My Thorn Named Fear

"though if I should wish to boast, I would not be a fool, for I would be speaking the truth; but I refrain from it, so that no one may think more of me than he sees in me or hears from me. So to keep me from becoming conceited because of the surpassing greatness of the revelations, a thorn was given me in the flesh, a messenger of Satan to harass me, to keep me from becoming conceited.  Three times I pleaded with the Lord about this, that it should leave 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 of my weaknesses, so that the power of Christ may rest upon me.  For the sake of Christ, then, I am content with weaknesses, insults, hardships, persecutions, and calamities. For when I am weak, then I am strong."

 - 2 Corinthians 12:6-10

(a poem I wrote about my thorn)

Dear Thorn 

I hate you; I love you

Like a cancer that brings salvation

I try to pluck you out 

But I can't find you

Everywhere; nowhere 

When I look ahead 

You afflict me from behind 

I turn quickly toward the pain 

Wanting to face you

But it's another face I see

The very God I'm begging 

to remove you is standing there 

He allows you 

Permits you 

Uses you 

The very God I'm begging 

to remove you

Wore you 

Knows you

Knew you

Was pierced by you so why are you piercing me?

Can I pray for removal 

AND get to know you, thorn? 

Can it be both ways?

You draw me to Him, what more could I want? 

WHAT MORE COULD I WANT? 

Peace apart from you, thorn,

That's what

You remind me with every beat of my aching heart 

As each beat rushes blood to the spot you've pierced 

That you're still there 

Instant, consistent pain 

Pulsing your presence

Thorn, you remind me of Him

Remind me to look to Him 

Even as I'm begging for relief

You turn me to face Him

Dear Thorn 

I hate you; I love you

My favorite image of God is as a Gardener. 

The garden-the church

The seeds-the people

The Good Gardener shoveling dirt and creating soil and carefully planting vulnerable seeds. Covering them. Piercing the very land He's creating and cultivating. Using the dead, decomposing things to turn dirt into soil. 

Bad into good. 

Death into life. 

Weeding. Wiping sweat from his brow as dirt smudges across His forehead. He looks on his land and whispers, "it is good" while we (the land) scream out in agony, "BUT IT HURTS."  

It is good; but it hurts. 

The Good Gardener walks away for a long time (which is silence to the land) while the sun and rain and seeds do their work. The rain overwhelms, the lightening terrifies, the wind brings fear, the sun is too hot...over and over and over and over. Silence from The Good Gardener while His garden grows in pain. 

WHERE ARE YOU, GARDENER? 

*silence*

After a time, the roots slowly start to emerge from the seed and the seed finally thinks I CAN'T TAKE THIS ANYMORE! I'M GOING TO EXPLODE. And it does. 

The only direction the seed can go to escape the pain is up. The only option the seed has is to grow; to burst through the soil, to dig its way out as its outer shell rips apart, to fight through the pain to get to the sun. The Son. The pain had a purpose and its purpose was to force growth. 

All that to say...a thorn is good imagery for me. I bet the root of all our thorns is pride. My thorn is fear. Not any diagnosis, not lack of money, not a hard marriage, not the future, but the fear of them. A mixture of fear and of a longing for future comfort. 

What I DO know is that our Good Gardener is not only compassionate, he IS compassion. The very spirit of God is referred to as the comforter. So that's what I know. Which tells me he doesn't sit above us shooting lightening bolts of lessons at our lives while he laughs at our ignorance and pain; But He walks beside us holding us steady in the midst of the lessons. Maybe the thorns are just the lessons from the problems we create. The problems we let fester and grow. 

I find myself wanting to unlock the key to removing the thorn. To not needing it to point me to Him. But I don't think that's the point. A phrase I can't get away from is "even in the midst"

even joy

even hope

even contentment 

even happiness 

in the midst of fear and pain

That's ultimate freedom. Where the enemy can't touch you. Where you and the thorn mutually exist in peace. Where you realize that the thorn is not punishment but a means to an end and that end is growth that keeps us running back to our Good Gardener. 

So here I am. A daughter with a thorn. He wore a crown of them, so He gets it. We CAN be thankful for our thorns. God uses something painful to protect, guide and cultivate us.

I'll end with the quote I go back to again and again.

"When you feel like you can't take it anymore, look to Jesus and take it a little more."

John Piper