When the Thorn Remains
The garden outside our Welsh cottage is small but lovely. However, interspersed among the beauty are thorns. Nasty, prickly thorns that seem to appear from nowhere and everywhere all at once.
A few days ago, Tess came bounding into the house from her garden adventures, but instead of her usual exuberance, she limped across the floor, frantically licking her front paw. Jason scooped her up immediately, cradling her like a baby to examine the source of her distress.
"There it is," he announced, pointing to an enormous thorn embedded deeply in the pad of her paw. "This is going to hurt, girl."
As if understanding his words, Tess began to squirm and whimper, but Jason held her firmly. With one swift movement, he extracted the thorn. Tess yelped, then immediately relaxed in his arms.
"Good girl," we cooed, showering her with pets and cuddles. "Such a brave girl!"
Within minutes, she was prancing around again, the pain forgotten, the thorn discarded.
Later, as I sat in my office watching the rain patter against the window panes, I thought about that thorn and couldn't help but see the contradiction. I love Tess fiercely, so naturally, when she had a painful thorn, I didn't hesitate to remove it immediately.
So why has God—who loves me infinitely more than I could ever love my little terrier—allowed certain thorns to remain in my life for years despite my earnest prayers? The pain of fibromyalgia. The limitations of hypermobility. The shadows of anxiety and depression. Why hasn't He plucked them out swiftly like Jason did for Tess?
The Apostle Paul asked a similar question. He wrote: "And lest I should be exalted above measure through the abundance of the revelations, there was given to me a thorn in the flesh, the messenger of Satan to buffet me, lest I should be exalted above measure. For this thing I besought the Lord thrice, that it might depart from me" (2 Corinthians 12:7-8).
Paul, the great apostle, prayed three times for his thorn to be removed. And God's answer? Not a swift extraction, but rather: "My grace is sufficient for thee: for my strength is made perfect in weakness" (2 Corinthians 12:9).
Sometimes God removes our thorns immediately. Other times, He allows them to remain because He's working something greater through them. Through our thorns, we learn dependence on Him. We develop compassion for others who suffer. We experience God's grace in ways we never would in comfort.
I've discovered that my thorns have driven me deeper into Scripture, made me more sensitive to others' pain, and kept me humble in my service. They've become instruments of grace in God's hands.
Paul eventually reached this conclusion: "Most gladly therefore will I rather glory in my infirmities, that the power of Christ may rest upon me" (2 Corinthians 12:9).
Perhaps the greatest miracle isn't when God removes our thorns, but when He transforms them into channels of His power and grace in our lives. In His wisdom, sometimes the thorn remains—not because He loves us less, but because He's accomplishing something more beautiful than quick relief.