At a very young age, I was versed on what it meant to be mortal. Mortality to my simple mind means that when you have something penetrate your tissue there is a high probability it is going to cause at a minimum, some discomfort. As a child I exposed myself to danger on a daily basis. It never failed that the things that required the greatest feats to complete, left me unscathed, it was more the simplistic things that caused great agony. 

I don’t remember what age it was, but I know I was not driving yet, for if I was, I would have surely gone to see a doctor.  I had spent the day wondering around the woods, pretending most likely to be looking for some secret treasure, or undiscovered dwelling, only to return home with a burning pain in my hand.  Upon close examination I noticed a discoloration in the palm of my hand.  I immediately poured alcohol on it, and started to pinch it, hoping to get whatever it was out.  It, what ever it was, did not move.  I then went to get one off my model airplane knives and began to carve away at the palm of my hand. The Lord thankfully had blessed me with a very high tolerance for pain. I dug, and dug, bled and bled, but whatever it was continued to go deeper and deeper. Before you knew it the entire sink was bloody. I concluded to pack it with medicine, put a bandage on it and proceeded to clean up my mess. Whatever it was would have to now be a guest of my body. Or so I thought. It was to be about a week later, while riding my bike that this wound really began to irritate me. But under close investigation I saw nothing, but a bump, of freshly healed skin. I once again began to pinch it; soon it exploded in a mess of puss and blood. I know, was rather gross, but really cool as a kid. I soon go home and begin the operation yet again. As last time, I have no luck, and the object moves what seemed to be only further. In pure frustration I make a cut in front of the wound, and slice my palm wide open, peel back the flesh, and there lies a nice size black thorn. I douse it with alcohol, and got the tweezers to dig it out. This thing was huge, I was very proud. It took only about a month to heal my hand, but to this very day I can see the scar. From the scar, I get a memory. One that reflects well on boy hood, as well as to be careful where I place my hands.

In Second Corinthians chapter Twelve Paul speaks of a thorn, one he has asked the Lord “thrice” times to remove. However the Lord has not. He states this thorn was brought to him by way of a “messenger of Satan” to torment him. The word “messenger” also translates Angel. Angels are spirits, they are not flesh. From this I gather that this “thorn” was some sort of tormenting Spirit of Satan. To what, I will some day ask him, for I can not stop thinking about it. Some believe it was an ailment of his flesh. I on the other hand have a very poorly documented theory that this was something of a more mental state that tormented him relentlessly.

When a thorn penetrates flesh, it does so by one way alone, contact.  Once this contact is made, it easily embeds itself deep within the tissue of the body. Once there, it has barbs that prevent it from being easily knocked, out. Some thorns actually break into tiny little pieces so as to even further complicate matters.  With this being said, we as humans, as Paul, are exposed to potential “thorns” from day one of our life, on a spiritual sense. As my story from childhood, innocently searching the woods out of curiosity, I was impaled by a thorn. It did not make itself known until much later. So I believe it is on a spiritual level.

We all at one point out of curiosity looked a little too far into something, or delved into a subject we should have not. This is when I believe we receive “our messenger of Satan”, our own thorn. We initiate the contact. These thorns are by not trivial by any means, more so for myself they are very consuming, and a constant battle. They are spiritual. I get ever so frustrated at times, asking, “Why must I continue to be tempted in these ways?” Paul answers this for me as I read further.

 Second Corinthians, Twelve Verse Eight, “My grace is sufficient for you, for My power is made perfect in your weakness”.  There are some things, that I am not going to be able to overcome by my own will, this is well known. However there are others that I am going to continue to have trouble with, no matter how much I beseech my Father in heaven. If a man of Paul’s poise, knowledge and stature, went before the Lord and pleaded for Him to take it away from him and it was not, then surely there are going to be thorns of mine that will remain as well. It is not due to the fact that I am doing something wrong, or cursed, have a foul nature, or even that I am weak, but more so it is due to the need for my dependence upon my Father in Heaven, and the display of this fact for all to see. It is when I am weak, and when I feel like folding to temptation, and frustration that His strength is made known. Paul ends it well, in this statement, “Therefore I will boast, all the more gladly about my weakness, so that Christ power may rest upon me.”

In closing I have many a thorn, though these thorns I am not proud of, they are proof of where I have been, however by the grace of God I am no longer. Though I continue to wrestle with the messenger, it is not by choice nor by consequence. By His strength and to His glory that I withstand, and boast as Paul in my weakness.