Along with over seven million other people, I’ve had knee replacement surgery. It was followed by physical therapy (as in the day after I got home from the hospital). I was more than okay with that though—the sooner you get started, the sooner you get done.
I’ve had an excellent physical therapist. He’s quite experienced, works me hard, but always prepares me for whatever the next step of my rehab involves. And did I mention he’s an excellent communicator?
I usually have PT on a MWF schedule, but one week he needed to have me do MWT. As we started working out that Thursday, I was moving a little slow not having had my usual day to recover. On one particular exercise, he noticed I was struggling and asked how I was doing. I said, “That hurts.” His reply?
“You’re welcome.”
I laughed because I totally believe in what he’s doing. After all, I wasn’t in any kind of serious pain or pain that would result in an injury—it was just the pain of being pushed. (Some practitioners don’t like to speak of therapy as being painful, so they use the word “discomfort,” but I think they’re splitting hairs). After all, it’s not “no discomfort, no gain”—it’s “No pain, no gain.” And the truth is, my physical therapist wasn’t doing anything to me physically that God doesn’t try to do with us spiritually.
But for whatever reason, we don’t tend to make a strong connection between pain and spiritual growth. I’m not sure why—the Scripture has a plenty to say on the subject. We’re even told by the Hebrew writer concerning Jesus that, “Son though He was, He learned obedience from the things He suffered” (5:8). It would seem axiomatic that if Jesus couldn’t learn obedience apart from suffering, neither will we. Yet for some reason, we persistently resist this idea and seek a painless growth.
Now due to just my limited experience, the idea of painless therapy (or at least painless knee replacement therapy) brings a smile to my face. I can’t imagine that or anyone who understands therapy thinking that’s the way it works. But to be fair, I haven’t painted the complete picture. Most of the painful things I do happen during therapy, where I am just one of many people—all going through similar types of things. There’s a camaraderie that starts in the waiting room where instead of staring at screens we often talk with each other. And I didn’t mention that our physical therapist is always there with us during therapy? All this means that our pain is not an isolated experience—there is a community of people going through it together and always someone watching over them. Does that sound familiar? It’s the biblical model for dealing with suffering.
There’s also this: there is purpose to our pain. What we’re actually doing is enduring some short-term pain and discomfort to bring about healing and wholeness. Again, the Hebrew writer will say in 12:11-13:
No discipline seems pleasant at the time, but painful. Later on, however, it produces a harvest of righteousness and peace for those who have been trained by it. Therefore, strengthen your feeble arms and weak knees. “Make level paths for your feet,” so that the lame may not be disabled, but rather healed.
L. E. Thayer wrote these lines:
For every hill I’ve had to climb,
For every stone that bruised my feet,
For all the blood and sweat and grime,
For blinding storms and burning heat
My heart sings but a grateful song—
These were the things that made me strong!
Don’t be afraid to give your discomfort, suffering, and pain a brave hearing and look for the greater good God is working through them.
A Taste of Grace with Bruce Green 