“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.”
II Corinthians 12:7-10 (New International Version)
Writing to fellow Christians in the city of Corinth in about 55 A.D., the apostle Paul cited “a thorn in the flesh, a messenger of Satan to torment” him. Scholars have occasionally speculated on what that thorn might have been. Was it problems with his vision? He had alluded to a problem like this in his letter to the Galatians. Could it have been a person, perhaps, someone like Alexander the coppersmith who Paul referred to in one of his letters to a young Christian named Timothy? Could it have been the temptations we all face on a daily basis?
Scholars simply don’t know, but it seemed to be a very real problem. It frustrated him enough to call it a “thorn in the flesh.”
For several years now I’ve had a “thorn in the flesh.” Mine is Parkinson’s disease. “What is Parkinson’s?” you might be asking. I really couldn’t give you a detailed medical description Parkinson’s disease, but I know it’s been around for a long time. In 175 A.D., for example, the ancient Greek physician Galen described it as “shaking palsy.”
I first noticed it when I developed a tremor in my left hand. Any time I picked up something like a cup of coffee in a saucer with my left hand it would shake and the cup and saucer rattle around. I found it quite amusing, so much so that I started using the cup and saucer as part of my own little comedy routine when company would come to our house. I loved the telling expressions my routine evoked. No one would say a word about what they were thinking, but I knew. “My God, he’s gonna’ drop them. I hope they’re not Wedgewood or Royal Albert.”
The routine grew old. The puzzled looks became icy stares that all but shouted, “Stop it Phil!”
Next, a new symptom came. I’d always prided myself on being able to multitask. I spent a good part of my professional life working for FedEx, where being nimble, quick thinking is absolutely essential. I was really good at it, as both a logistics analyst and a service engineer.
Nancy was the first to notice the drastic change. I was driving one day, with her in the passenger seat. As was my habit, I talked as I drove, but it ended quite abruptly. In the most emphatic voice I’ve ever heard from her I heard the following – “Pull the car over. Slick. You’re all over the road. You can’t drive and talk at the same time anymore. You just can’t. It’s Parkinson’s.”
As much as I would have liked to deny it, I couldn’t. This was more than not being able to “chew gum and walk at the same time.” This was serious. I had to accept the truth that there were some things I couldn’t do any more.
Accepting this truth was hard at first. I value my independence, but things had changed. I was no longer the nimble multi-tasker. It was at this point “grace appeared.” While some things had changed, others hadn’t. Parkinson’s had placed limits on one thing, but grace opened another avenue for me to get from place to place. Nancy started doing all the driving.
What an arrangement! I could still get around, thanks to Nancy’s willingness act as surrogate Uber driver. She drives; we talk; the car stays between the lines.
Another byproduct of Parkinson’s is the diminished ability to maintain good balance. I like to do things around the house. We own a second property, a loft in Kansas City’s River market district. It’s a small unit, about 800 square feet. One of the interesting features of the unit is the high ceiling. It’s about 18 feet high, with light fixtures placed strategically at points where the ceiling and walls meet. When one of the lightbulbs goes it, it means that someone has to replace it.
Several months ago, one of the bulbs did go out. I went and got a long extension ladder that’s provided by the homeowners’ association. It was a difficult enough chore getting it into the unit, but I managed. Next, I extended the ladder against the wall. With a lightbulb in hand, I began to slowly make my way to the top. Once I got to the top, I took a deep breath and unscrewed the burned-out bulb. Then, it happened. As I reached into the pocket of my hoodie to get the new bulb, I felt my balance giving way. I tried to steady myself, but it didn’t work. It only took a few seconds, but it felt like eight hours. All the way down I kept telling myself, ”Protect your head…protect your head.” I felt and heard the ”thud” as I hit the concreate floor, shoulder first. I laid on the floor for a few minutes, trying to assess how much damage I’d done to myself. Not much, fortunately. My shoulder was sore for a few days and my brain had rattled a bit, but that was the extent of the damage.
I learned a valuable lesson from that fall. I don’t climb ladders anymore!
I have to admit it. Parkinsons can be very humbling. While I can never claim to be a superstar or a strongman, I’d like to think I can multitask or climb ladders with ease. The truth is, I can’t.
I can see my limitations, but like Paul in the New Testament, I am learning a very valuable truth. “My grace is sufficient for you.”
It also helps to have allies as I contend with my thorn in the flesh. When I was first diagnosed with Parkinsons, my neurologist would end every session with the words, “Engage Mr. Dillon….engage!” It was another way of saying, “Don’t give in to the temptation to quit battling.” I haven’t and I won’t.
For several years now I’ve been enrolled in a program called “Rock Steady.” It’s a non-contact boxing/exercise program that’s been designed for people with Parkinsons. It’s sponsored by North Kansas City Hospital. I attend classes on Tuesdays and Thursdays, and I’ve grown to love it. I love being able to interact with folks like me who are engaged in their own battles with Parkinsons. I fumble around with my buddies Doc, Noodles, Dave, Lee, Mike and a host of other wonderful people. We all have an occasional laugh at our own expense as we do our fumbling. I remember once falling and using my dry Irish wit to lighten the atmosphere as folks came to my aid. “He never tagged me, ump. I was safe….I was safe.” That sort of thing happens a lot. We also get to wear boxing gloves and whale away at punching bags with series of jabs, hooks, uppercuts, and so forth. When it’s my turn I like to pretend that I’m whaling away at some self-absorbed national or local politician. Oh my, that is really fun!
In addition to Rock Steady, I also volunteer at North Kansas City hospital across the street on Tuesdays from 11:00 a.m. to 3:00 p.m. In that short span of time love transporting patients to and from appointments, with occasional opportunities to interact with them, trying my best to lift their spirits. Knowing my limitations in terms of multi-tasking I steer clear of the computers at the Pavilion desk. I like it so much that I now consider myself a “pusher,” with a qualifying addendum to my title. “I’m a pusher without being pushy.
One of the great benefits of interacting with patients who need help is seeing my own “thorn in the flesh” from a healthier perspective. If/when I want to feel sorry for myself, interacting with patients with far more serious problems than mine changes things. At those times when I feel like lamenting, providing a bit of support for someone far more needy than me is a wakeup call: “Come on Phil, things could be far worse. You do have a thorn in your flesh, but so do many others you interact with on a daily basis. You need to see that God’s grace is sufficient for you. You need to fumble around. You need to laugh at yourself occasionally. You need to push with whatever strength you have. And, above all, you need to engage….engage…..engage!”