I felt like following up yesterday with a bit of clarification.

I believe pain is good and is more like sonar than a lighthouse. The problem is most of us receive pain like a lighthouse. We stay as far away as possible, believing our ship will crash on the rocks. Using the example of my the pain in my legs when I run, the lighthouse says stop running and the pain will go away. The fuggin’ worst part of the lighthouse response to pain is it is true. If I stop running, the pain will subside. And if I abandon running altogether, I’ll never feel the stain and aches again. Right? Imagine having that conversation with God. Problem solved, sir. Ready to die before my time because I refused to push through the physical pain or embarrassment of running. You could’ve given me super human lungs and massaged my legs while I slept. So really, this is your fault.

Good thing there’s a better way. To understand pain as sonar, as a guide through the depths of life, that is next level. Sonar says, yep, your fat legs are strained, but your oxygen levels are good and the pain isn’t increasing. This is normal for a man of his size and age. Keep pace. We will push through. Of course, most of life’s pain forms within relationships, of held offenses and struggles for control or recognition. And in these moments, lighthouse says run and hide! Hold them in your debt and never forget. Most of us do this. I’ve done this. And I can tell you engaging bitterness and turning to self-preservation is a sure path to becoming an asshole. Again, the sonar response offers hope. She says whoa! That didn’t work. But, it’s ok. Let’s look over here, try something new.

Not sure why I chose these metaphors to explain my thoughts on how I respond to pain. I think it comes down to a fear response or a love response. Fear screams there isn’t enough, you must look out for yourself. But love, even in pain, never give ups. It’s patient and kind and honest. And most of all, Love is committed to us.