Pain Is a Great Teacher

"Pain Is a Great Teacher" was one of the "great thoughts" I posted on my classroom door when I was teaching high school.
It sparked some interesting discussions.

But now I whine, like my students sometimes did, that I can't accomplish things because of pain. Physical that is. As opposed to the psychic or emotional or "what a pain!" type.
I get so frustrated when I have to stop, lie down and ice up for a couple of hours before I can finish something important and time sensitive.
Pain seems so useless when nothing can be done about it. And it gets in the way of achieving anything really worthwhile!

Then I heard the word "achievement" used to describe Christ's Atonement.
It said that the Atonement wasn't just the greatest act of selfless love ever known to mankind, but also the greatest achievement.
The greatest accomplishment.
I stopped whining for a minute to think about that.

More than the building of the Golden Gate Bridge, or sending men to the moon, or discovering penicillin. Or inventing the telephone or digging the Panama Canal. Or anything else mankind has ever been able to do.

Christ's Atonement.
The most magnificent, epic achievement ever. The greatest accomplishment in history.

Completed while suffering unimaginable pain.

Remember that the Atonement was made when the one accomplishing it was in pain so great it caused drops of blood to seep from every pore.
Then the task was finished while nailed to a cross.
There might be a message here.

Then again, I sometimes get discouraged because of the insignificance of what I can do?
In the past I used to be able to contribute more. Not much compared to others maybe, but more.
Why even make the monumental effort it takes these days for such puny results?
These days I find myself in the lines of my favorite Tennyson poem,
   
      "Though we are not now that strength
       which in days of old, moved earth and
       heaven.
       What we are, we are."

Not strength for moving earth and heaven for sure. Filling a few flower pots is about all the earth moving I can manage.
But since "I are what I are," maybe I should move whatever I still can.
After all, my little spot on earth is more beautiful if I plant those sweet peas and mums.
And that's one.

And here's a comforting thought that just wandered across my feeble brain.

Compared to Father, all human feats are tiny anyway.
Next to what He can do, all of mankind's efforts combined pale in comparison.
All those bridge buiders, disease cure finders, rocket senders, peacemakers, presidents and kings, as great as they may be, can't begin to compare to what Father has achieved.

Even the greatest man's greatest efforts.

So perhaps the key isn't "what" you've accomplished. "What" may not be important at all.
Perhaps the important thing is that you keep on accomplishing what you can.
That might be a principle of enduring.

Maybe Father won't ask us, "Did you contribute something astounding?
Maybe He won't say, "Let me see a list of the diseases you cured, or the countries you ruled."
Maybe instead He'll ask each of us, "Did you contribute what you could?  Right to the end.  Even when it hurt."
Maybe especially when it hurt.

All of this pondering leads me back to ponder on Father's hand in the stages of human life.
I know there's a purpose in each.

But I've never really understood why so many human beings grow frail with age. Because almost everybody who lives long enough will eventually become frail.
That seems backwards and counterproductive to me.

Here we have a growing army of people who've learned to do so many useful things. Brimming with experience and know-how.
But with backs and knees that keep them from climbing ladders to fix the world's leaky roofs, metaphorically speaking.
And with so many leaks in this world the rain's pouring in on everybody's heads!

Shouldn't old people get up there to help? With all that wisdom what a force we could be!
Shouldn't humans get physically stronger with age? Wouldn't that make more sense?

Yes, I've had a hard time figuring out the purpose of age related disability.
I'd like to talk to somebody about that living a long and useful life and then "being called back in a twinkling of an eye."  Isn't that how things will work during the millenium?
Seems like a better idea to me.

But then, after a longer ponder, perhaps one reason so many of us finish up life as old people is because "old," and all that goes with it, is a great test of faith.
I can testify of that.
Yes, perhaps old age is the widow's mite principle all over again.
Applied to our whole life's work this time.
Because time leaves so many of us with only mites to give.

Do we understand Father well enough to know how important it is to give them?

On those last days of this short lifetime, with all the indignities of age, were we making some kind of effort to do something, anything, even the smallest thing, good?
Did we try to improve ourselves and demonstrate love to the last?

Maybe that last mite we are able to give will be the most important one of all.

Maybe that's part of what it means to endure to the end.
I'm thinking about that.
You think about it too. Let me know what you found out.