Cold showers are awesome. Just kidding. I hate them. Who doesn’t? But I still took one every day for over a year. Every day.
I started in May 2024, which meant that the water was cool, not cold. In Georgia, a cool shower in August after yardwork was downright pleasant. Ahhhhhhh. By November, all pleasantness was gone. I could only keep going with the daily discipline by saying to myself, “I can make it until Christmas,” and then “I can make it until my birthday(in April).”
This all started when I heard a great podcast from one of my favorites, Dr. Kevin Majeres from Optimal Work, about how cold showers trigger the dynorphin effect. What is the dynorphin effect, you may ask? I did.
Dynorphins are neurotransmitters that have the opposite effect of endorphins. Endorphins are the feel-good chemicals that signal my brain to sit around and enjoy what’s going on, while dynorphins tell me, “RUN!!!” Imagine my emotional experience when I turn on the shower and accidentally get a blast of cold water on the back of my head. That “yikes, turn it off or move!!!” sensation is a flood of dynorphins telling me to flee.
The interesting thing is that the flow of different neurotransmitters in my brain are connected to one another. If I get a massive flood of dopamine (another neurotransmitter connected to the reward centers of my brain) from a drug high or scrolling through TikTok cat videos, it’s followed by a massive flood of dynorphins, which is my body’s signal that I need to stop and run away. Unfortunately for the addict, that dynorphin crash often triggers more addictive, dopamine-seeking behavior in order to compensate for the crash, which eventually causes a deeper crash and the proverbial downward spiral.
But a funny thing happens when I experience the dynorphin crash first and ride the wave through it. To compensate for the dynorphins, my brain releases endorphins (those feel-good chemicals). This is why people feel really good after a crushing workout, a long run, or surprisingly, a cold shower.
Dr. Majeres highly recommends cold showers as a way of increasing mental and emotional well-being because of the endorphin bounce that follows. He also sees it as a way I can train myself to embrace the little sufferings of life in pursuit of higher goals. It teaches me to do hard things.
Tripwires for the Fast
While I did experience the benefits Dr. Majeres described, I also noticed something else. I wanted to talk about it. Especially as the year dipped into the colder months, I wanted people to “Oooh” and “Ahhh” about my daily discipline. “You’re so hardcore, Nathan, I’m impressed,” I imagined them saying.
Of course, I knew that this was a temptation to spiritual pride, which is one of the chief dangers of ascetic practices. So grave is the danger that Jesus had to address it directly:
When you fast, do not look gloomy like the hypocrites. They neglect their appearance, so that they may appear to others to be fasting. Amen, I say to you, they have received their reward. But when you fast, anoint your head and wash your face, so that you may not appear to others to be fasting, except to your Father who is hidden. And your Father who sees what is hidden will repay you (Matthew 6:16-18).
The tempter wanted to trip me up and put me in the hypocrite camp with those who do ascetic practices to impress others with their manly spirituality. I admit that my feet got tangled up more than once. Afterwards, I almost always thought to myself, “Why did I do that?”
While I deeply appreciate asceticism and the place it has in the spiritual life, this danger is ever present. If I choose a specific penance or path of suffering, the devil can rob me of any fruit by making me impressed with myself. Remember that the devil is a robber.
The Gift of a Cross
I continued my discipline of cold showers for about 15 months, until I wrecked my back in an unfortunate Jiu Jitsu accident. I pinched a nerve and ended up at the emergency room. I’ve never experienced that kind of pain before.
Almost six months later, the nerve is still pinched, but the pain has settled down to consistent one or two… enough that I notice it whenever I stand or move, but not so much that I can’t walk or can’t sleep.
Shortly after the injury, I complained to God as I was about to step into another cold shower. “I don’t want to do this any more.” This time, the Lord responded, “You’re done.” He didn’t want me to continue the cold showers any more. I was so relieved.
But then my injury did not go away. I’ve been to the orthopedist and done physical therapy. I’ve gotten prayers for healing dozens of times. But it’s still not better.
I don’t think I’m even remotely holy enough to have earned a “thorn in the flesh,” which St. Paul received to keep him from becoming elated (2 Cor 12:7). This is more garden-variety, “I’m a middle-aged man and did something stupid” kind of suffering. But it’s real, and it’s out of my control.
Accepting All Things from the Hand of God
When God told me I could stop doing cold showers, I had the profound sense that He was replacing a suffering that I had chosen with one that He had chosen. He saw the peril of spiritual pride and wanted to remove it. The medicine He prescribed was a dose of humility.
When I lost feeling in the outside of my left foot, it shattered the illusion of my invincibility. Right after the injury, I was appalled to discover that I couldn’t stand on my tiptoes anymore. I also couldn’t run. My leg just wouldn’t do it. Some of that functionality returned over time, but part of my foot still feels like it’s asleep.
God forced me to slow down. He also gave me a new window into the experience of people who endure chronic health problems. I had no idea. I always liked to think of myself as a compassionate person, but it took experiencing it from the inside to really understand. I also realize that my small suffering is a pale shadow of sufferings that others endure.
He has also given me the grace to see that He is at work in this suffering in a profound and beautiful way. His desire is to perfect my soul. My Father wants to see me flourish and become the man He created me to be. He sees my flaws and weakness, but more importantly He sees my potential. He sees the saint that I could become, if only I can persist in the obedience of faith.
Suffering is not God’s end game, but it is a crucial tool in His work of shaping souls. Some lessons can only be learned through trials, through difficulty, through sorrow.
The key that unlocks the fruitfulness of suffering is trust. Trust is the act of hope that says, “I am in (physical, emotional, spiritual, relational, psychological) pain, but God is at work and has a plan for me, even if I can’t see what He’s doing.” Sometimes I have to the hold onto that act of trust for just a short while, but sometimes it seems like the suffering will last forever. That’s when trust is most important.
While I do still think that asceticism is good and has it’s place in the spiritual life, I’ve come to the conclusion that it might not be necessary to seek out suffering. Life contains, by God’s providence, a multitude of sufferings large and small that God can use to shape my character into something beautiful. All He needs is my consent.
God’s goal with suffering is not punitive, but transformative. It’s redemptive. “For God did not send his Son into the world to condemn the world, but that the world might be saved through him.” (John 3:17) Embracing the suffering God allows in my life is the way that I can take up my cross daily and follow Him. His goal for me suffering is that I might become a soul transformed by love, so that others might look upon my life and give glory to God, my Father in heaven.
To read my story of how Jesus Christ snatched me from the snares of the devil, get my book Demoniac on Amazon.com. Subscribe to my Substack to get more of my articles directly into your inbox at nathankrupa.substack.com.
