lives that’s messin’ with us and He doesn’t nod and hop to it. Even when we rationally and reasonably explain that it’s impeding our work in His name. No dice. Or that our lives would sure be easier if He’d just snap His fingers and whisk away the annoying obstacle. Nuh-uh. Or that maybe since we dedicated our life to Him, it’s the least He could do to help us out here, right? Nope.

My thorn started with my knee replacement in February. I naively thought I’d be spending nearly every waking hour of my recovery period sitting at my computer desk working on my new devotional. I scheduled the surgery intentionally at that time so I’d have weeks and weeks when I couldn’t do anything else, to work against my publisher’s summer deadline. I had it all worked out – the timing should have been perfect.

Except it wasn’t. Because I didn’t anticipate my thorn in the flesh: hypersensitivity on my backside from waist to ankle. I couldn’t sit. Not even for five minutes at a time. My physical therapist thought the unexplained throbbing and intense bruising on the back of my thigh and calf had to do with the tourniquet stopping my blood flow just above my knee for three hours during the surgery. “That’s too bad. Sometimes it happens,” she said. My surgeon simply muttered, “Hmmm. Sometimes it happens,” when I asked him why I couldn’t tolerate the least bit of pressure. So I gather that no one really knows why I had to eat standing up for six weeks with a new prosthetic knee, or loiter in the corner of waiting rooms instead of sit like a normal person, or leave my half-written devo to walk laps around the house every few minutes while I completely lost my train of thought.

Like Paul, I prayed three (more like thirty-three) times for Papa God to PLEASE come to His senses and take this nastiness away so I could finish the book that HE told me to write. He said no. The thorn stays. Buck up, Buttercup.

So I quit grousing (well, maybe not altogether; I find complaining therapeutic), and learned to laugh at my ridiculously slow new writing process that involves preaching out loud to my dog as I trek around the house and neighborhood so I won’t forget any ideas. And when I conspicuously had to stand at the table in restaurants while everyone else was seated. And the time we had company over for dinner and when I stood up half-way through the meal, they stood too, and grabbed their jackets, thinking I was hinting that they should leave now.

But lest you think I’m whining (I am), at around the 6-week mark post-op, I’m now able to sit 15 minutes at a time. Yay!!! I’m back in the saddle again! I will never take my derriere and thunder thighs for granted again. And I’m ever so pleased to echo Paul’s conclusion regarding his thorn in the flesh:

And He has said to me, “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is perfected in weakness.” Most gladly, therefore, I will rather boast about my weaknesses, that the power of Christ may dwell in me. Therefore, I am well content with weaknesses, with insults, with distresses, with persecutions, with difficulties, for Christ’s sake; for when I am weak, then I am strong. (2 Corinthians 12: 9-10),

So how about you, dearest BFF (Blessed Friend Forever)? What’s been your experience with a thorn in the flesh? We’d love to hear your comments below.