Ouch
Three puncture wounds in less than twenty minutes. A dangerous pace.
I could have used a suit of armor for trimming the thorn tree in the corner of our backyard. That’s right. Tree. Not bush. Bushes are lawn decorations about 7 feet tall. This spiked beast stands 25 feet tall and you can hang on its limbs – if you could fit your fingers between the 2 ½ inch thorns poking out in all directions.
Not a problem. I’d be careful. I’d wear gloves. I’d … ouch! Now that wasn’t nice! This thorn tree jabbed a needle-sharp prong into my neck as the limb I cut fell a bit too close for comfort. Oh well. I went on to drop a half dozen limbs each about as thick as the handle of a baseball bat. Time to haul them to our dying garden to shrivel like everything else in this arena of dirt and browning leaf waiting to be burned in the weeks ahead.
If I could just arrange these two limbs and lift them together … ouch! How did that happen?! I see blood trickling from a five inch scratch down my inner forearm. Not a lot of blood, really. Just enough to send me a message to be more careful. Good idea.
On the trip back from the garden I notice my other arm has a scratch too. Three puncture wounds in less than twenty minutes. A dangerous pace. It was good that I’d be raking up the rest of the … ouch! That stung! Into the side of my foot just under my Nike swoosh a thorn buried its tip with vengeance, as if lashing out at me for cutting it from its roots.
I paused and pondered. Did I really expect to dismantle a thorn tree without getting stuck? Could there be a way to avoid the wounds? I concluded that the only way to be perfectly sanitized would be to not trim the tree at all. Period.
Don’t trim the thorn tree. No pain. Trim the thorn tree. Blood will flow. That’s all there was to it.
Except for the thought of a crown of thorns pressed into my Savior’s scalp. I pondered that. How it must have hurt! I wondered if the thorns were about this size, or maybe smaller if they were fashioned into a crown and placed on his head. Did he really expect to save humanity and not get hurt? Could there have been a way for him to avoid the pain? Sure. To not save humanity at all.
Don’t save humanity. No pain. Save humanity. Suffering, death, and crucifixion with spikes much bigger than needle-sized thorns. Ouch. He did that for us. And now …
We also have our thorns. Poked fun of because we have different weekend priorities than our friends at work. Jabbed with accusations from a conscience that is too sensitive to allow us to be comfortable in sin. Stabbed with schedule conflicts that zing at us unexpectedly like poison darts, all because we are trying to help other people.
Do you really expect that the Christian life will be painless? Is there a way to not get hurt? Sure. Don’t live a Christian life. Walk away from the thorn-crowned Savior whose blood saved us forever.
No. That’s not for us. Bring the pain. We’ll bear it with Jesus who gives us strength. “The sufferings of Christ flow over into our lives” (2 Corinthians 1:5). It’s called “bearing the cross.” It’s a choice we make, like choosing to trim a thorn tree or Jesus choosing to save humanity. We don’t have to, of course.
But we want to.
PRAYER: Sometimes I hurt so much, Jesus. I hurt inside with guilt knowing I’ve been sloppy and careless in my Christian life. I hurt others with selfish actions and mean words I know I shouldn’t have done or said. I hurt you. And it all hurts me. This is, ironically, pain that I expect but then I’m so surprised when I must bear the cross and your sufferings flow into my life. Prepare me to expect that pain. Strengthen me to endure it without losing faith. And be there on that cross, carrying that cross with me, and loving me always through the cross that bears only your name. Amen.