When Job Is My Portion

~ Heather Davis ~ 6 Comments

This past Saturday, I woke to one of Tennessee’s typical grey winter days. After reading my morning portion of the Word, I caved in to my Aussie’s pleading stares and vocalizations. A quick check of the weather app assured me the looming clouds would not spill over for “at least 60 minutes,” nonetheless, I donned my rain gear and set off with the furry victor happily trotting at my side. Since my portion is in Job at present, it seemed appropriate to me to listen to said book while I walked to enhance my morning’s reading, and I decided to backtrack and listen from Job chapter 1.

The weather app lied.

About a half-mile into my walk, a misty drizzle started. It was fairly warmish and the drizzle was light, so I decided to keep going. Besides, my poor pooch had already missed several walks this winter due to my state’s bipolar weather and my own health issues. As I passed the lake, I noted my friend the limpkin still inexplicably hanging out at the water’s edge despite being a good 450-odd miles from the northern edge of his typical range – not to mention last week’s snowpocalypse.

He stared at me as I passed, possibly wondering why the crazy human trudges through the mist and still stops to snap photos of him. Good question. I moved on, listening to Job’s lament and feeling a bit dissatisfied with my choice. But I kept walking.

About halfway through my short route, the drizzle picked up to a light rain. By this time, Eliphaz, Bildad, and Zophar had begun their potshots and part of my mind drifted to my own times of trial. The rain lent a dismal ambience to perfectly complement the audio.

When the light rain began to drift toward downpour, I debated the merits of fighting the rain for control over my phone’s screen to make a call. Instead, I put my head down and determined to finish the last 3/4 mile or so as quickly as possible. Then I saw movement. Through the raindrops coating my glasses, a familiar vehicle drew near.

My husband had noted the increase in damp and come to my rescue. Hallelujah!

The whole experience reminded me of a dark and dismal time in my life. Like Job, I’d lost a lot (though not all). The people I’d called “friend” abandoned me in my hour of need, and I felt myself alone, groping through a cold and misty waste with nowhere to turn. Then out of nowhere, as I trudged ahead in a grim and hopeless determination, my Rescuer appeared.

I found the Word of God – not just the Book but the Redeemer it speaks of: Yeshua Messiah, Jesus the Christ, Immanuel, God-With-Us. My Lord and my God. In my darkest hour, in abject fury and despair, I shouted my unbelief and unbelievably, He came to my rescue anyway.

He took me under the shelter of His wings and slowly began the work of healing my wounded heart, untwining the deeply-rooted sins that infected my soul, and cleaning up the mess I’d made. My journey since then has still had moments of despondency and pain, but I now have a safe and warm destination to look forward to.

Just as my husband picked me up and drove me home, my Lord and Savior is carrying me through the murk of life. And I know that someday, He will bring me Home. This is what I keep in mind when Job’s lot seems to be my portion. Even without the Book, Job himself clung to this hope and kept going.

My friend, so can you.

For I know that my Redeemer lives, and at the last he will stand upon the earth. And after my skin has been thus destroyed, yet in my flesh I shall see God.

(Job 19:25-26)

What If?

~ Heather Davis ~ 10 Comments

Reading through one of my (admittedly many) favorite biblical stories today – the story of Joseph – caused me to reflect on my own selfishness. Too often in my walk with the Lord, I’ve asked the wrong questions, particularly when things don’t go the way I think they ought. But what if instead of placing myself at the center of the story, I accepted all events as part of the unfolding plan of the Faithful God?

Know therefore that the LORD your God is God, the faithful God who keeps covenant and steadfast love with those who love him and keep his commandments, to a thousand generations…

Deuteronomy 7:9

What if I recognized that I am only one of billions of elements incorporated into His composition – a design so intricate and far-reaching, the first stroke was laid ages before my birth; a masterpiece encompassing more details than my mind can fathom spanning the breadth of eternity? What if I simply trusted the Almighty’s sure hand instead of wrapping myself in faithless despair at the first glimpse of a speck of darkness?

In fact, what if all of us who claim Yeshua Messiah (Christ Jesus) as our Lord laid down our limited understanding and trusted in His limitless sovereignty?

Now that would be something indeed.

So Joseph said to his brothers, “Come near to me, please.” And they came near. And he said, “I am your brother, Joseph, whom you sold into Egypt. And now do not be distressed or angry with yourselves because you sold me here, for God sent me before you to preserve life.

Genesis 45:4-5

I’m reminded by Joseph’s words that my story isn’t really mine. The little length of my life is less than a fleck of paint in the Creator’s magnum opus.

I can make myself miserable by questioning events so far beyond my purview, I wouldn’t understand them fully even if the Eternal One let me in on the wheres, whys, and hows. Or I can be at peace, resting in the goodness of the One who does know, and humbly performing the tasks, no matter how trivial, He gives me to do each day.

Keeping my eyes on my troubles and inviting doubt and misery, or fixing my eyes on the Lord and embracing trust and peace.

It’s not a difficult choice when broken down into the simplest elements.

Diagnosis

~ Heather Davis ~ 2 Comments

“That’s not a diagnosis; it’s why I’m here.”

Frustration hardened my voice, drawing a sigh from my doctor. She replied, “We’ve literally tested you for everything, and it IS a diagnosis. There may not be a blood test yet but there are diagnostic criteria, and you do have the hallmark symptom of post exertional malaise. Trust me, this is it. Do your research.”

So much for the hope of something treatable.

A diagnosis of ME/CFS is kind of like being told you have a virus, only the symptoms won’t improve in a couple of weeks. No treatment, no definitive disease course, no cure. Yet this obstacle felt minor compared to the despair I felt in my former life as an atheist.

In those days, I could see the world was a mess. Everywhere I looked, I saw a profound brokenness; a sickness for which I could find neither explanation nor cure. Even mirrors reflected the malady so I avoided them when possible. On my own, single and careless if not quite carefree, I could stomach the ugliness. I even participated; a hopeless if-you-can’t-beat-’em-join-’em mentality.

But on the day I stared down at twin pink lines on a pregnancy test, the weight of the world’s horrors squeezed the air from my lungs.

Could I bring a child into this dismal world where evil lurked in broad daylight; where wars and kidnappings and murders were so commonplace that the news needed something splashier to capture the attention of a calloused public? Was it even moral to consider ushering an innocent life into such depravity?

These were the questions that drove me to my search for truth, and in doing so, I discovered there is not only a definitive diagnosis for the world’s disease, there is also a cure.

Imagine my relief.

The world’s diagnosis is simple: sin.

It’s hard to believe so much atrocity and sorrow can be encompassed by three letters of the English language, and yet it’s true. We live in an age that discounts sin as old-fashioned while failing to grasp the far-reaching devastation it brings.

Instead of measuring right and wrong against a set standard, we prefer to measure our choices against other rights and wrongs. “Sure, I’ve told a lie or two, but at least I’m not a murderer.”

We compare ourselves to Hitler or Charles Manson and feel confident that we aren’t that bad. But we are. The infection is so great, we don’t even see how it’s warped our very understanding.

Instead of being measurable against itself, sin is far more like cancer. One tiny cancer cell multiplies rapidly until the entire organism’s resources are taxed. Cancer, untreated, leads to death. Sin is no different but it is more complicated. Cancer affects only the organism it lives within; sin affects everything and everyone.

Like ripples a water droplet causes in a body of water, sin’s malignancy spreads out and disrupts other people and other elements of this world. To trace the influence of the myriad sins even of a single human being would be tantamount to documenting the impact and reverberation of every single ripple caused by each drop of rain in a hurricane.

However, the world and its inhabitants are not affected by a single person’s sin but by the collective sins of all people of all times. Only an all-powerful, all-knowing Being could sort it all out. And indeed, that’s exactly what happened.

God, the Creator who spoke the world and all its complexity into existence, understands the hopeless mangling of His creation caused by sin. He who created humanity that we might share His love also allowed us – as love must – to choose for ourselves whether or not we will share in it. And when each and every one of us rejected His love for the fleeting pleasure of deciding for ourselves what is and is not good and right, He saw the mess we made of things – and He had compassion.

As a father shows compassion to his children, so the Lord shows compassion to those who fear Him. For He knows our frame; He remembers that we are dust.

Psalm 103:13-14

To me, this still comes as a shock.

The human response to a creation that defies and destroys would be anger, frustration, annihilation. But God had compassion for us rebels.

His compassion led to the cure for sin – a cure that I’ll be the first to admit sounds unbelievable. He sent His Son to live as human beings were meant to live – in obedience to His created structure – and then to die as a willing sacrifice to pay the price for sin.

For the wages of sin is death, but the free gift of God is eternal life in Christ Jesus our Lord.

Romans 6:23

Though the Son of God and Son of Man may have clothed Himself in death, He didn’t wear it forever. By the mystery of melded God and flesh and the unwarranted compassion of the Creator who became a part of His own creation, He died. Then He left death behind, discarded along with his grave cloth. He not only accepted the penalty for sin, He overcame it.

Death is swallowed up in victory.
O death, where is your victory?
O death, where is your sting?

1 Corinthians 15:55

Now because of Yeshua Messiah, Jesus the Christ, all we who are hopelessly infected with sin can choose to die to sin by putting our desire to be in charge to death. Then, free from the stranglehold of sin, we can also discard death as a useless garment and walk into true and everlasting life.

The journey starts now, and we must each choose our path. Choose wisely. There are only two options: either the path of sin leading only to death, or the Way of Messiah Yeshua by which we put sin to death and are gifted with life and peace- glorious, true and abundant.

There is only one cure for the cancer of the soul, and His name is Yeshua (Jesus). But like all cures, it is up to each person to accept it and apply it.

Cult of Death; Gift of Life

~ Heather Davis ~ 2 Comments

For to set the mind on the flesh is death, but to set the mind on the Spirit is life and peace…
So then, brothers, we are debtors, not to the flesh, to live according to the flesh. For if you live according to the flesh you will die, but if by the Spirit you put to death the deeds of the body, you will live.

Romans 8:6, 12–13 (ESV)

When facing an enemy that has stated it loves death more than others love life, what is the best step forward?

This is not only the question facing Israel in the current war against Hamas and the looming threat of other militant Islamic groups surrounding them, it’s truly the question we all face daily.

The greatest enemy isn’t Islam. It isn’t a group of people with radical ideology, its neither the Left nor the Right or any other human being at all. Our greatest enemy is far more ancient. He craves death and relishes it like fine wine. Lies are his native tongue, and he delights in threading chaos through both warp and weft of human relations. He inhales decay as a sweet savor and exhales ruin. He gloats as the world squabbles and burns.

You are of your father the devil, and your will is to do your father’s desires. He was a murderer from the beginning, and does not stand in the truth, because there is no truth in him. When he lies, he speaks out of his own character, for he is a liar and the father of lies.

John 8:44, ESV

I can’t help but feel great grief for Israel, but I feel an equal sorrow for the people dominated by radical Islam. In their own holy book, it is written that lying is permissible in cases of war, and in some hadith it is stated that there is a continual war against infidels who are enemies of Allah. It’s permissible to lie to convert the world to Islam, and death is the alternative to conversion. The zealous followers who drink this philosophy for breakfast believe they serve God, but if Allah is a god then he is the god of this world.

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.’

Matthew 4:8–10 (ESV)

If a man dies only to bring death and chaos to others, it is a sad thing for all. This is the mission given to many poor souls who fight so fervently for their own destruction. I shudder to think of what happens when the rewards they believed they would gain turn out to be just another lie.

Yet the call of the Lord Jesus is a call to put to death the “deeds of the body” – all that is unholy and evil within ourselves – hatred, envy, deceit, strife, lust, self-worship. When Bonhoeffer said, “When Christ calls a man, He bids him come and die,” he doesn’t mean we die to bring death to others. It is death to self.

We put to death what is deadly to others and to our own spirits so that we may not only gain life, we can give it as well. Sin is death and always brings a death. Yet for the sake of putting sin to death, many who live for Christ are accused of the very evils they are at war against. This is why:

Yet for your sake we are killed all the day long; we are regarded as sheep to be slaughtered.

Psalm 44:22, Romans 8:6

It’s been a curious irony to feast on Romans 8 against the backdrop of wars and rumors of war. On one hand, my heart grieves for the world as it burns with fury and with physical fire. On the other, I welcome the suffering because I know they :are not worth comparing with the glory that is to be revealed in us” (Romans 8:18) – those of us who are in Christ, that is.

My heart sings with gratitude for the Light of the world who healed my blind eyes, opened my unhearing ears, and unshackled my mind from the lies of the evil one’s domain. It also keens for all souls who do not know the goodness of God or who, doubting His goodness, refuse to obey His good and gentle Way.

But mostly, I rejoice because I am my Beloved’s and He is mine. No matter what happens to my body, I am free; free from the law of sin and death, free from the fear of suffering, and free to live fully for the One who once died and rose again.

Oh how I long for the adherents of the death cults to turn and accept the free gift of life! They could stop conquering mere humanity and become more than conquerors, given over to love, and never separated from the goodness of God again in this world or the one to come. How I long for all people to come to this hope!

No, in all these things we are more than conquerors through him who loved us. For I am sure that neither death nor life, nor angels nor rulers, nor things present nor things to come, nor powers, nor height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord.

Romans 8:37-38

Slave No More

~ Heather Davis ~ 2 Comments


For when you were slaves of sin, you were free in regard to righteousness. But what fruit were you getting at that time from the things of which you are now ashamed? For the end of those things is death.

Romans 6:20–21 (ESV)

A bit ago, a young man I admire made a social media post featuring a photo of a modern novel and verbiage indicating he couldn’t put it down. Always up for a good read, I mentally earmarked the book and snagged a copy before a little getaway.

The first paragraph of the book and its first sentence share dual primacy – a pleasant beginning for one who hungers for meaty sentences and an author who can carry a complex thought from initial capital through commas & semicolons, direct & indirect objects, lists, harmonizing subjects & verbs, delectable modifiers, and well-fleshed clauses all the way through to a satisfying conclusion ending in appropriate punctuation.

The book and I were off to a good start.

Then too much reality crept into the story, bringing with it the inevitable carnal brutality of a world under the curse. Admittedly, the dialog did fit the themes of 1990s-era video gamers and programmers, but as the plot progressed from two kids finding community around an old game console in a hospital to the female lead finding herself in an affair with an older (and married) man, I found myself quite able to put the book down.

Each time I laid it down, I grew more reluctant to pick it up again until I finally gave up about a third of the way in and dropped it into the library’s after-hours collection.

In fairness, the novel is well written. There are some excellent word pictures, a stark exploration of human relationships, and a unique backdrop built on the progression of video games. But I didn’t make it into the novel’s turn of the century.

So why did I find this novel – well written by my own admission – so put-downable? I believe it hit far too close to home for me. It wasn’t that I couldn’t relate to the characters; it was that the female character, despite having both the wealth and direction I lacked in my youth, struck a chord or two of familiarity. She was profoundly lost.

In fact, all the lead characters were lost. The college professor was not only lost but predatory, reminding me eerily of a time in young adulthood when I made an easy mark for a much older man – who just so happened to be into PC gaming. In the late 1990s, I even had a part to play in co-running a BBS (bulletin board system) running a multi-player Doom game over dial-up on additional phone lines run to my rental house. Close to home indeed.

The real-life version of the older man was also controlling, though much older and less appealing than the fictional character. Instead, he is part of the reason I never finished college and all of the reason the smells of whiskey and weed or the sound of a modem handshake make my stomach seize.

In fact, the book reminded me of far too many things of which I am now ashamed; things I long to impart to this younger generation filled with their guileless wonder at the complexity of life and relationships and the novelty of playing with fire, even if only vicariously. To each new generation, the world is new and interesting and relatively harmless – until it is not.

How can I relate this? There is no poetry wrought in the chains of sin, no charm in the Christless human condition, no velvet allure to the darkness. Without God, there is only need and hopelessness and a striving after the wind.

All streams run to the sea,
but the sea is not full;
to the place where the streams flow,
there they flow again.
All things are full of weariness;
a man cannot utter it;
the eye is not satisfied with seeing,
nor the ear filled with hearing.
What has been is what will be,
and what has been done is what will be done,
and there is nothing new under the sun.

Ecclesiastes 1:7–9 (ESV)

Perhaps redemption came in the novel. Perhaps the characters found hope outside of human love and mere friendship or success. Perhaps. But while the old memories it dredged up are helpful to remind me what I was saved from, I found more sorrow in the pages of the novel than beauty or interest.

I’m incredibly thankful to be free of that clutching, devouring darkness. What an indescribable gift to belong to the Light of the World who gives goodness, joy, and hope in place of ashes and chains! I can only pray for others to find the Way and follow it and be faithful to share how the Great Redeemer found me wearing slave’s shackles and set me free.

Wretched man that I am! Who will deliver me from this body of death? Thanks be to God through Jesus Christ our Lord!

Romans 7:24–25 (ESV)

He Who Feeds the Birds Feeds Me

~ Heather Davis ~ 12 Comments

Look at the birds of the air: they neither sow nor reap nor gather into barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not of more value than they?

Matthew 6:25

I’ve had a lot on my mind lately. Unsaved friends and family members. Uncertainty whether one of my part-time jobs is making the best use of time (see Ephesians 5:15-16). Frustration this former gym-rat can’t even do three reps of 10-pound weights for a week without causing a crash. Concern for friends and loved ones who are sick or in pain.

A crazed world addicted to entertainment, sex, fury, and power as its residents seem to operate in a bizarre digital fugue.

And which of you by being anxious can add a single hour to his span of life?

Matthew 6:27

To be honest, there’s not much I can do about any of it, so I take the names and the questions to the throne of grace and lay them at the feet of the One who controls the wind and the waves. He knows what to do. I only need to wait and trust Him.

And maybe ask for His help to bolster my fragile trust when it cracks under pressure.

One way I do this is by unplugging; by spending time outside in the world He created and ruminating on His Word, His goodness, and by no means least, His creativity and care for the world He created.

And as I engaged in this exercise last week, I had the pleasure of discovering not one, but two edible plants growing right in my own yard. The research was fun, the tasting more so, and the whole experience reminded me that the God who feeds the birds and clothes the grass of the fields in splendor will take care of His children, too.

Therefore do not be anxious, saying, ‘What shall we eat?’ or ‘What shall we drink?’ or ‘What shall we wear?’

Matthew 6:31

Although we’ve had the kousa dogwood for years, I’ve somehow overlooked its odd-shaped fruit. Perhaps the time yours truly once threw a vehicle into reverse instead of park and only realized ther error after said vehicle continued to move and drag our hapless heroine into the branches of the little tree at the beginning of the dogwood’s maturity may have something to do with it. But who can say?

Either way, this year I did notice, took my pics (not my best work, I admit), and did my research.

After harvesting the fruit, I cut a couple open and found the inside to be very sweet, if a little grainy. Unfortunately, I believe the deer discovered the edible nature of the berries before I did, so my harvest was light this year. Next year, I’ll be watching.

I stumbled upon my next foraging adventure while investigating the fence line recently exposed by our neighbor’s newly-declared war on a ravenous wisteria vine. Small, blackish berries caught my eye and I bent down to find the unripe versions resembled miniature watermelons.

Captivated by these beauties, I took a few shots. Then I took a few more due to my own irritation at my failed Kousa pics combined with furry bestie’s helpful schnoz keeping the fruit from stillness. After banishing the beastie to the indoors, I finally managed some less blurry and less furry shots of the fruit, though the breeze and the tremor of my hands were such that the tiny flower eluded me.

  • What?

The plant turned out to be black nightshade, an edible wild relative of tomatoes and bell peppers. I harvested a few of the ripe berries and was pleasantly surprised by the flavor of a sweet midget tomato. I’m watching for the next batch to ripen and hope to grace my next salad with a handful.

All the exploration served to remind me that my God is truly good. Even if the world completes its journey to hell in a handbasket, just as the Book says it certainly will, my Father will continue to care for His creatures and His children. There is no hell in His presence, and by happy coincidence, that is precisely where I desire to dwell.

But seek first the kingdom of God and his righteousness, and all these things will be added to you. “Therefore do not be anxious about tomorrow, for tomorrow will be anxious for itself. Sufficient for the day is its own trouble.

Matthew 6:33-34

Oh me of little faith…

Reflections of an Introvert

~ Heather Davis ~ 1 Comment

Confession: I am quite happy in the company of no one other than my heavenly Father for days at a time. I can literally spend hours inspecting the structure of a spider’s web, angling my camera to capture just the right shot of a dew-covered beetle, or contemplating the Scriptures while watching birds forage.

Before Christ, I clung to the notion that people were too people-y for me to deal with, particularly since they kept having birthdays and parties and such. The burden of being social sorely taxed the selfishness of Old Me.

Then there was the issue of my mental self-image, which began in the latter part of the 1900s (as my offspring are so fond of reminding me) and persisted for an indecent stretch of years into the new century. If you can imagine a creature a bit like a female version of Pigpen from Peanuts gifted with a less wholesome adaptation of King Midas’s curse where her very presence caused the immediate vicinity to putrefy, you have a sanitized picture of what Young Me saw in the mirror.

The sense of myself as a thing worthy of contempt coupled with something very like a phobia of “normal” people did not lend itself to the development of healthy relationships. But since nature abhors a vacuum, as the common rendering of Aristotle’s postulation goes, Old Me found herself enmeshed in unhealthy relationships, one after another, for no small amount of years.

Thus, Old Me learned to find comfort in solitude. That is, until God stepped into the picture.

Crazy how the Creator of all things visible and invisible can take a person who is perfectly uncomfortable brooding on her own beastliness and turn her inside out. Good thing, too, because it got crowded in my head, what with the piling up of decomposing dreams and the choking dust cloud of self-focus.

So it is that I find myself now – decades after this rather harrowing but necessary rearrangement of my entire being – learning how to people with the best of them. This, I assure you, is quite despite my best efforts to convince the All-Knowing One how little I know about peopling.

Alas, His power is made perfect in my weakness, as He reminded me first through childbearing, then homeschooling, then as a teacher, and on and on to whatever is next. I don’t need to be a good peopler; I just need Him.

This brings me to one of my latest lessons.

Throughout the Book, there are countless commands given that necessitate the presence and fellowship of people. Jesus tells us, “Love one another as I have loved you,” (John 13:24) – a thing I cannot do if I only contemplate the Word in the company of beetles and dew.

In Matthew 6:14-15, Colossians 3:12-14, and Ephesians 4:32, to name a tiny percentage, I am reminded that the forgiveness I’ve received from God in Christ is for extending to others, not for hoarding. What’s more, I cannot forgive if I have not been hurt by others, and I cannot be hurt by others if I avoid them.

Thus, my Lord recently gave me the words to articulate a lesson He’s taught me in practice over the last decade or so: if His Word commands us to gather with others (and I believe it does, both subtly and overtly), I am responsible for obeying this command and cannot wait on others to do so.

And let us consider how to stir up one another to love and good works, not neglecting to meet together, as is the habit of some, but encouraging one another, and all the more as you see the Day drawing near.

Hebrews 10:24-25

Much to Old Me’s woe, this is true even if I am the proverbial new kid on the block. What I mean is, if I am commanded to people in order to practice the one-anothers and grow in grace and obedience, I can’t afford to sit back and wait until someone takes notice of me and invites me in. I need to pursue the companionship of others myself.

For a natural introvert, that can be a daunting ask. Yet it is also a profound act of trust in God to step out in obedience, denying my natural inclination to remain alone, and follow Him.

As my pastor often says, “If you can’t say amen, say ouch.“

However, for my fellow introverts out there in the world, take heart! Obeying God never brings insecurity or gloom but only exposes our internal ick to the fresh air of His Spirit and the cleansing Light of His Presence. The first steps may be scary, but take them anyway.

By choosing to seek out community for the sake of trust in the One who laid down His life for me, I’ve been blessed beyond words – through people. I’ve learned to people better from people who are good at peopling, and I’ve learned the joys of exercising love and forgiveness in the process.

So get out there. Invite folks over for dinner or coffee, and keep doing it until something sticks. I can’t promise it will be easy, but I can promise if you do it for the Lord, it will be worth it.

Migraine Phase Four | Postdrome

~ Heather Davis ~ 2 Comments

And he said to them, “Why are you afraid, O you of little faith?” Then he rose and rebuked the winds and the sea, and there was a great calm.

Matthew 8:26

If the prodrome is the seething fury of the storm to come and the headache phase is the tempest, the postdrome is the hazy brightness in a summer storm’s wake. Sure, there’s a bit of vegetal wreckage strewn about. There may be dark clouds menacing the horizon and possibly a distant rumble or dim stab of lightning, but the worst is over.

That’s not a bad description of the prodrome. It reminds me of those midsummer Tennessee thunderstorms that rage and leave behind a humidity so thick you can taste it. The prodrome leaves me feeling a sort of pregnant emptiness, as if my mind were full of static and my limbs full of lead. There’s little to no pain, save the occasional aftershocks, but things just aren’t quite working again, either.

It’s not an interesting stage, and there isn’t much to say about it. Before I knew the proper term – and honestly, even to this day – I’d always referred to this as a migraine hangover.

It’s here in the wretched meh-ness of the postdrome that I often find myself marveling at the incredible goodness of a God who would wrap Himself in this mess on purpose, just to rescue a handful of rebels who will see Him, understand the unfathomable depths of His love, and find rest that nothing on earth can provide.

And the men marveled, saying, “What sort of man is this, that even winds and sea obey him?”

Matthew 8:27

Come to me, all who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest.

Jesus of Nazareth – Matthew 11:29

Migraine Phase Three | The Attack

~ Heather Davis ~ 2 Comments

It is good for me that I was afflicted, that I might learn your statutes. The law of your mouth is better to me than thousands of gold and silver pieces.

Psalm 119:71-72

There’s not much funny about this phase. However, I can’t say there’s nothing good about it. But first, a couple of details: the attack or headache phase is the most straight-forward. It’s <drum roll> a headache!

But it is not just a headache. A migraine is a very distinct kind of headache, usually (but not always) one-sided with a pulsing, pounding, or throbbing quality. I used to liken the early sensation to a gong being rhythmically and silently struck behind my left eyeball, although that probably only makes sense if you’ve ever been close enough to a gong to feel the vibrations in your teeth – or if you happen to have migraines similar to mine.

Of course, medication helps in varying degrees, but without medication (and sometimes even with it ) there’s a lot that goes on.

Besides head pain, this phase also comes with a complement of varied and sometimes bizarre symptoms. Nausea, vomiting, confusion, fatigue, and sensitivity to light and sound are common for most migraineurs. And when I say nausea, I mean that you feel like you’re going to vomit if you move even an eyelash, you do vomit if you move even an eyelash, and you pray you can vomit in a dark, quiet place or else the pain quadruples (and if your stomach does rebel, the cool tile of the bathroom floor seems a perfectly sensible place to ride out the rest of the storm. After all, any attempt to exit the necessary room would only bring you back).

Aside from the typical complement of migraine headache symptoms, my personal little collection includes facial pain, muscle spasms in my neck or upper back, and a sensation that my heart is pounding along with an ability to hear or feel it pound in my left ear. In addition, my husband always tells me I feel feverish but I never have a fever. There’s also a kind of weird altered consciousness that I couldn’t describe if you asked me to – just a sense of everything being ever-so-slightly off.

I said earlier that the prodromal phase is the longest, but that’s only true when medication works. An unmedicated episodic migraine headache can last anywhere from four to 72 hours.

Then there’s chronic migraine.

For nearly a decade of my life, I had chronic migraine and “status migrainosus,” meaning a migraine that never really went away. You heard that right – a years-long headache that waxed and waned but never disappeared. And yes, it came with all of the above symptoms mixed in with prodromal and postdromal symptoms in a kind of general stew of unwellness; a sort of ouroboros of illness.

It was impossible to sort out, and much more than just a headache. But medication helps, and I literally praise God for triptans and for giving human beings the ability to concoct medications!

But let me circle back to my second statement of this post: there are good things about the headache phase.

It was during a medication-resistant migraine as I lay in a darkish room with my arm draped over my eyes that I first really grasped what the Lord Jesus did for humanity.

The thing is, I rebelled against my Creator, mocked Him, mocked His people, and tried to set myself up as my own little deity. For this, I deserve annihilation. Pain is a mercy, when you think about it, because pain is a signal that there’s something wrong. And if you deserve to be unmade, pain is a slap on the hand. Even after surrendering to the Lord, I fall short of holiness every day. Even my very best deeds are tainted by selfishness. If I may be brutal in my candor, I have become keenly aware of my own thirst for reciprocity or recognition and I would love to be free of it. I am far from selfless.

But the entire earthly life of Jesus exemplified selflessness. He did not deserve pain; He didn’t even deserve to don this moist and malfunctioning mess of meat, bone, nerve, and vessels we call a body.

The One through Whom all things were created didn’t deserve to submit to the humiliation of becoming an infant; of being hungry or thirsty or cold or any of the unpleasantness that comes of being human. And He most certainly did not deserve to have the eternal fellowship with the Father severed by taking on the foulness of my sin – not to mention the sins of the entire world – and endure an excruciating death devised by the twisted mind of His own creation.

Yet He entered into sorrow and anguish to pay the cost of all our sin in order that we could be free from it and once more enter into the Divine Presence by donning the righteousness of Jesus to cover our shame. Because of this, I have found a sweetness in my suffering and a unique fellowship with my Lord in pain.

Because of what He endured for me, I am even able to thank Him for the pain that helped me understand a little bit more. It is good for me that I was afflicted.

Migraine Phase Two | Aura

~ Heather Davis ~ Leave a comment

Have you not known? Have you not heard? The LORD is the everlasting God, the Creator of the ends of the earth. He does not faint or grow weary; his understanding is unsearchable. He gives power to the faint, and to him who has no might he increases strength.

Isaiah 40:28-29

Woah! Who changed the settings on gravity?

Were you aware that dizziness can be a part of migraine aura? Roughly a quarter of migraine sufferers, typically called migraineurs, experience aura around 20-60 minutes before the headache begins. Those who do get auras, don’t get them all the time.

And if you wondered if yours truly has an aura, the answer is: sometimes. I might have dizzy spells shortly before the headache starts. Other times, I see wavy lines around everything, kind of like the underwater effects from Aquaman sans dramatic hair flips and tattoos. But the strangest form of aura only occurs when the headache to come is going to be a doozy: my hands shake.

Yeah, it’s a little weird. This happened once in Grand Central Station as I chaperoned a bunch of sophomores on a field trip. They were sitting around a table eating lunch while I struggled to open the migraine rescue meds with shaking hands. They all stared at my fumbling fingers with wide eyes while I muttered, “Just a migraine coming. Nothing to worry about.”

I think my daughter’s nonchalance convinced them more than my words.

Whenever I do experience an aura, at least it’s clear what’s coming. It isn’t enjoyable, but it IS a reminder of my dependence on God. I may become dizzy and faint, but He never does. My body malfunctions; He does not. And even when I know that pain lies around the corner, He is the One who gives me the strength to endure and the peace to trust Him through it.

Anyway, when the aura occurs, it’s short – and so is this post.