I woke up this morning in pain. Or I should say, pain brought my slumbering to an end? An aching in my shoulder could not be relieved by any number of positions I attempted. So, I got out of bed, stumbled to the bathroom and fumbled for a bottle of Ibuprofen. I popped a couple and waited for the soreness to subside. And while I did I pondered pain and what it had to teach us. But now my mind was racing with a thousand things this silent messenger can say. So, I got up again and filled 6 pages with my observations. For the sake of space I’ll only share a few.
We first read of pain in the solemn words spoken to the freshly fallen pair. God tells the man and woman that both their labors will be pocked with pain. The man in bringing produce from the earth, the woman in bringing offspring from her womb. By this, we learn that pain is from the hand of God. It is a tacit and compelling teacher of the doctrine of the Fall. We are meant to be reminded of the scourge sin in all our aches and pains. Not that our current pain is necessarily from a recent moral failing, but its distressing and persistent presence reminds us of the heritage we share. Our heavenly Father would not spare this loving rod that leads us home.
And while pain bears this general and ancient message from the Garden, it also alerts us to a world of current dangers. How kind of God to not allow our wandering barefoot through a world of broken glass. Pain lets us know that there are things that could destroy us here. The smell of burning flesh would come too late to save our skin. The sudden sting of heat most often spares us from the blistered hand. We may find distaste in our discomfort, still, we recognize that numbness would be worse. The network of nerves that alerts us to a threat, is the self-same field of feelings that heightens all our joys. We recognize that pain is still on the spectrum where pleasure’s also found.
Pain is a dialect that every ear has heard, even if we can’t translate it to the native language of our tongues. We struggle for expressions to define the way we feel, with words like “dull,” or “shooting,” or “sharp,” but our hearers usually know just what we mean. The mere mention of common ailments can produce a recalled writhing, and the faces of our listeners wrinkle with remembrance at our words. They too have stubbed a toe or felt the sting of sunburn or the clanging ache of cavities and kidney stones. Just as creation is a testifying voice in every nation, so pain is a fluent communicator in every land as well.
But pain is really nothing in itself. It must always be interpreted by our brains to have a point. Indeed, it could be truly said that pain only finds existence in our heads. Not that there aren’t things outside ourselves that harm us, but the agony only finds a voice inside our minds. How many soldiers have been distracted from their bullet holes by the raging chaos all around them? Not until they saw their blood did they register the pain. Their wounds had placed an order for reaction, but the brain was busy serving other customers.
Pain comes in many forms. We can hurt in every part of us – physical, mental, emotional, and spiritual. There doesn’t seem to be a piece of us not subject to its stabs. Sometimes pain comes from something present, sometimes from something longed for, either in the future or in our past. The presence of scorching heat can make us miserable, just as lacking heat can make us bitter cold. The pain of separation can be rivaled by tension in relationships at home. And sometimes soreness seems to have no point at all, as when amputees complain of “phantom pains” in limbs no longer there. It’s as if the unemployed receptors in their brains don’t know what to do with all the free time that they have.
But in every case, pain urges us towards research and reflection. That we hurt is not the point at all, the cause must be the focus and prodding to the cure. And the sufferer is wisest who doesn’t wallow or compare his pain with others. He’s healed the most who doesn’t find his balm on earth but lets his pain be swallowed up in coming joy. There is a future weight of glory that will tip the scales forever. The salve that soothed the aching heart of Job was not the answers to his questions, but the One Who showed Himself to him. May all our anguish lead us to the God of every comfort here, and remind us that He also knows what wounds are like.
