THORNS.
The Christian world has long been guessing what Paul's thorn in the flesh
was. I have a book that in ten pages tries to show what Paul's thorn was
not, and in another ten pages tries to show what it was.
Many of the theological doctors have felt Paul's pulse to see what was the
matter with him. I suppose that the reason he did not tell us what it was
may have been because he did not want us to know. He knew that if he stated
what it was there would have been a great many people from Corinth
bothering him with prescriptions as to how he might cure it.
Some say it was diseased eyes, some that it was a humped back. It may have
been neuralgia. Perhaps it was gout, although his active habits and a
sparse diet throw doubt on the supposition. Suffice to say it was a
thorn--that is, it stuck him. It was sharp.
It was probably of not much account in the eyes of the world. It was not a
trouble that could be compared to a lion or a boisterous sea. It was like a
thorn that you may have in your hand or foot and no one know it. Thus we
see that it becomes a type of those little nettlesome worries of life that
exasperate the spirit.
Every one has a thorn sticking him. The housekeeper finds it in unfaithful
domestics; or an inmate who keeps things disordered; or a house too small
for convenience or too large to be kept cleanly. The professional man finds
it in perpetual interruptions or calls for "more copy." The Sabbath-school
teacher finds it in inattentive scholars, or neighboring teachers that talk
loud and make a great noise in giving a little instruction.
One man has a rheumatic joint which, when the wind is northeast, lifts the
storm signal. Another a business partner who takes full half the profits,
but does not help earn them. These trials are the more nettlesome because,
like Paul's thorn, they are not to be mentioned. Men get sympathy for
broken bones and mashed feet, but not for the end of sharp thorns that have
been broken off in the fingers.
Let us start out with the idea that we must have annoyances. It seems to
take a certain number of them to keep us humble, wakeful and prayerful. To
Paul the thorn was as disciplinary as the shipwreck. If it is not one
thing, it is another. If the stove does not smoke, the boiler must leak. If
the pen is good, the ink must be poor. If the editorial column be able,
there must be a typographical blunder. If the thorn does not pierce the
knee, it must take you in the back. Life must have sharp things in it. We
cannot make up our robe of Christian character without pins and needles.
We want what Paul got--grace to bear these things. Without it we become
cross, censorious and irascible. We get in the habit of sticking our thorns
into other people's fingers. But God helping us, we place these annoyances
in the category of the "all things that work together for good." We see how
much shorter these thorns are than the spikes that struck through the palms
of Christ's hands; and remembering that he had on his head a whole crown of
thorns, we take to ourselves the consolation that if we suffer with him on
earth we shall be glorified with him in heaven.
But how could Paul positively rejoice in these infirmities? I answer that
the school of Christ has three classes of scholars. In the first class we
learn how to be stuck with thorns without losing our patience. In the
second class we learn how to make the sting positively advantageous. In the
third class of this school we learn how even to rejoice in being pierced
and wounded, but that is the senior class; and when we get to that, we are
near graduation into glory.