ACETAMINOPHEN: You Sure You Want To Take It?

It was the irony I could not escape: You take a pill to dull your pain, and, though it may, it will also dull your joy. Studies have shown that taking acetaminophen for one’s pain will not only blunt it but will also blunt his emotional responses—such as joy. See, acetaminophen lessens one’s pain and lessens his joy simultaneously. Less pain equals less joy. Go figure. This is the irony: Basically, we seek to remove pain from our lives that we might have joy. We see pain as the very enemy and supplanter of joy. Thus, we take acetaminophen to alleviate our pain not realizing it is also diminishing our joy. Perhaps, this is the very reason Jesus while suffering on the cross, refused the acetaminophen offered Him. Okay, it wasn’t exactly acetaminophen but the contemporary equivalent. As He writhed in pain on the cross, He was offered a mild anesthesia of a wine-myrrh mixture to numb His agony. He refused the “acetaminophen” because He did not seek to avoid nor alleviate the pain He felt. He knew the pain of the cross was necessary both to the joy of returning to the Father’s right hand having fully obeyed Him and to the joy of saving a lost people from their sins and eternal punishment. He willingly suffered the unalleviated pain for that joy. Had he removed the cause of pain, the cross, these joys would have not been experienced. Thus, “… Jesus … for the joy that was set before him endured the cross, despising the shame, ….” (Heb 12:2). Jesus also had forewarned His disciples that they would collaterally feel the pain of the cross but encouraged them they would also feel its joy. He used an analogy of a woman giving birth: A woman in labor experiences great pain. But, when her child is birthed, seeing him, she is so filled with joy, the memory of her pain dissipates. Jesus then applied his illustration. “Disciples, I’m leaving. You are going to sorrow at the pain of separation. But I am returning (from cross and grave). And when you see Me again, your hearts will surge and soar with unmitigated joy. (John 16:21-22). Now, if the disciples’ pain had been avoided by Jesus’ not leaving them, their joy would have been averted and denied as well. Thus, Jesus taught the joy of resurrection can only be known following the joy of crucifixion, as the joy of a newborn child can only be known following the pain of labor. There are some joys we will never know without preceding pain. The joy of reunion can only be known following the pain of separation. The joy of victory can only be known following the pain of battle. The joy of forgiveness can only be known following the pain of guilt and shame. The joy of a sunrise can only be known following the pain of a dark, stormy night. I am no masochist. I do not like pain. I hate it. Pain is just so, well, painful. I will avoid meeting it and, run from it if I do. Indubitably, when pain does manage to get ahold of me, I will seek to wrest myself away or squash it. I will jerk my hand away from the hot pan’s handle. I will take medication to seek to alleviate pain whenever I can. Yet, I must acknowledge the conundrum: We labor to eradicate pain from our lives thinking that is the secret to having joy. We seek to exterminate any political, financial, mental, emotional, physical, and relational pain. In all of these areas, we are unsuccessful in completely ridding pain from our lives. Worse, assuaging the pain does not bring joy. At best, it brings tentative relief; it may bring a measure of comfort, but dulls any ebullient joy. As I grow older, I find myself willing to sacrificing joy if it means mitigating pain. I opt for comfort over pain-joy. It is better to have nothing happening than something painful happening. Yet, I must still concede two realities: First, one cannot live without pain. Not in this world. And I’m not just referring to physical pain. There’s emotional pain. Mental pain. Relationship pain. Self-inflicted pain. Pain caused by others. Pain caused by impersonal forces. Second, the acetaminophen of life may mask my pain but will not touch the cause of my pain. Acetaminophen will not even touch the greatest of life’s pain—the non-physical pain—much less remove its cause. Notwithstanding these realities, understandably, we take acetaminophen to dull our pain. We spend our time, efforts, resources, seeking to escape the pain. This past summer I suffered a protracted stretch of the greatest physical pain I’d ever known. I found myself using a word to describe it when asked by doctors and others the level of my pain: “Excruciating.” Before experiencing this pain, I knew what I’m about to share, but it did not hit me until after my pain had finally subsided. Look at the word “excruciating.” Look right in the middle of the word. Look at the root. It’s “-cruci-.” That comes from “crucify.” Crucify comes from “cross.” Our word to describe extreme pain comes from “cross.” But, there is promise in that: As certainly as Jesus’ joyous resurrection followed the painful agony of His cross, by our being united with Him, joy will follow, if not arise, from our pain. I’m not suggesting you NOT take a Tylenol for your headache. But, as you know, it will not touch your HEARTache. Perhaps, you wouldn’t want it to. You might be averting the coming joy. Rather, in the worse of your pain, know Jesus has promised that after the pain of the cross is a coming joy of resurrection. That promise is better than the Acetaminophen.