The Adversity Principle, Part 1
Some years ago, I came across the work of a man named Dr. Stephen Hawking, who died in 2018. He was an astrophysicist at Cambridge University and perhaps the most intelligent man on earth. The mantle of Albert Einstein had fallen on his shoulders, and he wore it with dignity. He advanced the general theory of relativity farther than any person since the old man died. Dr. Hawking is also credited with mathematical calculations suggesting the existence of black holes in space and other widely acclaimed theories.
Unfortunately, Dr. Hawking was afflicted with a rare degenerative neuromuscular disorder called amyotrophic lateral sclerosis (ALS syndrome), or Lou Gehrig's disease. It eventually took his life. He was confined to a wheelchair for years, where he could do little more than sit and think. He couldn’t even write down the mathematical formulae that govern the progression of his thoughts. "Omni" magazine said of Hawking back in 1979, "His mind is a blackboard. He memorizes the long strings of equations that give life to his ideas, then dictates the results to his colleagues or secretary—a feat that has been compared to Beethoven's writing an entire symphony in his head or Milton's dictating Paradise Lost to his daughter."
In later years, Hawking lost the ability even to speak, and he communicated by means of a computer that was operated from the tiniest movement of his fingertips. Quoting "Omni" again: "He is too weak to write, feed himself, comb his hair, fix his glasses—all this must be done for him. Yet this most dependent of all men has escaped invalid status. His personality shines through the messy details of his existence."
That acceptance of catastrophic illness was what made Stephen Hawking of interest in the present discussion, even though he does not believe in the God of the Bible. He might have been a deist, although he wrote a book in 1988 entitled A Brief History of Time in which he labored to explain away the need for a Creator. Nevertheless, what Hawking learned from his disability is remarkable and can be enlightening to those of us who live by faith.
He said that before he became ill, he had very little interest in life. He called it a "pointless existence" resulting from sheer boredom. He drank too much and did very little work. Then he learned he had ALS and was not expected to live more than two years. The ultimate effect of that diagnosis, beyond its initial shock, was extremely positive. He claimed to have been happier after he was afflicted than before. How can that be understood? Hawking provided the answer.
He said, "When one's expectations are reduced to zero, one really appreciates everything that one does have." Stated another way, contentment in life is determined, in part, by what a person anticipates from it. To a man like Hawking who thought he would soon die quickly, everything takes on meaning—a sunrise or a walk in a park or the laughter of children. Suddenly, each small pleasure becomes precious. By contrast, those who believe life owes them a free ride are often discontent with its finest gifts.
Hawking also said this about his physical limitations: "If you're disabled, you should pour your energies into those areas where you are not handicapped. You should concentrate on what you can do well, and not mourn over what you cannot do. And it is very important not to give in to self-pity. If you're disabled and you feel sorry for yourself, then no one is going to have much to do with you. A physically handicapped person certainly cannot afford to be psychologically handicapped as well."
Another way of expressing Hawking's point is that a person faced with extreme hardship must press himself to get tougher. Whining and self-pity, as logical as they seem, are deadly indulgences. An individual in crisis will either grow stronger or become demoralized. Within certain limits, of course, adversity can have a positive effect on people by helping to build character. For Christians, Scripture says it develops and enhances that precious characteristic called faith (James 1:2-4).
Biologists have long recognized this concept, which we'll call the adversity principle, at work in the world of plants and animals. As strange as it seems, habitual well-being is not advantageous to a species. An existence without challenge takes its toll on virtually every living thing. Just look at the flabby animals in a zoo, for example. Food is delivered to them every day, and they need to do nothing but lie around and yawn. Or consider a tree planted in a rainforest. Because water is readily available, it does not have to extend its root system more than a few feet below the surface. Consequently, it is often poorly anchored and can be toppled by a minor windstorm. But a mesquite tree planted in a hostile and arid land must send its roots down 30 feet or more in search of water. Not even a gale can blow it over. Its unfriendly habitat actually contributes to stability and vigor.
Read The Adversity Principle, Part 2
Read The Adversity Principle, Part 3
From Dr. Dobson's book When God Doesn’t Make Sense.
