Let us also lay aside every weight, and sin which clings so closely, and let us run with endurance the race that is set before us, looking to Jesus, the founder and perfecter of our faith… Hebrews 12:1b-2a
Answer me when I call, O God of my righteousness! You have given me relief when I was in distress. Be gracious to me and hear my prayer!
(Psalms 4:1)
Giver of all good gifts, today we praise You for Your mercy and for the unbelievably precious gift of our salvation in Christ. Thank You for loving us even when we were in rebellion towards You and for saving us despite ourselves. You are truly a God of mercy, compassionate and faithful to the uttermost!
As we come before the throne of grace today, we come as those who are in desperate need. We need Your grace, Lord. There are many among us who are hurting either physically or emotionally; many who walk in darkness and struggle with burdens too heavy for us to carry. Yet You are the Light of the world who dispels the darkness, and upon Your able shoulders we are told to cast our cares and our worries.
Today, I ask that You will help those who are in need to do just that: cast their cares on You. Pierce the darkness with the light of Your truth and goodness, and lift the burden of those who are heavily laden. Refresh the weak and weary in spirit and revive the heart of the despondent. I humbly ask that You will lift the eyes of the downcast and cause them to be fixed steadfastly on You.
Be the Healer, the Provider, and the Joy of Your people, Lord! Make our hearts feel the rightness of Your presence and cause our spirits to soar on wings like eagles’. May it be that Your people are so filled with the joy of the Lord that we naturally proclaim Your goodness and grace by our every action and word. Revive the hearts of Your people for Your own glory, Lord, and let it be that we display Your power as we walk in victory over sin and despair. For the glory of the risen King and in His name we ask this benefit, amen.
On my birthday this year, my optometrist let me know that it was time to transition to bifocals.
Of course, this was not news to me considering I have spent the better part of the last few months trying to read grocery labels at arm’s length – and in the middle of the aisle for the best light. But of course, even a cursory glance in the mirror tells me the same tale: I am not young anymore.
How do I feel about this? To be honest, I don’t really know. While I do not mind the grays that are appearing here and there in my hair, I must say I am not a big fan of the loss of elasticity in my skin.
Yet in a candid moment, I might tell you that dealing with chronic pain and the associated fatigue has made me feel old before my time, so in some ways it merely seems that the clock is catching up.
In fact, I might even venture to say that the years spent fighting through the migraine fog and feeling so tired that I can actually fall asleep on a staircase have left me rather well prepared for the reality of aging.
Perhaps even because of these things, I do not mind getting old so much as I thought I might. I admit that I do sometimes skip looking in the mirror nowadays, but really there is something freeing in the realization that no matter what makeup tips or clothing tricks I might learn, I still will not look like the 25-year-old me.
What I do know is that, no matter what is going on on the outside, the changes that are happening within are much more desirable. Emotionally, I was pretty tumultuous as a young woman and most of my young adulthood was marked by either darkness or by an attempt to run from it.
I cannot claim to have it all figured out now, but by the grace of God, my mental state is largely better. There are bumps in the road and I do stray into the deep, dark valleys from time to time, but I have something now that I did not have as the 25-year-old me: Hope.
Today, my hope is not in youth or even in feeling good but in Christ alone. Anymore, I put little faith in my body and mind, knowing how both have betrayed me in the past, but I can put every ounce of my tiny faith in God, knowing that He will take my little and make much of it.
No longer do I trust in what I can or cannot do but rather in what He has already done on my behalf. For between migraine issues and age, my flesh and heart can and do fail me, but my God is my strength and what’s more, He is my portion. Forever.
So we do not lose heart. Though our outer self is wasting away, our inner self is being renewed day by day. For this light momentary affliction is preparing for us an eternal weight of glory beyond all comparison,
(2 Corinthians 4:16-17)
Continue steadfastly in prayer, being watchful in it with thanksgiving.
(Colossians 4:2)
Some weeks are just… funky. Take this week, for instance. Coming off of a several-week stretch of absolutely ridiculous fatigue, I finally woke up on Monday and felt, if not exactly rested, at least functional.
And it was a pretty productive day. In fact, between Monday and Tuesday, I managed to get through the usual homeschooling, parenting, and home management details plus finish correcting formatting errors on my manuscript, do some preliminary research on what I need to do in terms of putting together a book proposal, and started revising my chapter summary in hopes of gaining some publisher or agent’s attention.
On top of that, I was able to finish a project I’ve been working on as a gift (which I can say nothing more about on the off chance that the intended recipient stops by). I even had some excellent walks and talks with my Heavenly Father – something I have badly missed this school year but am now able to do again thanks to my son’s new status as a driver.
Yet, I could think of nothing useful to write about.
I suppose that keeping any sort of record of my faith journey is bound to have spells like this. Sometimes, I simply feel like there is nothing new to say. At other times, the things God is showing me through my time in His word or prayer just takes time and meditation before it can be distilled into words.
Still other times, I have one of those extremely mild but extremely annoying little “migraine-ish” headaches that does little more than scatter my thoughts and crumble my motivation. At times like that, writing becomes something very like trying to leash train a cat.
The Miscreant enjoying his walk
At times like this, I suppose the thing to do is to persist. Write something down anyway. Drag the dead weight if I must.
Actually, it’s a lot like prayer…
In his letter to the Colossian church, Paul admonishes them to “continue steadfastly in prayer.”
This is a reminder I recently needed. After all, sometimes God answers prayer in immediate, very specific, and exciting ways. At such times it is a thrill to be a part of His work, and the natural overflow is one of thanksgiving and praise.
But other times…
Well, other times remind me of Abraham. When he first met God, his name was Abram, and he was told to take his household and move to “the land that I [God] will show you.” (See Genesis 12:1)
Not long afterwards, the Lord told Abram that He would give all the land his eyes could see to Abram and his children (Genesis 13:14-18). At this point, the man was childless, yet he did as the Lord said. Eventually, when Abram was 99, the Lord revealed Himself to Abram as El Shaddai – the Almighty God – and changed his name from Abram (exalted father) to Abraham (father of a multitude). You can read about that in Genesis 17, and there is a lot more to say about the story than time allows (especially since I am now trying to squeeze this post in when there are a half-dozen other tasks awaiting me).
For now, suffice to say that Abraham died before God’s promise was fulfilled, owning only the cave that he and his wife were buried in (see Genesis 23:19-20 and 25:9). And yet, we are told that, “Abraham believed God and it was credited to him as righteousness.” (Genesis 15:6, Romans 4:3 et al).
The promise may not have been completely fulfilled in Abraham’s lifespan, but he did die with a sort of foothold on the Promised Land. And eventually, of course, his offspring did possess the land.
I tend to think Abraham may have been a teensy bit more self-focused than me. You see, he believed God and persisted in his relationship to the Lord no matter what. I have to admit that I have been known to throw a bit of a temper tantrum to my Father, along the lines of, “You promised that if I asked certain things that I know to be within Your will, they would happen. Where are they?”
Yeah, it’s a little embarrassing on my part.
The truth is, God does fulfill His promises; but not in my time and my way. Maybe Abraham knew this, which is why he was so willing to march up Moriah with his son, a knife, and a bundle of firewood. He knew God would deliver on the promise, even if it was in some convoluted way that Abraham could not see. Maybe, to Abraham, a foothold was assurance enough.
So, whatever it is you are praying for, if you are certain it is within the will of God (and I am speaking more of the salvation of another person or that your children will love God with all their hearts, not a new car or a better house), continue steadfastly!
But – and here is the part that I am slow to learn – continue steadfastly with thanksgiving. If we really, really believe God will do what He says He will do, why wait to thank Him when the deal is done? I think, maybe, what I need to do more of when I persevere in prayer is to do so with gratitude already on my lips, fully confident that my God will bring it to pass.
After all, when I look at my own salvation, I see that He has already given me a foothold.
He who calls you is faithful; he will surely do it.
(1 Thessalonians 5:24)
Rejoice always, pray without ceasing, give thanks in all circumstances; for this is the will of God in Christ Jesus for you.
(1 Thessalonians 5:16-18)
If living with chronic pain has taught me nothing else, at least I have learned to give thanks to God despite it.
Does this mean that I always feel thankful? No.
I wish I could say that my heart was eternally brimming with gratitude and thanksgiving poured in a continual fountain from my lips, but to say so would be a grave deceit.
Yet make no mistake: the fault is not in my God, but in me.
I freely confess that I am not always thankful. I particularly struggle in the prodrome phase of migraine, which in my case resembles nothing less than a mild-to-moderate psychotic break. In fact, so peculiar is the flavor of despair and/or rage during a prodrome that my husband and children have been able to accurately predict my migraines for years now.
More often than not, I feel shame rather than thanksgiving for that fact.
When another prodrome has mellowed into mere pain, sometimes I find myself falling prey to self-loathing, wishing that I were a better example for the children or less of a burden on my husband or any number of other things.
However…
All of this – the good and the bad – serves only to remind me that the enemy of our souls desires to use every single circumstance as a wedge to drive us further from God and from each other.
But on the flip side, God can and will use each circumstance for good and for His glory if we will surrender it to Him.
So today, I publicly surrender. I am choosing to look past both discomfort and my emotional response to it and praise God for the valuable lessons I have learned and for those I am still learning in the school of pain.
I am thankful for my weakness because it forces me to rely more on my God.
I am thankful for for crazy mood swings because they remind me that my salvation does not depend on how I feel but on what my Lord has done.
I am thankful that having an invisible illness tends to make me weigh the motives of others with greater compassion. Perhaps that rude lady in the grocery store is dealing with a migraine prodrome, or perhaps the man who cut me off on the interstate had an ocular migraine and very literally did not see me, or perhaps the person who jostled me as I walked did so because some joint pain caused them to stumble, or…
I am thankful for my family, who put up with me when I’m not sure I would put up with myself.
I am thankful that my God is bigger than pain, particularly since in the mix of arthritis, back and neck issues, migraine, and stomach trouble from too many years of carelessness with NSAIDs there are very few days where nothing hurts.
I am thankful for a husband who is patient and kind – even when I am not.
I am thankful that my Lord Jesus chose to experience both the physical and emotional aspects of pain by walking in His creation as a man. Let that sink in a minute. Lord, every time we feel pain or suffer, remind us that You have shared in that experience by Your own deliberate choice and praise You for Your compassion.
I am thankful He chose to pay in full the cost of my sin even though I did not deserve it and even though I continue not to deserve it.
I am thankful that because He did, I am not a slave to either pain or any emotion generated by it, and I am equally thankful that He is patient with me when I forget that I am a free woman and drag around my rusty old chains once more.
I am thankful that He does not need me, but that He still allows me to participate in spreading the word of His goodness and glory even though I have often made a mess of things in my silly little attempts.
Even in the midst of circumstances that tempt me to knuckle under to despair, I intentionally (and maybe even defiantly!) give thanks, because despite the unpredictable flux of my mental state, the Rock of Ages is steadfast and His love endures forever!
If then you have been raised with Christ, seek the things that are above, where Christ is, seated at the right hand of God. Set your minds on things that are above, not on things that are on earth. For you have died, and your life is hidden with Christ in God.
Colossians 3:1-3
I remember just a short time ago when my three-year-old responded to my admonition that he behave with an outburst somewhat, ahem, telling of his personality: “I ambeing have!”
Oh, wait… that only seemed like a short time ago. In actuality, it was thirteen years ago, and that same little boy is now driving, holds a purple belt in Wado Ryu karate, and is navigating his first boy-girl relationship that is not based primarily on who is ‘It’ in a game of hide-and-go-seek.
My how time flies… And time has also softened the edges of that memory so that the humor stands out clearly, unencumbered by the emotional barrier of dealing with a defiant toddler.
Often these days, I look back with fondness at the years when my children were small. However, I have to admit that at the time I often felt overwhelmed by the sheer mass of needs that ruled my day, particularly since it was when they were all small that I first began to struggle with chronic migraine.
Yet today even the towering needs of three toddlers seem trifling in the face of the more complex emotional needs of teenagers. And I know that someday, I will even look back on these hormone-fueled clashes with some degree of nostalgia – as well as with a better understanding of which battles were truly important and which only seemed critical at the time.
Hindsight can be so illuminating.
To be honest, this is the very thing I have to remember when I’m in the middle of a bad migraine cycle. I must remember that time marches on and one day the long, dreary days of pain and fatigue will be mere memory, softened by time and no longer full of sharp spikes and energy-depleting edges.
Although now the battle against pain is furious and intense; although now pain may color the days in browns and grays like a typical overcast Tennessee winter, it will not always be this way.
Here in Tennessee, spring has already made an early incursion, and on its heels color slowly seeps back into the landscape until the days are once more awash in lush greens and deep blues with every imaginable shade and combination of reds and yellows mixed in.
Even so, at least for those of us who are in Christ, the pain-filled days are merely the winter of our time of exile here on earth. But spring is coming.
And for those who do not know our God, the invitation remains open to you as well. Come, cast your cares on the Lord, and He will sustain you.
For there will come a day when, just as we look back on the previous trials of our lives, we will look back on all of this life through eyes of experience, and though it is difficult now, it will be but a little moment in the vastness of Eternity. Then we will remember the days of weariness and toil and be glad of the lessons we learned in the midst of them. Then, too, we will be fully aware of the glory of God which we once overlooked while keeping our eyes locked on the next step of the tiresome path at our feet.
But we do have another option.
Instead of keeping our eyes downcast now, fixed on these earthly problems of pain, why not set our thoughts on the things above? Through His power at work within us, we truly can shift our focus from this small, shrinking self and onto the eternal nature of our glorious King with full assurance that all of this – even the most agonizing moments – will be used for good in His perfect and eternal purpose.
As a matter of focus, we can learn even now to see slivers of beauty peeping through the links of affliction, for even in pain, our King has walked before us and knows the way.
I missed Monday this week, but I didn’t want to entirely miss this… Last week, I talked to you about refocusing on praise rather than on your circumstances. Today, I want to talk a little bit about why.
If you are anything like me, you have probably entertained the idea that the whole chronic migraine issue just isn’t fair. Other people can eat whatever they want, do whatever activities they want; heck, many can even go for a hike or a run in hot, sunny weather. It doesn’t seem at all fair, does it?
But here’s a funny little secret that I have learned: When we humans say that something isn’t fair, what we really mean is that we don’t like it.
In fact, I doubt any of us would enjoy “fair” if it were put into practice. If fairness were to rule the day, then Jesus would never have given Himself up as a substitutionary sacrifice and we would all pay the eternal price of our sins. That would be fair, but I would not look forward to it.
So when you think about it, unfairness itself is something to be grateful about. You and I, we have sinned. Although I can’t speak for you, I daily fail to put God first in everything, often by falling into self-pity. And that is just one single area – there are many, many more.
The truth is that we have fallen far short of the glory of God, and we actually do deserve pain and suffering, both now and in eternity.
But Jesus did not. He endured hunger, thirst, fatigue, and even torture, betrayal, and a shameful, horrible death at the hands of the very people He came to save. He did not deserve it, but out of love, He did it anyway. For you. For me. For any of us who will accept His Lordship with gratitude.
So when you are in pain, try to fix your mind on Jesus and remember that the unfair price He paid is something for which we can be forever thankful. And remember that I am trying the very same tactic, though not always with success.
Be encouraged that even in suffering, you are never alone, for our Lord suffered, too.
Consider him who endured from sinners such hostility against himself, so that you may not grow weary or fainthearted. In your struggle against sin you have not yet resisted to the point of shedding your blood. (Hebrews 12:3-4)
Although this post is inspired by and dedicated to my young friend, I offer it to anyone who struggles with chronic pain, migraine or otherwise.
Dear J.,
One of the most deplorable things about chronic pain of any type is that it can begin to creep into your heart after a time, staining each bright new day with blotches of dreary brown and blunting the edges of enthusiasm until life seems to stretch out into one great, endless weariness.
That is the look I see in the back of your eyes these days. You’ve let the migraines become a part of who you are; accepting the pain and even defining yourself by it. My dear, believe me when I tell you this: that is a luxury you simply cannot afford.
Oh, I know it stinks. Sometimes, I think, it is important to remember that you are not alone. The triptans that are such a miracle for so many are barred to me as well. And like you, I have months that are better and months that are worse. Along the way, I’ve learned some tricks to reducing the headaches and others for simply coping with pain. Over time, I hope to share them with you.
But for today, I just want to address the darkness that now clouds your lovely blue eyes.
Will you believe me if I tell you that there are worse kinds of pain you can have besides the physical sort? It’s true. In many ways – ways that are better discussed in person on a nice long hike with fresh air in our lungs and sunlight filtering through the leaves – you are fortunate to have this particular struggle, even at your age. There are many worse things that could have happened.
While that may seem far-fetched, it is entirely true, and that is where I want to begin. Before we discuss some practical steps you can take to waging serious war against your migraines, really the first and most important battle you can undertake is the one against despair.
You simply cannot let the enemy of your soul win the field on that one.
Trust me if I say I know what I am talking about here. Physical pain has not been my only opponent on the battlefield, and so I have at least a year or two (or is that a decade or two?) of experience from which to pull. What I advise you today is pragmatic and workable, though it may seem foolish to you at first.
My challenge to you today is to praise God anyway – and not just today, but every single day this week, maybe even many times each day. All day long, if you must.
That’s the first step; that’s the challenge. Yet I do not leave you to build without tools. Interestingly enough, neither did God! One of the first steps in learning to praise God even in the midst of trials, hardship, and suffering is to understand that you are not alone in it.
Remember that He submitted to pain, Himself, and so He can and does understand. That is a small part of a great truth you can find in Hebrews 4:15-16:
For we do not have a high priest who is unable to sympathize with our weaknesses, but one who in every respect has been tempted as we are, yet without sin. Let us then with confidence draw near to the throne of grace, that we may receive mercy and find grace to help in time of need.
Hebrews 4:15-16
So grab a pen and a few note cards. This is a full-on homework assignment and one I suggest you take seriously. If you recall your most recent visit to my house, you will see that I am not speaking hypocritically. From long experience, I have simply learned that the most effective weapon in battling the darkness is the Sword of the Lord, which is the Word of God (see Ephesians 6:17).
When you cannot think of your own words of praise, borrow someone else’s! Sometimes, too, it is helpful to realize that the road of difficulty is not as lonely as the enemy would have you believe.
Not all at once, maybe, but over the next few days look up the following passages, write them on note cards or post-it notes, and stick them up wherever you are most likely to see them. Then stop and read them aloud as often as it takes.
…the pain that gnaws me takes no rest.
(Job 30:17b)
Not only that, but we rejoice in our sufferings, knowing that suffering produces endurance…
(Romans 5:3)
To kick off a discussion about migraine, I’d like to begin by making sure we are all on the same page by stating for the record that a migraine is not just a headache. It is a full-body neurological experience of which the headache pain is only the climax.
A true migraine can (but does not always) involve up to four phases: the prodrome which can occur hours or even days before; the aura which afflicts about 20-25% of migraine sufferers and usually immediately precedes the headache phase; the migraine attack which involves intense, one-sided headache pain accompanied by sensitivity to lights, sounds, smells, and/or nausea and vomiting; and the postdrome, affectionately known to many migraine sufferers as the “migraine hangover.”
And to be honest, there are a host of additional symptoms that sometimes occur ranging from visual disturbances to difficulties in speech or cognition; a list which can become disturbingly varied and long. Suffice to say that calling a migraine a headache does not quite do the experience justice.
Chronic migraine is another thing altogether. Typically, it begins with distinct episodes of migraine that, over time, progress to a relentless , one-sided headache with the potential to morph into and out of a full-blown migraine episode without warning.
From my personal experience with chronic migraine, the entire migraine sequence can become one jumbled mess, and some months are better than others with or without medication. It is from this that I can feel empathy for Job when he said, ” … the pain that gnaws at me takes no rest,” because I have been there.
How did it come to this? Hard to say. The best educated guess I have heard is that I sustained some nerve damage during a bout of viral meningitis back in 2004. Perhaps it did not help matters much that I’m a bit prone to push through pain and so was not hospitalized until the third day – and I mean three days of being unable to sleep for the pain in my head and unable to hold down so much as a tiny trickle of water from a medicine dropper.
Yeah, I know. Not too bright. But sometimes you just do what you have to do.
And today, I have to confess.
I am just coming out of two very dark weeks beginning with a particularly hideous 72-hour prodrome followed by about a 10-11 day stretch of various levels of migraine ranging from “I am functional but I may take 2 hours for a 20-minute grocery run and may wear sunglasses indoors,” to “Uncle.”
And because our enemy does like to kick us when we are down, he really laid on the temptation – and I fell for it. I freely confess that I spent an embarrassing number of days in a full-on pity party. It was pathetic, actually, and whether it can be argued that I had cause or not, sin is still sin and I must accept full responsibility for my complicity.
While my husband and I have prayed for and believe that God is able to heal me of this, we also realize that He will only do so if it serves His purposes. Sometimes I lose sight of this. In fact, I sometimes lose sight of Him and fix my eyes only on my problems, as I did last week.
That’s where today’s second verse comes in. Even though there may be pain in life, pain is not always bad. Often, God has lessons for us to learn through the pain.
What I was reminded of first and foremost was to look “to Jesus, the Founder and Perfecter of my faith, Who for the glory that was set before Him endured the cross, despising the shame,” and to “consider Him who endured from sinners such hostility against Himself so that you may not grow weary or fainthearted” (see Hebrews 12:2-3).
Here’s the thing that my little excursion into sinful self-focus reminded me: He did not deserve to suffer. I do.
And so, today I consider Him and bow myself in reverence and humility, rejoicing that while the father of lies desires to use my pain to drive me into sin, my Father can use the same tool to bring about contemplation of His grace.
And when I contemplate the goodness and meekness of my King, I find that I can rejoice in my suffering because He has suffered, too. Even in pain, I am never alone.
I’m interested… what helps you cope with chronic pain?
“Life is pain, Highness. Anyone who says differently is selling something.” — Dread Pirate Roberts aka Westly; ThePrincess Bride
For some people, this is not just a clever line from a movie; it is quite literally true.
There are many “invisible” illnesses (ie- Lyme disease, MS, lupus, et al), and while I’ve known several people who struggle with them, there is one that I am very – one might say intimately – familiar with: Chronic migraine.
For the last 12 years, I have been dealing with a poorly-understood headache condition that is most commonly diagnosed as chronic migraine, although I have also received diagnoses of cluster headaches and occipital neuralgia (which really just means pain at the base of the skull and is more a description than a diagnosis) and even trigeminal neuralgia (which, again, just means pain in areas supplied by the trigemnial nerve).
But the one diagnosis that has dogged me persistently is chronic migraine, meaning 15 or more headache days per month. I cannot describe it better than the headache specialists at Johns Hopkins already have, so I will quote from their website:
Most migraines typically last a few hours to a couple of days and respond well to specific treatments. However, in some patients, The migraine is particularly severe and long-lasting—and may even become chronic, occurring continuously for weeks, months, or even years on end. If improperly managed or left untreated, intermittent migraines may essentially transform into a chronic daily headache, with continuous and smoldering symptoms that periodically erupt into a “full-blown” migraine.
That’s pretty much my life in a nutshell. And I have learned to cope.
Although I have mentioned migraine in the past (here and here and here for those who are interested), it has been rare for me to dedicate an entire post to nothing more than migraine (except, perhaps, for a serial post about being thankful for the lessons of migraine beginning here although I didn’t re-read the entire thing because, well… I’m currently fighting a migraine).
In the main, I’ve avoided it because I do not want to fall into the habit of complaining. Recently, however, I’ve found that discussion of the problem with others who suffer or who care for a migraine sufferer can be useful, even helpful, so long as I am careful not to merely moan and groan but point to tips and tricks I’ve learned or how God has used an unpleasant circumstance for His good and glory (which He has many times).
So after a couple of suggestions from friends new and old, I think I’m going to try something new on here. On the off chance it gives hope to one person or makes a single soul feel less alone, I am going to dedicate Mondays on this blog to a discussion on migraine. May the Lord set a guard over my… ah, over my fingers, I suppose… and use this space and discussion for His purposes and glory, and may I resist any temptation to whine!
As always, I welcome any comments, feedback, sharing of your own migraine stories, or whatever else you may wish to say so long as foul language, insults or derision aimed at anyone else, and so forth are avoided.
So starting Monday, look for a post about what migraine is… and what it is not. Perhaps, even, we can pray for one another that God may be glorified either because of or despite migraine. Certainly, we can pray that God may bring comfort to those who suffer without His peace.
Blessings to you!
Bear one another’s burdens, and so fulfill the law of Christ.
(Galatians 6:2)
**Update July 2017: Although I had fully intended to write about my migraine journey and the spiritual lessons therein each Monday, in my real life of teenagers, work, church, and everything else, it is not happening.
It would seem that actually coping with migraines and the associated fatigue, brain fog , etc., etc. does not necessarily lend itself to such ambitious aims. So instead of every single Monday, I will just put every migraine-related post in a category (cleverly called “migraine”) where interested parties can find these posts and read them at their leisure…
A Psalm for giving thanks. Make a joyful noise to the LORD, all the earth! Serve the LORD with gladness! Come into his presence with singing!
(Psalms 100:1-2)
As much as I wish this Psalm described every day of my Christian walk, it does not. Actually, I must confess that it describes a state of mind entirely unlike the one I found myself in yesterday.
In fact, had I been in a more cheerful mood, I may have snickered at the irony of this Psalm coming up, not once or twice, but in threedifferent places throughout my day beginning with my Bible study over — of all seemingly unrelated things — the book of Nehemiah.
But I was not in a cheerful mood. Not at all. And I did not even so much as grin.
Unfortunately for me and everyone else in my home, yesterday found me fully immersed in the first stage of a migraine; a fun little experience known as the prodrome.
While I do not always experience prodrome with my migraines, I typically (although not always) go through it before a particularly persistent one. And if I can be baldly honest with you, I’d rather have the migraine pain any day than the wretched, beastly prodrome.
For me, the prodrome occurs as little as 12 hours before or as long as 72 hours before a migraine attack. Yesterday was Day 2. Ugh.
Indulge me for a moment and allow me an attempt at describing this phenomenon. Sometimes it is sudden, striking while I am sailing along blithely teaching my one remaining homeschool student or cheerily washing the 11,016 cups that my family of five manages to use in a single day. At such times, I become very abruptly and irrationally furious.
Other times I wake up in a funk that I cannot shake no matter what, or I may feel as if every single body part is made of lead and I am trying to maneuver through a space filled with molasses. Or all of the above.
Without fail, the prodrome involves some level of extreme anger and/or depression along with a stimulating variety of physical symptoms such as an absolutely outrageous thirst, difficulty saying words, mixing up my words, crushing fatigue, clumsiness, and inability to concentrate. But the worst part of the prodrome is a terrifying sense of impenetrable spiritual darkness.
Give me pain any day. Seriously.
You see, pain is something I can handle. I’m actually rather well practiced at the management and endurance of physical pain, admittedly sometimes to a fault.
But that darkness, though… It makes me shudder. There’s a particularly horrendous quality to it that I cannot even put into words. At one point or another, every single migraine prodrome I can remember has seen me tearfully crying out to my God, begging Him not to turn His back on me.
At such times, I truly feel as if He is utterly absent from my life and I am entirely alone. Almost equally disturbing is bizarre mental sensation of being gradually crushed by a hideous, palpable blackness.
There are not even words… I think it is something like a private glimpse into hell.
Whether this event is merely a quirk caused by a disturbance in the chemical balance of my brain or whether it is because my enemy takes advantage of the pre-migraine chemical chaos to hurl every accusation he can muster against my God and myself, I do not know. All I know is that I loathe it completely.
And yet…
My amazing God, my marvelous and awe-inspiring King is using even this unlikely tool to teach me more about Him. Each time it happens, even as I choke out the words, “Where ARE You?!?” some part of me knows that He is still there.
Sometimes, as the accusations fly or despair throttles my ability to reason, I hear a tiny, almost imperceptible whisper, “You know what this is, Heather. Hang in there; you know it will pass.”
And yesterday in the middle of an emotional desolation so powerful it is physically palpable, I came across Psalm 100.
No, the Almighty was not having a go at me in some sadistic sort of fun. He was reminding me of something:
Know that the LORD, he is God! It is he who made us, and we are his; we are his people, and the sheep of his pasture.
(Psalms 100:3)
He is God. He made me, and flaws and all, I am His.
Because I am His sheep, He will never leave me wandering, lost and lonely, without finding me and bringing me back into the fold. He will not leave me desolate. He is the Good Shepherd, and He has already given His life for me. That glimpse of hell is just that: a glimpse, perhaps peeped from a distance on a grueling section of the narrow path.
And because of all that, even in the blackest depths I can give Him thanks. Even in the midst of pain, I can praise Him
Enter his gates with thanksgiving, and his courts with praise! Give thanks to him; bless his name! For the LORD is good; his steadfast love endures forever, and his faithfulness to all generations.
(Psalms 100:4-5)
Running the Race 