Afflictions

1

THE EYES HAVE IT

So to keep me from becoming conceited because of the surpassing greatness of the revelations, a thorn was given me in the flesh, a messenger of Satan to harass me, to keep me from becoming conceited. Three times I pleaded with the Lord about this, that it should leave me. But he said to me, “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.” Therefore I will boast all the more gladly of my weaknesses, so that the power of Christ may rest upon me. For the sake of Christ, then, I am content with weaknesses, insults, hardships, persecutions, and calamities. For when I am weak, then I am strong. 2 Corinthians 12: 7-10 (ESV)

Paul never told what his thorn in the flesh was. Some believe he had poor eyesight because of statements such as, "See what large letters I use as I write to you with my own hand!"(Galatians 6:11) If Paul couldn't see well, I can feel for him.

My eyesight began to blur when I was in grade school, but no one caught it, not even me. I knew I had trouble reading the blackboard, but thought this perfectly normal. I had nothing to compare my vision with that would tell me it wasn't right. 

It didn't help that teachers had two ways of seating. One was by height, shortest up front, tallest in back. Since I was above average in height, I was often in the rear row. The other method helped some, which was assigned by name alphabetically. My name came right in the middle of the pack, so I would be in the middle of the class. It still wasn't close enough, in fact, I still often ended up at the back of a row. (It is well my friend Ron [Retired in Delaware] had good eyesight. His name began with T and he was taller than I was, perhaps the tallest in the room. He could never escape the back row.)

In Junior High they tested our eyes and I flunked. I had to wear glasses. For some reason, there were few who wore glasses back then. I don't know if people just had healthier eyes in the past or more people walked around dimly than would admit. It was probably the latter. At any rate, wearing glasses brought a degree of ridicule along with better vision. I took a lot of guff from other kids anyway and this didn't help. On day one of wearing spectacles came the catcalls of "four-eyes".

There were other negatives. No longer would school photos show me full-face. Like this first

picture taken of me in glasses, the head was always sideways and tilted. This was to keep the glasses from reflecting the photographer's lights. 

Glasses also had magical powers. Once I slipped them on, I automatically became a scholar and a genius. Suddenly, everyone though I must be smart. But being considered smart in Junior High School didn't win me any points either. It just added more adjectives to what they called me, "Hey, you four-eyed egghead".

You can make that, "Hey you ugly, four-eyed egghead".  Glasses were related to the proverbial ugly-stick, one touch of the earpieces and instant unattractiveness. I find it ironic those who would not be caught dead in glasses; even if they are suffering concussions from collisions with telephone poles, think they look cool wearing sunglasses all the time. (Another reason they could be colliding with those telephone poles especially when they wear them after dark.)

Adulthood removed much of the teasing, but not the blurriness of life. In fact, age tends to increase the problem and the thickness of the lenses. My wife, who began wearing peepers even before I did, switched to contact lens as soon as they were available. I wore those for a while, but was never comfortable and soon went back to spectacles.

If you met me now or saw recent photos, you would not see glasses, but I still don't wear contacts. This is another irony of further eyesight disasters, which we will touch on later.

2

WHEN THYROIDS ATTACK

Who has woe? Who has sorrow? Who has strife? Who has complaints? Who has wounds without cause?
Who has redness of eyes? Proverbs 23:29

I was the “who“ a decade and a half ago. But my woes were not the result of wine when it is “red nor strong drink”, although it may have appeared this was the problem to some. And part of the cure for my problems was turning me into a monster with even more effectiveness than alcohol might.  Let me explain.

My transformation did not begin beneath some full moon like the Wolfman. It began on a bright summer day in a swimming pool. We had a community swim club with a beautiful pool. I would walk down the couple of blocks and go for a swim at the end of each workday or take the kids over on the weekends.

One of these times I was paddling across the pool about waist deep when I was seized by a muscle cramp. I am sure we have all suffered such cramps at times. Usually they strike the legs or feet and are very painful. This one was around my ribcage. I had never had a muscle cramp there before and I don't recommend you try this at home, let alone in the middle of a swimming pool. 

I struggled over to the side and pulled myself out while stifling my impulse to scream like a stuck pig. I didn't want to draw any embarrassing attention to myself. I am shy enough to probably prefer drowning to public humiliation.

I lay awhile on the concrete deck and it finally went away. I chalked it up to the shock of the cold water, but soon after that I began to experience muscle cramps on a more regular basis, and they were coming all over my body. It could be an arm or my back, even my neck.

Then one day I walked out my office door at work, took a few steps down the hallway and walked right into the wall. I started finding walking a straight line took concentration. 

We had various health screenings at work given by the Visiting Nurses Association. I went to a

blood pressure screening and as the cuff tightened about my arm, the color drained from the Nurse's face. She seemed about to panic. She mustered her strength and told me to get to a doctor post haste, my blood pressure was stratospheric, my heart beat was slug slow and my skin was clammy.

The doctor, as doctor's do, sent me off for blood work, a whole alphabet soup of tests. I went to a Lab, had the tests and went on with my crooked-walking, cramp-filled life. A few days later, the phone rang. "Come to my office right now," said my doctor, "I have your blood work and I can't make heads or tails of the results." 

Well, that certainly instilled confidence.

He handed me the results as if those ranges and letters meant anything to me. "See this," he said, "it is too high. But this one here is too low. That doesn't make sense. If that one is too high, then this one should be too. And this one here..." and so it went. And in the end what all this confusion meant was a lot more tests. Oh, I had scans and thumpings and x-rays. I was shuttled from specialist pillar to specialist post until one day I found myself with a nephrologist. 

A nephrologist is a specialist in kidney disease. This scared me. I did not want kidney disease. I did not have kidney disease. The nephrologist looked me in the eye and said, "You have hypothyroidism." In other words, I had a slacker for a thyroid, that gland was laying down on the job and not squirting enough hormone into my system. This lazy loafer was allowing me to feel hot all the time, gain weight easily, get muscle cramps and walk into large objects. The doctor was going to fix his slothful habits. My cure was simple, take this little tiny pill once a day and all would work as it should.

And it did.

Until a year later I noticed my eyes felt as if I sand in them and they really hurt when I was in bright light. I was driving to work holding my hand over my face peeking through my fingers with one squinting eye. At night, when I watched TV, I saw two talking heads when there was only one and four when there were two. I was seeing double. 

"Your eyes are fine," the eye doctor said. "Double vision can indicate other problems, go see your physician."

Which I did and after more probings and proddings found myself with an endocrinologist or in layman speak, a gland doctor. He told me how unusual I was. First, thyroid problems were less in men than women. Second, I now had hyperthyroidism. It had flipped from being hypo to being hyper, a rare feat indeed. He said he generally only saw one such case a year. I was it for that year. 

You'd think with that kind of luck I could win the Lottery.

Along with the hyperthyroidism, I had Graves Disease. In simple terms, this meant the muscles were trying to push my eyeballs out of the sockets. That was why I felt I had sand in my eyes. I couldn't close my lids completely when I slept; all the moisture had dried up. 

I was a mess for a while. The thyroidism had sapped my strength. I could barely stand. Walking up and down steps was difficult. I had to take off from work because between the effects of the thyroid and the Graves, I couldn't work. I couldn't even watch TV my eyes had become so sensitive to light. All I could do was curl up on the sofa with a blanket over my head to shut out any beam or flicker. I would lie there and listen to talk radio, losing all track of time and about half my mind.

They finally gave me radioactive iodine to drink and killed that rebellious thyroid, but the Graves proved stubborn. So I was put on steroids. This was nasty stuff. It changed my personality. I became Sid Vicious. I would get angry at rude drivers and chase cars across parking lots like a crazed dog. On top of that, my throat began to swell up. With my popping eyes and swelling throat, I was turning into a frog. If you look closely at the pictures you can see my lower face beneath the mask is bloated.

One day I couldn't take the isolation anymore. I decided to go for a drive. I had an old Chevette then, but the gas gauge was broken. So of course I ran out of gas. I had to walk about a mile to a main street and look for a gas station. But first I had to find a store and buy a can to carry the fuel. I found such a container and then went into a gas station run by a couple of ladies and paid for gas.  I went out

and squatted to fill the can, but my weaken muscles gave way and I fell over. Oh fine, I thought, those ladies are going to call the cops. "There is a drunk here filling a container with gas, he is probably

planning to burn down the high school or something. He was scary looking, like a giant frog!"

Somehow I managed to get back to and start my car and make it home. No more excursions alone for the frog-man.

I was recovering some from the effects of the thyroid now and able to return to work, but my Graves Disease refused to leave my eyes alone. It was decided I couldn't stay on steroids any longer either and that I would need radiation treatments to allow my eyes to return back into their proper place. 

Now I visited a doctor at the hospital, a man with a heavy German accent who assured me the procedure was perfectly safe.  "There is naught to worry about," he told me. "Ah, it could cause skin cancer. But we can cure skin cancer, so nothing to be concerned about.  Oh, it could cause cataracts. But we can remove cataracts. So, see, nothing to fear."

I was sent to a technician, who measured me and then painted this orange grid across my face. "You must keep this grid on for the next two weeks. Don't shower or wash your face." Nice. I had an ACES meeting that night.

ACES is a program for school teachers. It was an acronym standing for American Corporate Enterprise System or something like that. Teachers could take it for continuing education credits. It was an eight-week course where the teachers visited various corporations and learned how they operated. I was one of the spokes people for our trust company and now I was going to give a serious presentation disguised as that banking superhero, Orange Grid Face.

I survived that humiliation to go to the radiation treatments. Now I lay on a flat examination table with a strange machine out of Star Wars pointed toward my face with three technicians huddled about telling me whatever I do, don't move. Then they assured me once more this was perfectly safe, just before they all ran from the room and hid behind a lead shield.

Two weeks of this and my eyes retreated. Now I almost look normal. My face deflated and my eyes no longer popped. My one eye still protrudes more than the other and I am still oversensitive to light. I have to wear a baseball cap to see when I am outside during the day or in rooms with overhead lighting. Sunglasses don't do the trick for light just goes over the top of the lens. I just need a dark brim over my face.

Other than that and my pill a day of thyroid hormone, I am almost as normal as anyone. It's just my other affliction, which sets me apart now.

(The photos are of me as the Phantom of the Opera one Halloween when I still worked at the trust company.)

3

Speed Skin and Sexual Stupidity

"If the disease breaks out all over his skin and, so far as the priest can see, it covers all the skin

of the infected person from head to foot, the priest is to examine him, and if the disease has covered his whole body, he shall pronounce that person clean. Since it has all turned white, he is clean. But whenever raw flesh appears on him, he will be unclean. When the priest sees the raw flesh, he shall pronounce him unclean. The raw flesh is unclean; he has an infectious disease. Should the raw flesh change and turn white, he must go to the priest. The priest is to examine him, and if the sores have turned white, the priest shall pronounce the infected person clean; then he will be clean. Leviticus 13:12-17 (NIV)

When I was in tenth grade, we had Health. Boys and girls were taught in different classes, because in tenth grade health we were told about s.e.x.

Our gym teacher, who was an ex-Marine Drill Sergeant, taught Boy's Health. He tended to get your attention by instilling a bit of fear. I still remember some of what he said about sex.

"Don't you ever let me catch you getting a girl in trouble. You ever feel that temptation, go out behind the barn and take care of it yourself," he barked in one class. I admit, I was so naive on all things sexual I had little idea what he was talking about. 
(Remember, this was over fifty-five years ago, long before the Internet. Such things weren't so talked about.) I knew I wasn't going to get any girl in trouble though, not if he might catch me.

He also scared most of us guys out of impure thoughts with his vividly graphic descriptions of the horrors caused by Social Diseases, what they call STDs today. We sure didn't want any of those Social Diseases.

One hot day in early summer I was sitting on a hammock with the sister of a friend. We were in bathing suits and rocking back and forth.  This unbalanced the contraption, which promptly deposited us on the ground. The girl landed bottom-side first on my head, shattering one lens of my glasses. I pushed her aside and leaped up fearful of glass in my eye. Then she said, "what's that rash under your arm?"

Rash? What rash?  I contoured my skinny bony body about to see and sure enough there was an odd ring of red encircling my armpit. 

Oh, I was frightened. I didn't tell anyone, didn't want anyone else to see or find out. I lay awake at night fretful and ashamed. I was certain I had a Social Disease.

How such a thing could be never crossed my mind. I had never had sex with anyone, barely had kissed girls and wasn't even dating yet. And if I had done anything, what kind of weird practice was it to infect my underarm?

Then one weekend I was staying at my grandparents and my grand pop noticed a reddish spot on my forearm. He took me to a dermatologist and that's when I learned I had "the heartbreak of psoriasis". 

I had the spot on my forearm, some in my one armpit, but most was on my scalp, which caused a flutter of flaking anytime I scratched my head, but it was no big deal. He prescribed some ointment and a special shampoo. They tended to work, although they carried with them a distinct odor of telephone poles. Let's call this perfume Eau de Creosote.

Psoriasis isn't contagious. It is a speeding up of the skin's normal growth cycle. Skin cells grow out, older ones die and new cells replace those. For most people it is an invisible process of life. But for some this process goes seven times faster than it should and instead of being invisible, it is like watching a stop-action film where you see the rising and the setting of the sun all in a brief few frames.

You see it begin with white scaly patches on the skin. These flake off if rubbed or scratched. 

Eventually all the scale falls away and a red splotch remains. It has flare-ups and recessions. Flare-ups often come during the winter, because psoriasis likes dark, hidden places. It is like a vampire. Sunlight kills it, so it generally lessens in the summer because you cover up less. 

There are periods when it is itchy, other periods when it isn't. The literature will say it isn't painful, but this isn't completely true. During cold it burns, much the same as a sunburn does. It can be very uncomfortable during the winter.

But given all that, it didn't seem very serious. The ointment did fade away the splotch reasonably well. Of course, another splotch would appear elsewhere, so you never quite chased it down completely, still these spots were hidden by clothes. Generally the worst was on my elbows or kneecaps. 

It wasn't something that weighted on my conscious mind at all...for a while.

4

Speed Skin and Shedding Shyness and Death

 "When a man or woman has white spots on the skin, the priest is to examine them, and if the spots are dull white, it is a harmless rash that has broken out on the skin; that person is clean.

 "When a man has lost his hair and is bald, he is clean. If he has lost his hair from the front of his scalp and has a bald forehead, he is clean. But if he has a reddish-white sore on his baldhead or forehead, it is an infectious disease breaking out on his head or forehead. The priest is to examine him, and if the swollen sore on his head or forehead is reddish-white like an infectious skin disease, the man is diseased and is unclean. The priest shall pronounce him unclean because of the sore on his head.

 "The person with such an infectious disease must wear torn clothes, let his hair be unkempt, cover the lower part of his face and cry out, 'Unclean! Unclean!' As long as he has the infection he remains unclean. He must live alone; he must live outside the camp. Leviticus 13:38-46 (NIV)

The Lord knows every hair on your head. The last few years I have made the job easier for Him.  I believe my receding hairline (more of a full retreat, actually) is genetic supercharged by my hyperthyroidism. Nonetheless, it hardly matters since I am forced to wear a cap most times due to the light-sensitivity caused by the Graves Disease. See, things have a way of balancing out.

Of course, since psoriasis does like to cozy down under a full head of hair and hide, this did expose some spots upon my dome. This would be a minor blemish normally easily dealt with, unless the psoriasis was on overdrive.  A few decades ago mine hit overdrive.

This first occurred in the early eighties. Well, one of the triggers for psoriasis is stress and if you read my 2008 postings about the problems we faced between 1978 and 1982 (job loss, newborn in intensive care, death of my father-in-law, destruction of our house) you'll understand I had some stress. Around that period the scales and redness ceased being a blotch here or there and spread up and down my body. It went over the arms and down my legs, up my back, across my chest. I was ready to sell postcards as the alligator-skinned man. Instead, I went to a dermatologist.

We chatted a bit and then he asked me to remove my shirt. One look and his eyes lit up. He began talking about a new experimental treatment he wanted to try on me. First, he wanted to get some pictures. I was sent into another room and instructed to strip naked. He then came in with a camera and snapped me from every direction. I was always a shy person. This was uncomfortable. As he took the photos, he explained more about the procedure. I heard it involved injections (uh, I'm not big on needles) and when he got to the part about possible liver damage requiring a liver biopsy every few months, I declined, dressed and departed. Ain't nobody, no time, no how, gonna stick a long sliver of metal through my chest into my liver!

Besides, I could see he was already planning his book on his cure, with my naked body, before and after, as the centerfold.

Psoriasis isn't contagious or threatening (usually). I had lived with it nearly my whole life and wasn't self-conscious about it. It was hidden beneath my clothing. Even when exposed in short sleeve shirts or bathing suits at the beach, only a few ever asked, and most were children, and those who did ask mistook it for poison ivy.

I only had one silly incidence. I was in Miami on business and at one point as I walked to the elevator bank of the hotel there was a man waiting for the lift. He saw my arms and began running backward down the corridor screaming, "what'd'ya have? What'd'ya have?" I felt like pursuing him saying, " Aye, matey, I have the pox! And, aargh, it's contagious!"

A few years went by and this "pox" began to appear on the back of my hands. It had never happened on an exposed area before and now not long after, it started on my face, which was not exactly welcomed by me. I was in a position where I dealt with many people, not just throughout the bank where I worked, but vendors and corporate customers. I sometimes did presentations, speeches and training. Time to try another dermatologist.

This one wasn't into taking any pictures, but it was here I began shedding any shyness about my body. It wasn't just undressing for the doctor to examine my ravaged skin. Remember in my last post I mentioned psoriasis is a vampire. It has an aversion to sunlight. My treatment was the lightbox. Like a vampire exposed to dawn this should make the psoriasis shrivel away.

The name is a literal description of the device. It was a square box with a door, kind of a walk in closet. I would undress in one room, totally, absolutely naked, then trot into another and enter the box. A technician, always a young female, would shut the door behind me, ask if I was ready, did I have my protective glasses on,  and then turn the timer and throw the switch. The inside of the box was lined on all sides with vertical lights (think fluorescent tubes).  In the center of this box was a low stool. I had to stand on this stool for up to 25 minutes. There was a small window in the door so the technician could check on you. When I stood on this stool my...ah...more personal parts lined up perfectly with that little window.

As the time was set longer, I would play games in my head to pass the time.  I would also turn every so often on the stool, face the front, then turn to the left wall, to the back wall, to the right, to the front again. It wasn't necessary, the lights surrounded me, but somehow it helped pass the time until the technician came to stick in the fork and say I was done.

I had to go three times a week for this treatment. There were several different technicians who escorted me to the box and every one was a young female. 

But I abruptly ceased treatment. It was not the forced exposure. Believe me, under such circumstances you begin to shed your shyness. It was the first bill from the Doctor. After only a couple of weeks it was $700 dollars and this treatment was supposed to go on for months. At the time no insurance covered psoriasis treatments. It was categorized as cosmetic, not as a cure. I couldn't afford this.

They had just begun opening tanning salons in the malls at that time. I registered at one near my home. It seemed the same as the lightbox, but the charge was only $10 a session, plus you lay in a tanning bed (like a giant waffle iron), with piped in music. There was no standing on a stool, no young lady peeking in a window and no big bill.

The psoriasis did recede under this assault and when summer came I even ceased the tanning salon. I could be out in the real sun often enough now to control it. I got the briefest bathing suits I could buy to wear in the back yard or at the beach. All former shyness about my body was gone. My goal was to keep those scales and splotches from returning. And for a few years I was successful.

But then it returned, and with a vengeance. It not only rapidly reclaimed all the old territory; it began to thicken up as well. Everything felt tight when I moved. The skin would crack and bleed. Turning doorknobs became a painful exercise. It was time for another dermatologist.

In the time that had passed, the health insurance industry had come to recognize "the heartbreak of psoriasis" wasn't a joke. Serious psoriasis brought serious problems for the sufferers. They would now make payments for treatment. This new dermatologist put me back into a lightbox program. His lightbox was different. It looked like something out of Star Trek, like that transporter capsule. It was silver with a bunch of gadgets on the side. There was no stool needed. And it was faster. No more 25 minutes to cook, you were microwaved in five to ten. There was still a little window and this dermatologist's technicians were all young women, too. (What is this, a career choice for young female voyeurs?)

It was good I had returned and got the treatment. My psoriasis had mutated to a more dangerous form. My skin was hardening to a point in wouldn't be able to breath or sweat. I was close to a point where hospitalization could have been called for, even to a point where death could have been a possibility.

Psoriasis has been the butt of comedy, ever since that first "heartbreak of psoriasis" ad was used. For many it is a minor blemish easily treated. For some it is more serious and as happed with me, can be life threatening. There are those who have and had worse disfigurements of the disease than I. Go on Google and Google Psoriasis images. I couldn't find any that weren't too ugly to use with this post. I choose to use pictures of my own at various times on my face, back, legs and hand. 


Again, as bad as I have this, it can be much, much worse, as a look at the photos of suffers on Google can attest, although those photos are not for the squeamish. Viewer discretion is advised before going there.

It isn't curable. It can be controlled. There are treatments today, which people tell me are pretty effective. These tend to involve injections and all seem to pose some threat to the liver. I choose not to take chances with an organ you can't do without. Beside the lightboxes, the treatments tend to be very inconvenient and intrusive on one's daily living. During the times I was going to these dermatologists and being in those lightboxes, I also had various ointments I had to apply several times a day. There was one ointment for the face, because the skin is thinner, another for the body, another for the scalp. I was to take a bath three times a day, put on a moisturizing lotion after and sit for twenty minutes before dressing. This was not easy with the type of job I had and the hours I put in. I could bathe before going to work and again afterward. As it was, my assistant gave me a key to her apartment, which was near my office, and I would go and bathe there at lunchtime. This is not a good situation and it did give rise to rumors. 

Kermit may say it isn't easy being green. It isn't easy being white and red polka-dotted either.

5

Why I Have Written About My Afflictions

 If you are wearing this shirt, you are in need of a new wardrobe.

Then Jesus was led up by the Spirit into the wilderness to be tempted by the devil. And after fasting forty days and forty nights, he was hungry. And the tempter came and said to him, “If you are the Son of God, command these stones to become loaves of bread.” But he answered, “It is written,

“‘Man shall not live by bread alone, but by every word that comes from the mouth of God.’”

Then the devil took him to the holy city and set him on the pinnacle of the temple and said to him, “If you are the Son of God, throw yourself down, for it is written,

“‘He will command his angels concerning you,’

and “‘On their hands they will bear you up, lest you strike your foot against a stone.’”

Jesus said to him, “Again it is written, ‘You shall not put the Lord your God to the test.’”

Again, the devil took him to a very high mountain and showed him all the kingdoms of the world and their glory. And he said to him, “All these I will give you, if you will fall down and worship me.”

Then Jesus said to him, “Be gone, Satan! For it is written,

“‘You shall worship the Lord your God and him only shall you serve.’”

Then the devil left him, and behold, angels came and were ministering to him. Matthew 4:1-11 9 (ESV)

Why write about afflictions? Is it to garner sympathy? Hardly. Any one reading these essays could do the same. Some have suffered more and worse afflictions than I have; some have suffered less. Exactly the point, in this world we have all had afflictions; everyone you meet has suffered something. 

There are several reasons sufferings come upon us. (See my essays on "Seven Sufferings" in Seriousiness for examples.) There are those who turn away from a belief in God because they blame him for the suffering they have or see. But suffering doesn't happen in God's Kingdom, it happens in the Earthly Kingdom, and who is the ruler of the world? Lucifer, known as Satan, the Devil is the king of this world and he revels in suffering. Why? Because he wants to derail God's plan and he knows whom we'll blame when we have afflictions.

Ever notice how more often than not when people do harm they say, "The Devil made me do it", but when people suffer harm they'll cry, "God, how could you do this to me?"  Ya gotta know Satan loves that!

You don't think Satan is the world's ruler? I do. I believe we have many scriptures telling us this.

As for you, you were dead in your transgressions and sins, in which you used to live when you followed the ways of this world and of the ruler of the kingdom of the air, the spirit who is now at work in those who are disobedient. All of us also lived among them at one time, gratifying the cravings of our sinful nature and following its desires and thoughts. Like the rest, we were by nature objects of wrath. Ephesians 2:1-3

We know that we are children of God, and that the whole world is under the control of the evil one. We know also that the Son of God has come and has given us understanding, so that we may know him who is true. And we are in him who is true—even in his Son Jesus Christ. He is the true God and eternal life.  1 John 6:18-20

After Jesus was baptized, he went out into the desert for forty days and fasted.  We can call it self-inflicted, but it brought about afflictions anyway. Many of our own afflictions are self-inflicted, too. Not all of what we suffer comes from our own sin, but all afflictions in this world are the result of sin in this world. So at some point of this desert fast, Jesus would have been suffering physically. If you have ever went for any period of time without eating, you know you feel hunger and weakness. And in this state Satan came to him with temptations.

There are two reasons. First, Jesus (who is God) had to experience temptation just as we do in order to be Jesus (who is human). Second, Satan knew if Jesus gave in to temptation, it would cause him to be disobedient to the will of the Father (who is God) and that would be a sin. If Jesus (who is God in human flesh) were to sin even once, he could not be the unblemished lamb needed for the sacrifice that would pay for everyone else's sins.

Notice the subtly (the nuance if you would) of how the Devil tempts. First he told Jesus to turn the stones to bread and eat an odd thing to say. Why didn't Satan turn the stones to bread and wave the baked aroma beneath the nose of the hungry man? Satan is very powerful, but there are limits to his power. The hungry man was also God, and there are no limits on God's power. Satan knew full well Jesus could produce all the food he needed if he just stretched out his hand and commanded it. Jesus didn't deny this fact. He said, "It is written: 'Man does not live on bread alone, but on every word that comes from the mouth of God.'" He quoted scripture (Deuteronomy 8:3) and didn't give in to the tempting.

So the Devil tried a new tact. Satan took Jesus to the top of the highest temple in Jerusalem. Just stop and think about this for a moment if you doubt Satan has greater power than you do. He took Jesus to the highest point in Jerusalem. Do you think they walked there and climbed up the building? When they got there, like in an instant, Satan asked a question. "If you are the Son of God, throw yourself down." Satan is great at asking these kinds of questions. How did he tempt Eve? He asked questions. Here he asks Jesus the same question the Pharisees and Sadducees were always asking. "Will you show us a sign?" It was the same question asked when Jesus hung on the cross, "If you are the Son of God, come down off that tree?"

Then Satan has the audacity to quote scripture, Psalm 91:11-12 " 'He will command his angels concerning you, and they will lift you up in their hands, so that you will not strike your foot against a stone.'" But Satan, just as when he was the Serpent in the Garden of Eden, takes this a bit out of context. Read Psalm 91 and see how it is God's assurance of his presence when we face the afflictions of this world.

But Satan also knows that God could command the Angels to swoop down and gather up Jesus if he jumped. Jesus knows this as well. Satan is good at trick questions, too. Look at how he phrased things before God concerning Job. If Jesus would have jumped and Angels weren't commanded to catch him, he could have been killed by the fall and God's Salvation Plan would have been impossible. If he jumped and the Angels grabbed him and he lived, he would have sinned and the plan would have been impossible anyway.  Jesus answered with scripture,  "It is also written: 'Do not put the Lord your God to the test.'" (Deuteronomy 6:16)

Satan is also persistent. Now he takes Jesus to a very high mountain. (Again, do you think they walked to this mountain, hired some Sherpas, rented some pickaxes and began climbing?) Satan showed Jesus all the kingdoms of the world and said: "All this I will give you, if you will bow down and worship me?" 

Could Satan make that promise? Yes, otherwise it would have been just a silly bluster and there would be no temptation. It'd be as much of a temptation as if someone said to me, "Add my Blog to your Following List and your psoriasis will clear up immediately." 

Note Satan didn't say I will give you the world. He said he would give him "the kingdoms of the world and their splendor."  The world belongs to God and God is in control. But Satan has rule over the superficialities of this world. This was given to him when man sinned. Man could have been the ruler of the world, but God took that away. Satan was the king of the political world, but there is a greater Kingdom where he has no rule. Jesus made this distinction in these kingdoms himself.

Pilate then went back inside the palace, summoned Jesus and asked him, "Are you the king of the Jews?"

"Is that your own idea," Jesus asked, "or did others talk to you about me?"

Am I a Jew?" Pilate replied. "It was your people and your chief priests who handed you over to me. What is it you have done?"

Jesus said, "My kingdom is not of this world. If it were, my servants would fight to prevent my arrest by the Jews. But now my kingdom is from another place."

"You are a king, then!" said Pilate. 

Jesus answered, "You are right in saying I am a king. In fact, for this reason I was born, and for this I came into the world, to testify to the truth. Everyone on the side of truth listens to me." John 18:33-37 (NIV)

Jesus doesn't laugh at Satan's boast, doesn't deny it as fact. (At another time he asks what good is it to gain the world and lose your soul, but not here.) Jesus addresses Satan's demand to be worshiped with more scripture, "Worship your God, and serve him only." (Deuteronomy 6:13 and note all Jesus' replies were taken right from the Law. If Jesus has acceded to any, he would have broken the Law and that is sin.)

Jesus also said, "Away from me Satan!" Then the Devil left him. How come? Because as powerful as Satan is, even he knows his limits and who's really boss. 

Satan will not always have rule. Nor will he always be able to bring suffering. 

On the day the LORD gives you relief from suffering and turmoil and cruel bondage, you will take up this taunt against the king of Babylon: 
How the oppressor has come to an end! 
How his fury has ended! The LORD has broken the rod of the wicked, the scepter of the rulers, which in anger struck down peoples with unceasing blows, and in fury subdued nations with relentless aggression. All the lands are at rest and at peace; 
they break into singing. Even the pine trees and the cedars of Lebanon exult over you and say, "Now that you have been laid low, no woodsman comes to cut us down. The grave below is all astir. They will all respond, they will say to you, 
"You also have become weak, as we are; you have become like us. All your pomp has been brought down to the grave, along with the noise of your harps; maggots are spread out beneath you and worms cover you.

How you have fallen from heaven, O morning star, son of the dawn!  You have been cast down to the earth, 
you who once laid low the nations. You said in your heart, 
"I will ascend to heaven; 
I will raise my throne 
above the stars of God; I will sit enthroned on the mount of assembly, on the utmost heights of the sacred mountain. I will ascend above the tops of the clouds; I will make myself like the Most High." But you are brought down to the grave, to the depths of the pit. Isaiah 14:3-15

There is a day when God's Kingdom will prevail over the worldly kingdom. Jesus will be King over all and Satan will be cast to Hell. The corrupted earth with all its afflictions, sufferings and sin will be destroyed and a new Heaven and Earth will be created where Satan will have no reign.

The seventh angel sounded his trumpet, and there were loud voices in heaven, which said: "The kingdom of the world has become the kingdom of our Lord and of his Christ, and he will reign for ever and ever." And the twenty-four elders, who were seated on their thrones before God, fell on their faces and worshiped God, saying: "We give thanks to you, Lord God Almighty, the One who is and who was, because you have taken your great power and have begun to reign.

 The nations were angry; and your wrath has come. The time has come for judging the dead, and for rewarding your servants the prophets and your saints and those who reverence your name, both small and great—and for destroying those who destroy the earth." Revelation 11:15-18 (NIV)

In the meantime, we must live in this world with its afflictions. So, I look at most of my afflictions and laugh. You have to admit, opening a door in expectation of a freshly painted room, but finding the ceiling on the floor and water pouring down all the walls is a funny scene. (Admittedly after the passage of some time.) I wish I had a picture of our faces at that moment.

But I don't find every affliction funny. Losing my first seven children has no humor to me. It does have joy, because I trust God's Word and it was through those deaths I came to that. I know each of those babies got a get out of jail free card. Their souls went to the Lord. I rejoice in the miracle of the three children God allowed us to have when men said it was impossible.

Yet out of that I also gained the understanding of the sorrow one experiences at the death of a child. I know it is impossible to smile one's way through every darkness that falls.  I also would not find funny many of the tragedies that come into lives. I have pain everyday. I have psoriasis-related arthritis. I have some kind of damage to my right thigh or hip that stabs me constantly. I understand it's hard to see pain as comedic.

A biography of Jim Morrison, the lead singer of The Doors who died young, is entitled "No One Here Gets Out Alive." I do not fear my own death. I do not laugh at death, however; or at those who do fear it. Many should fear it. I find nothing comic in that fact. There is a Kingdom greater than the kingdom of the world. There is a way to enter it and a way for anyone to get out of here alive. It is the Kingdom of Heaven and Jesus Christ is the King of Kings and all will bow to this King someday, but not all will worship him. Many will be committed to that other king and they will go and join that king forever where they don't really think they'll be. Those are the ones who should fear death.

I don't find that funny at all. Don't let it be you.

I thought after my description of my popping eyes, frog-throat and polka-dotted skin, among other afflictions, I better include some recent photos taken to prove I'm not a monster. Of course, looking like a monster is subjective, so that is up to you to decide.