For much of my life, I’ve been a runner. Back in middle school, I was a part of the long distance track team. Notice I didn’t say “competitive part.” I participated on the team, and that was good enough for me. I was active, it helped me connect with other kids socially, and I enjoyed doing something other than academics while at school. Plus I only weighed about 87 pounds, so taking part in a sport that requires no physical contact with another human being is a great one when you’re roughly the size of a baby Hobbit.
As I moved on into my high school years, I naturally continued running on both the track team, and then cross country team. I loved it for many reasons, and was thankful for those chapters in my life, but when I reached college age, I discontinued my running “adventures” and didn’t really pick them back up again until I got married almost a decade later. My wife and I enjoyed running together on several occasions, and we both even entered a few long distance races in the greater Philadelphia area where we settled.
One such race was the Broad Street Run; a ten-mile race through the heart of central Philadelphia that started as a straight shot from the northern part of the city and ended near the sports stadiums where the Flyers, Eagles, and Phillies play. We both trained hard for the race, and were in great shape once the starting gun went off in early May of 2009.
Despite the drizzling rain during the majority of the race that morning, my wife and I both had a great experience running in it, and even finished with finishing times we could both be happy telling other people about. In the days following, we did a few “cool down” runs to make sure our bodies adjusted appropriately because we weren’t on the training schedule anymore, and we even ran sporadically to stay in shape as springtime ended and the summer approached.
But about 14 days after my wife and I ran the Broad Street Run, I started to feel this aching pain in my right leg that started up in the middle of my right-side lower back and extended all the way down my leg to the middle of my right calf muscle. The pain was sharp in some places on my leg/upper thigh, and throbbing enough in other places to make me uncomfortable in nearly any position I tried to get in while standing or sitting. Sometimes it felt better when I would wake up from sleep in the morning, but most of the time it was a steady stream of pain that cut into me on a consistent enough basis that made it impossible to ignore.
During those summer months after the Broad Street Run, I was away from home on a missions trip out of state, so I didn’t have direct access to my family physician other than by phone. I called him and told him what my symptoms were, but without an in-office examination, it was going to be impossible to accurately diagnose what my specific issue was. I had to wait until I got home before I could get on the solution side of what was making my leg hurt so much. I gritted my teeth through much of those painful two months, and when the missions trip was over, I immediately went to go see my doctor.
After a series of tests, including numerous physical examinations, a blood sample, and an MRI, my doctor came to the conclusion that I had a bulging disc between my L5 and S1 vertebrae that was putting pressure on my sciatic nerve, causing the radiating pain from my lower back to the middle of my right leg. Apparently, the diagnosis was a common one for many people who were physically active like me, so he prescribed some anti-inflammatory medication and six to eight weeks of physical therapy in order to strengthen the core muscles around my spine and relieve some of that pressure on my sciatic nerve. We hoped that would do the trick and eliminate the pain that acted as a constant irritation in my daily life…but it didn’t.
Eight weeks of physical therapy sessions came and went and the pain still remained. As a fellow dedicated follower of Jesus Christ, my doctor prayed for me during my routine appointments, and remained optimistic as we moved on to another potential solution. He recommended injections that would localize the medication to that specific area in my back and possibly make the pain subside. Despite my irrational fear of needles, I agreed and trusted that this was going to be the best solution for me.
But it wasn’t. In fact, during the second injection procedure, the specialist working on me accidentally clipped the nerve in my back, causing it to spasm. That error put me in the most excruciating pain I’ve ever experienced for two solid days. I was miserable. I remember one night leaning against the wall in my bathroom with my head buried in the towels that hung from the rack and crying uncontrollably because I was in so much pain.
The following months brought more potential solutions, but no relief. I tried seeing a chiropractor, an orthopedic specialist, a neurosurgeon, and even an acupuncturist. Nothing helped. I discussed lower back surgery with the neurosurgeon in our meeting together, but after an examination of my most recent MRI, he told me that he didn’t see anything in the images that would warrant major surgery…plus there were no guarantees that it would be successful and take away my pain anyway.
Many failed attempts to restore my health and 5 and a half years later, I continue to live with daily chronic pain.
This is the medical side of the issue. But as a follower of Christ and someone who sufferers physical pain, it’s important for me to push past the temptation to dwell on the pain itself and move toward something more—something deeper than the pain. It’s rather difficult to do because the pain is always an “in your face” reminder of how much life can literally hurt, but when I begin to focus on the numerous layers beneath the pain, I can start to see a bigger picture beyond the physical suffering.
I continue to explore what the Lord has for me to learn in these trying times of suffering. I’ve read Tim Keller’s book on pain and suffering, along with a few other good pieces of writing to help focus me appropriately. But the conclusion I have come to lately is this: God is God, and despite my experiences that might provide evidence to the contrary—He is good and He loves me.
I recently heard a conference speaker say that Scripture must interpret our experiences…not the other way around. This is something I’ve been learning on a daily basis for a long, long time. If my circumstances teach me that God doesn’t care about me (a direct argument against what the Bible communicates about God and His love for me), life begins to unravel very quickly. Dark times await for me on that path if I choose to walk it.
So despite what my leg tells me every day, Jesus is good. He is in control. He loves me. He has to because the Bible tells me so. And though I live with chronic pain every hour of every day, I will place my trust in the compass that points true north: the Word of God. Allowing anything else to rest at the center of my life (other opinions, personal experiences, emotions, etc.) would be a mistake that could cost me far too much.
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