Jesus or a Train

Image courtesy of Dan at FreeDigitalPhotos.net

I read a post on Facebook last night, right before I FINALLY fell asleep, that reminded me that I am not alone in the battle against chronic illness. She said that it was hard to even lay in bed because it hurt too much. I was feeling the same thing, but for some reason, praying for her became a priority. The simple act of putting someone else in front helped me, and if only for a few minutes, forget that I was in pain too.

 

This morning I was reading in Psalm 88:1-7


1 O LORD, the God who saves me, day and night I cry out before you. 2 May my prayer come before you; turn your ear to my cry. 3 For my soul is full of trouble and my life draws near the grave. 4 I am counted among those who go down to the pit; I am like a man without strength. 5 I am set apart with the dead, like the slain who lie in the grave, whom you remember no more, who are cut off from your care. 6 You have put me in the lowest pit, in the darkest depths. 7 Your wrath lies heavily upon me; you have overwhelmed me with all your waves.


Psalm 88 is one of the saddest, most desperate Psalms written. At least, in my opinion it is. It seems to me to have been written in a time of desperation. It seems as if David was begging God to hear his cry.


13 But I cry to you for help, O LORD; in the morning my prayer comes before you.

If you have a chronic illness or deal with chronic pain you have more than likely felt this way. I know there have been times when I have begged God to hear me, to pay attention to me. How long was this supposed to go on before God cared enough about me to stop it? What had I done that was so bad that I deserved this? Why did God allow His children to suffer, when people who did bad things all the time were prospering and healthy? I see news stories of women who hurt their children. Why did God allow them to get pregnant and not me? I heard about people cheating on their spouses, yet had more money than they could spend in a lifetime. I read stories of people who turned their backs on God but were successful in business.

I am reminded of a quote by Charles Spurgeon:

"I am certain that I never did grow in grace one-half so much anywhere as I have upon the bed of pain." 

I have to ask myself, do I care more about having more children than I care about my relationship with God? At least God has not asked me to do what He asked of Abraham. My son is a healthy, hormonal, bundle of attitude and know-it-all teenager—I wouldn't trade him for 20 more children. I need to thank God for what I have and not focus on what I don't. Does it mean my arms still don't ache for Cameron or for the other babies I lost. No, it doesn't, but I cannot live for what is gone, only for what is here.

I have always been faithful to Jim and Jim to me, but we still have struggles. Why is it fair that people who are not faithful have successful lives and money to do whatever they want? The question then becomes, is money what is important? One of my favorite things to do with Jim is to go to IKEA and dream about what our kitchen would look like if we had the chance to design it. What would be our perfect kitchen? Would it be white, maple, dark? Would the cabinets have a design? What about the glass in the doors? Would there be glass? Would it be frosted or plain? What about our stove and refrigerator? What kind of dishes would we have? Would Jim and I have had these moments together if we already had that kitchen? Would we have anything to dream about?

When Jim and I were engaged and even some before that we knew that God was going to use us as a team! Would Jim and I still be the team that God could use if we were handed everything and didn't have to work together to achieve it? I have told Stephen before that we appreciate things much more if we have to work for them. I think God is allowing us moments together to dream about what could be, so we are willing to continue to work together, the way He planned.

I despise being sick. I hate not being able to just wake up in the morning and do whatever I want that day without worrying about if it is going to rain (when Fibromyalgia gets worse) or wondering the night before if I was going to get enough sleep to be able to function mentally as well as physically. Would I catch something if I went to the store? When I do go to the store, do I have an antibacterial wipe to clean the cart handles? Do I have a mask in case someone is coughing? Do I have gloves in case I want to touch something? It isn't always this bad. This is primarily during cold and flu season but with a very compromised immune system it is ALWAYS a risk. 

The question then is—would Jim and I have the relationship we have if I didn't have to depend on him for so much? Would Jim be the husband and Father he is if he didn't have to do the things he does for me? Would Stephen be as gentle and attentive if I weren't sick? Don't get me wrong, I don't believe God makes us sick. I do believe that He allows the sickness in order to teach us something. He has allowed me to be sick to teach us how to be a family, to teach me how to trust Him. Maybe if I hadn't been so stubborn and pig-headed it wouldn't have taken so long to teach me.

We just celebrated Easter. On Good Friday, Stephen and I talked about what Jesus did for us on the cross. Then we talked about Sunday. All weekend I would say to him, "Friday is over; what is coming?" He would smile and say, "SUNDAY!" Friday would have not meant anything without Sunday. The same way that the suffering we have would not mean anything without God being able to use it to show His power. I can take my pain and leave it at the foot of the cross. If I really leave it there and don't go back later and pick it up, thinking I can take care of it better than He can, things get easier. The pain may not go away but it gets easier to bear because I am not doing it alone.

Living with chronic illness or chronic pain makes you feel like you are living a nightmare.  You are lost in the darkness of a long tunnel.

Image courtesy of moggara12 at FreeDigitalPhotos.net

You keep trying to find the way out of the tunnel to freedom from pain but the tunnel just keeps going. You keep moving and moving trying to escape the desperation you feel. You have to keep going and moving because if you don't, the feelings and the pain will overtake you. You feel the walls of the tunnel closing in. You try different paths (medications, treatments, etc.) but they don't help and you just get deeper and deeper into the cave of despair. You keep searching for a light that would mean you have found the end of the tunnel. You are desperate for that light. Sometimes there is a panic deep inside of you that is frightening because you HAVE TO FIND THE LIGHT!

I think I finally have seen a glimmer of that light. I am not feeling better necessarily. In fact, as I am writing this I have a cold. Stephen got one, brought it home and shared it. So far, it is only a mild cold. Hopefully, resting and staying warm will keep it that way. I still have no energy. I am still in pain, but since I started reading my Bible again and praying regularly it has helped. Since I took all of the pain and hurts and frustrations and laid them at the foot of the cross, I have begun to see a light. I don't know if that is the light of healing or if it is Jesus telling me that if I come to Him he will not only carry the pain but carry me as well until I can walk again on my own. I kind of believe it is the latter. I KNOW that Jesus will walk with me, beside me, in front of me and behind me to protect, guide and carry me if necessary, until I am able to walk again on my own. He is the light at the end of the tunnel. I KNOW He is.

Psalm 46:10
Be still and know that I am God.  

That is my peace. That is what I tell myself when I am afraid, or when I hurt, when I can't sleep, when I am desperate and when I feel like I can't see the "Jesus" light in my tunnel. I say that verse over and over to myself until I find peace.

My prayer is very simple:

Jesus, may you be the hope at the end of my tunnel. May you be the glimmer of light that I see. May it please be you and not a train.

Blessings to you all.