The Gift that Nobody Wants

I've been thinking a lot about pain (again- see "Art Night and Pain," Part 1 and Part 2). I began reading Where Is God When It Hurts? by Philip Yancey, simply because he is one of my favorite authors.

I haven't finished the book or sorted out all my thoughts yet. But the first part of the book deals with pain from a physiological standpoint, and the idea I've found most fascinating is that without physical pain, most humans are most likely to choose a path of physical self-destruction. As someone with a low pain threshold who hates any kind of physical discomfort whatsoever, I found myself actually feeling grateful for pain.

Yancey writes about Dr. Paul Brand, who worked with those who have Hansen's Disease (leprosy). Contrary to a long-held belief, most leprosy patients do not lose body parts due to a primary effect of the disease; rather, the nerve damage inflicted makes it impossible for its victims to feel any pain. Without pain, they are unable to know when they are engaging in an activity that is damaging their body.

Anyway, Dr. Brand's and Yancey's eventual opinion on pain can be seen in the title of a book they co-authored: Pain: The Gift that Nobody Wants. Pain is part of our body's natural system of defenses; it helps us know when to stop, rest, or change something about what we're doing. When people don't experience pain, they harm themselves. Dr. Brand worked for a time on developing a device for leprosy patients that would alert them when they were harming themselves. However, the first versions were ineffective, because patients were warned by a noise or a blinking light, which was easy to ignore and would lead some to simply turn off the device. The most effective version was one that sent a small painful shock to the armpit, one area that was still sensitive.

What stood out to me is that humans can have a lot of head knowledge that has no effect on behavior. Yancey offered one example of a salesman who had worn his feet away to stumps because he kept wearing dress shoes that were bad for his feet. Most people would have found the pain intolerable and bought new shoes or worn the orthopedic shoes recommended by their physician. Since this patient could not experience pain, his desire to look nice for his job and avoid any suspicion of his disease outweighed the damage he was doing his feet.

At first I felt astounded that someone could see such severe damage, yet choose to continue the behavior that led to it. Yet how many times have I done similar things? As a mild example, I know that drinking an entire soda at once gives me a sugar crash, yet I'll still drink entire sodas occasionally. It seems like unless pain is immediate and fierce, our cravings and psychological needs overpower our head knowledge about good, bad, and destruction.

I need to note that Yancey does go on to address the bad side of pain in our fallen world. Cancer's pain may alert its victim to its presence, but the pain doesn't stop once the patient knows what is going on. And in that case, the treatments curing the disease may bring as much pain as the disease itself. So no one is going to read about Dr. Brand and say "Hooray for pain, in every way!" And what do we do when pain, physical or psychological, is inflicted unjustly as a result of someone else's sin, or even just a simple mistake?

Yet I think it is fascinating to begin thinking about pain with the idea that for most people with bodies that are functioning well, pain is actually a gift, like a gate that keeps us from driving off the cliff when we really wanted to go down that road.