I think all of us have a list of questions that we’ll have at the ready to ask our Lord when we get to heaven. Many “whys” and “how comes” and “did it really have to be that way” types of inquiries. (Of course, let it be known that all will be made known in the light of His Glory, so we won’t even have to ask …)
Nevertheless, when I get there (God-willing), one of my first questions will be aimed right at St. Paul: “Why did you tell wives to be submissive to their husbands?”
Kidding – although we will chat about that, too, no doubt.
My real question: “What was the thorn in your flesh?”
I’ve been fascinated by that statement for as long as I’ve been reading and praying with the Scriptures, but not for the reasons one may think. It’s not out of some prurient fascination with another person’s hidden struggles and faults. It’s not because I want to know Paul’s “dark side.”
Rather, I want to learn what made him a saint.
Paul’s letter to the local Church community at Corinth (our second reading) is an authentic heart-to-heart revelation from a disciple speaking with fellow disciples; a breaking-open of one’s life so that others who make the same graced journey as Paul know that they aren’t alone.
It’s here where we see Paul’s heart at its most humble, and it is here where we see Paul show us the “secret” to true holiness.
While it is true that the Apostle to the Gentiles often can come across in his letters as both braggadocios and extravagantly bold in his claims (“Imitate me”), Paul’s admission of the thorn in his flesh reminds us that no one escapes the crosses and challenges of life, not even the greatest of the women and men whom we call saints.
Paul, like each of us, wrestled with this thorn; begged for it to be taken away more than once … and yet, God chose to leave it right where it was.
Been there, done that.
I’m sure all of us could say the same. What thorns of your personality and your life’s journey have pierced your soul and caused you much heartache? What thorns have kept you awake at night; unsure of your place in the world; fearful to take off the masks you wear to protect yourself? What thorn do you wish would just go away?
The prayer challenge this week is not only to pray and reflect on that question, but then to take the next step: invite God’s grace into that very space of woundedness and hurt, and let him use the thorn.
That’s all he wants, and what a beautiful difference God will make with it when we offer it to Him – surrender it all to Him -- for His purpose, according to His Divine and Perfect Will.
It’s the thorns covered in grace that allow the beautiful rose of the Kingdom to bloom and grow.
Just the other day, my mom shared with me a letter from the pastor published in her parish’s bulletin which stated that the priest needed to take a period of rest and healing due to extreme levels of “anxiety, constant insomnia and a reliance on alcohol that had become a little too much as of late.” Father is only in his 40s and been ordained less than 14 years.
In his note to his parish, Father was humble and honest enough to write the following sentence: “I thought I could handle it on my own, but came to the realization through prayer and good friends that I need help.”
Humble honesty allowed the thorn to become the avenue of healing and grace, not just for this young pastor but for his parish as well.
Because of this, an entire community of disciples came together to support both their beloved priest and each other as they made their way forward. Others stepped up to lead and guide as they awaited guidance from their diocese. Real conversations were had about supporting young clergy who are often overtaxed and burdened with the weight of many responsibilities as vocations decline throughout the American church.
Perhaps most beautifully: the grace of the thorn revealed by Father in his own life allowed others in the same parish to find the courage to open-up and offer their “thorn” to God, too. They no longer had to hide it, ignore it, or cope with it in ways that were shameful and unhealthy.
In the thorn, we find grace. In the thorn, we find humility – if we but give it to God.
I wonder, quite frankly, if it was the humility of Jesus above all else that caused his own neighbors and friends to reject him. Here was God-made-man living and working among the very souls he came to redeem, and they refused to accept the grace and mercy of God who wanted nothing more than to set them free from sin and death, hatred and selfishness.
He asked for their thorns, and they refused to let him in those very spaces he wanted to save – perhaps because they thought they knew better; perhaps because they couldn’t envision a Savior who came in humility to rescue the lost.
How could a carpenter – one like us -- save us? How could an average son of two average parents have such knowledge of the Father? How could this be?
It came to be because that is what authentic Love does: it humbles itself to walk with those who suffer, and it redeems by pouring grace into every thorn that is revealed to the One who saves. Have no doubt that the thorns Christ experienced on Calvary were accepted and embraced by Him out of love for the thorns he knew we’d feel along our journey back to His Heart. He accepted his thorns so we would offer Him ours.
And when we do, what beautiful grace comes: like St. Paul, we remind the Church that we journey together to sainthood. Like the parish priest from Pennsylvania who opened his heart to his congregation about his own struggles, we help others find healing and strength and hope, too.
Jesus’ neighbors once asked the question: How did he learn all this?
The answer has to be: the humility of allowing grace reach the thorns that remain with us.