The Gift of Pain
Linda Barrick
My husband, Andy, has a history of prostate cancer in his family, but he hadn’t had a checkup in years. He insisted he was feeling pretty good, so it was a miracle that I convinced him to go to the doctor to have blood work. When the results came back, we were shocked to find out that he had prostate cancer and needed immediate treatment. We almost caught it too late because Andy didn’t have any pain. If we’d waited a month or two longer, the cancer could have breached the prostate and spread throughout his body.
I’m typing this through tears because I’m so thankful for God’s grace and mercy. I wish Andy had had some pain so that we could have discovered the cancer sooner. Pain tells us there’s a problem. It’s God’s way of letting us know that something is wrong and it’s time to take action. It’s a warning sign to protect us from greater danger. A signal that it’s time to do some deeper investigation. Unfortunately, we can be tempted to think of pain as a punishment or a curse.
After all, God promises no more pain or tears in heaven, so it would be easy to conclude that pain is bad. But what if we thought of pain as a gift? God knit the experience of pain into the fabric of human- to give us warning signals, to keep us running back to Him, and to get us to admit that we need help. (That’s why we won’t need it any longer in heaven!) Pain leads us back to God’s protective boundaries. Psalm 119:71 says it this way: “It was good for me to be afflicted so thatI might learn your decrees.” Nothing gets our attention quite like pain.
If you’ve ever gone to the doctor because you’ve been in pain, you know that the first step in any healing process is identifying what hurts and why. If we’re to be healed, we have to get to the root of what’s wrong. In essence, pain is the beginning of healing. Healing may not mean the pain goes away entirely. It may mean that it grows into a purpose. Either way, pain is a gift. It’s meant to keep us from further harm. The problem is that we get so focused on pain as “a pain,” we fail to see how it can actually help us.
I live with chronic pain. Maybe you do too. Each morning when I wake up and feel the nerve pain in my left hand and foot, I’m very aware of how much I need Jesus to get through the day. The truth is that the more pain I have, the more I talk to Jesus. Many days I pray, “Lord Jesus, please come to my rescue. Fill me with Your strength and courage today.”
Pain is also what leads us to seek healing.
Your pain matters. It matters to God, and it matters to me.
Yet we can be tempted to manage our pain by minimizing it. We convince ourselves, I can handle it. I’m fine. It will go away eventually. If you were the oldest sibling in your family and one of your parents died, you might have had to bury your pain to hold the family together. If your husband’s porn addiction or affair is crushing your heart, you might minimize your pain by reason- ing that many marriages face the same challenges. Or you might minimize the loss of a father because your single mom did a great job raising you. But when you minimize your pain, you actually give it more power.
Ignoring pain is not strength. It leads to greater injury. Though our bodies have been exquisitely designed, our wounds need attention and care.