My Thorn in the Flesh

Last year, I visited my parents at my childhood home. Sitting down for breakfast, I noticed that my mother’s big KJV Bible was open to a psalm on the left and a piece of paper marked “prayer list” to the right. Almost all of the names and requests were scratched through, as if to signify an answered prayer. A whole college-ruled page had every line filled. Scanning from the bottom line to the top, I found my name and her prayer for me — DELIVERANCE — without a line drawn through it. 

From a very early age, I was taught that this way of living was not congruent with Christianity, only to be extinguished by prayer and faith. Maybe it would take being sent away to get rid of this ailment. It may even be described as the work of Satan or the enemy having control over one’s mind. Those who struggled in this way were rarely mentioned, but if they were, you would have to read between the lines to decode the mystery. 

I was told that I could treat my weakness by taking a walk, or praying it away as long as I had enough faith. Others went so far to say that what I experienced was demonic or an abomination which needed expulsion. When I was a teenager, I felt this could be true which made me push aside feelings of suspicion for over a decade. 

My struggles affected how I related to others, and contributed to fears of getting intimate with others. What if I went too far? What if I hurt someone? What if I did something wrong that could not be reversed? What if I was cast aside from my community?

Maybe the best chance for me was to take myself out of this life and rid myself of life’s struggles. I thought of it frequently without others knowing. I was really good at pretending to be someone I wasn’t, until I couldn’t hide anymore. In fact, this may have led to more extreme outcomes than my greatest fears could fathom. 

If my own parents could not verbalize it or, alternatively, warn me of things I’ve never participated in, how could I tell others around me? How could I have meaningful relationships with people? 

My most destructive actions have caused broken relationships, replaying situations and ruminating on poor decisions I’ve made in the past, and fearing what could happen in the future. 

Was this the result of my own shortcomings, something happening to me as a young child, or was I born this way? It was hard to determine since I realized this later in life than many others.

My mom’s prayer for me was deliverance — but not from homosexuality. Writing that word would have meant acceptance of what I’d shared with her about my sexuality several years prior. I come from a Christian tradition that places big faith in prayer and healing, but rarely any emphasis on struggle and tribulation. If you have enough faith or if you pray enough, whatever you ask will be done for you. Right? Isn’t that what “ask and it will be given to you” means? If I sow a seed in the correct favored ministry, could I then rid myself of the discomforts of life or any temptation I may have?

What if it doesn’t go away?

Everyone’s story has different rest stops and obstacles. For mine, my biggest “road block” doesn’t come from my sexuality. Jesus tells us to pick up our cross and deny ourselves every day, so while I (ideally) fight against my lust (regardless of gender) daily and live a celibate life, how shall I approach my bipolar diagnosis? 

While my upbringing gave little space to suffering and tribulation, the Bible certainly does. In the Old and New Testament alike, we see faithful people experiencing pain and suffering. As we read in 2 Corinthians 12:7, Paul mentions a thorn in his side, and from the metaphor here, we can determine that whatever it is, it is painful. There are plenty of various intelligent people with various intelligent theories on what Paul’s thorn was. A few theories about the thorn state that it was a physical ailment, mental struggle, temptation, or even a person opposing his ministry.

What we do know about Paul’s thorn are two things for certain: that whatever it was kept him from boasting in himself, and that Paul asked multiple times for God to take it away — and God did not. 

Bipolar may, in fact, be the thorn in my side. How many times have I, like my mom, prayed for deliverance from mental illness? Whether I am delivered or not, God has not abandoned me. He has been with me throughout this process, even on days when I not only hated my destructive behaviors, but I also hated myself. Especially as an angsty, struggling teen, I felt God wasn’t aware of how my suffering was affecting me, or how bad it was since I was so good at fooling others.

While I didn’t understand exactly what was going on, I could at least observe that I struggled with anxiety and depression, and it wouldn’t be until a decade later that I’d embark on a nonlinear journey that’s led me to where I am today. 

I wish I could say that I was only exaggerating my fears. I have hurt people. I have said things that couldn’t be taken back. I have feared the “crash” while feeling days of happiness before feeling the bleakness that would often follow. 

I have experienced a lot of shame replaying the ways I’ve hurt people in my life. I’ve acknowledged that some friendship dynamics have changed. I’ve accepted that some friendships have come to an end. I believe that while forgiveness and reconciliation are possible, I know that the two are not exclusive. I have worked steadily to understand my triggers, seek mentorship, get counseling, and find medication that works for me.

I’ve sought to apologize to those I’ve hurt with the decisions I made and words I said, while I still continue to forgive myself. I hold two things: the pain I’ve caused others and the pain I’ve experienced, too.

Despite feeling undeserving of love for what I’ve done, what I have felt from God and others has proven the opposite: not only that I deserve love, but also that I am loved. While I find ways to manage my diagnosis, it does not run my life or define me. Long before I was born, whether with a genetic inclination or not, I was known and loved by God. When I experienced doubt, when I was angry, and when I experienced joy, I was known and loved by God. 

Psalm 88 offers a strange comfort to me, in that some psalms don’t end with a crescendo of praise to the Lord. While some may end in something like, “I will praise You all day long” or “But in You, O Lord, I trust,” this particular psalm’s author ends by saying that all have abandoned him, and darkness has become his closest friend.

Some psalms aren’t written in a way that would top the Christian music charts. Job is another example of someone who wouldn’t necessarily be invited to share his testimony on the Trinity Broadcasting Network. What these examples from Scripture show me is that we are allowed to struggle and have faithless days. God is not afraid of difficult rhetorical questions and not offended by our feelings of abandonment from Him.

We also see in Job that suffering is often not a result of one’s own sin or the sin of one’s families, but a reality of living in a world that is not fully good, as we will one day experience. Jesus, called the Man of Sorrows, is all too familiar with suffering, yet He is aware of a place with no more suffering that exists for us, too. Jesus even knows about thorns, wearing a literal crown of them while suffering on the cross.

We may never know what Paul’s thorn was. Because of my upbringing, I ask myself if it’s limiting God’s power if I call bipolar disorder the thorn in my side. Whether I am delivered from this or not, I must accept this part of me as something real and present in my past and current state.

It does not diminish God’s strength to say this may never go away. In Paul’s case, in fact, it does the opposite.

By acknowledging this weakness, I’m compelled to rely on God’s strength instead of my own. Testimony does not always include healing or deliverance. This is part of Paul’s testimony, in as much as his drastic heart change and his commission to ministry by Jesus himself. Testimony is not meant to be about us, but about how constant and faithful God is when we aren’t. 

Our testimony continues with this message for the rest of our lives. May we continue to remember it as we boast in our weakness. 

Therefore, in order to keep me from becoming conceited, I was given a thorn in my flesh, a messenger of Satan, to torment me. Three times I pleaded with the Lord to take it away from me. But he said to me, “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.” Therefore I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ’s power may rest on me. That is why, for Christ’s sake, I delight in weaknesses, in insults, in hardships, in persecutions, in difficulties. For when I am weak, then I am strong.

— 2 Corinthians 12:7-10 (NIV)

When have you felt God’s strength while experiencing personal weakness? What parts of scripture do you find comfort in during difficult times?