Migraine Musings Part III
Photo by Stephan Wiesner on Unsplash
Lesson 3: God fights for us in our helplessness
“The Lord, Himself will fight for you. You need only to be still.”
When I get a migraine I begin a very specific and practiced ritual. First, I take my medicine (a strong painkiller). Second, I eat something simple like a sandwich or toast and drink a large glass of water. Third, (usually while the bread for my sandwich is being toasted) I cancel my plans for the rest of the day, notify the people who need to cover for me, and turn my phone on silent. Fourth, I find a cool, dark, and comfortable place to lie down. Fifth and finally, I go through a meditative practice of systematically relaxing every muscle in my body from my toes to my nose. I usually fall asleep by the end of this practice. If not, I pray, repeat a bible verse or tell myself a story until the pain passes.
It’s taken me twenty years to figure out that routine. Some aspects are active; like taking medicine or eating toast and drinking water. Those parts of my routine had some trial and error (does mac and cheese work better than sandwiches? No. Should I drink caffeine instead of water? Also no.); but overall they were easy to pin down and are pretty simple to execute, even in the midst of the intensity of migraine pain. The harder aspects of my routine, by far, aren't the things I do. The hardest part is when I have done all I can do and still the pain persists and I must stop doing and be with it. The hardest part is the acquiescence (the reluctant acceptance of something without protest), the letting go, and finally the release.
I release the stress in my body.
I release expectations: The ones I have for myself and the ones others have for me.
I release the ideas of what any given day or week or month might look like.
I release the belief that if I just push hard enough, long enough, or ferociously enough this will all go away.
You can’t wish a migraine away. You can’t pray it away, or punch it away, or medicate it away. A migraine is an immovable force that crashes into your whole body.
Regardless, I have come to trust in the fact that eventually, whether it’s hours or days or weeks later, the pain will end, the fog will lift, and life will be full again. And in the meantime, God is fighting for me. It’s that faith that allows me to be patient as the next wave of pain comes through my temples, to breathe through another bout of nausea, and fight the panic I feel when my chest and throat are numb.
Similarly to the unknown length of my migraines, I also don’t know how long it will be until we have a vaccine for this virus, or proven ways to treat it so the risks aren’t so high. I don’t know when we will figure out as a society how to live in such a way that transmission isn’t so rampant and people with risk factors don’t get so terribly ill.
Here’s what I do know. I know that there are people working frantically to find solutions. Scientists testing vaccines. Hospitals trying various treatments. Facilities manufacturing tests and PPE. Nurses, doctors and hospital staff working around the clock to test and treat people. These people are fighting, and fighting hard. God is fighting alongside them.
I also know that most of the people reading this aren’t in the above category of people who have work directly linked to the virus. For us, the work is about digging deep into our reserves of patience. The well of fortitude we draw from is filled with trust that even as we are waiting, God is working. This trust pushes us to exchange raging against restrictions for embracing boundaries because it’s the best way to love our neighbor. Resting in the cool waters of God’s promises to care for us even, perhaps especially, when the only thing we can do is to not do anything at all.
The funny thing about migraines is that you can’t ignore them. You can’t pretend they aren’t there. If you don’t treat them, the pain grows almost unbearable, vomiting leads to dehydration and you grow so exhausted that getting out of bed is impossible. The same things happen when you push back too much on a migraine, when you try to rage and thrash against it. The harder you push against a migraine the worse it gets.
In our culture we are hardwired to believe that anything we encounter, we should be able to defeat through sheer force of will, and that if we can’t defeat something it is because of our own failure at not having fought hard enough. But if we do find ourselves faced with defeat we either must deny that defeat as if it is not real or admit to our own helplessness. Denying reality often seems to be a better option since our society sees being helpless as a mortal sin. As a result, we are encouraged to ignore ugly truths and impossible situations that would force us to face our own helplessness in even more ways. We hear over and over again that the greatest failure is to give up and stop fighting, to lay down and die as it were. In this common phrase, we literally equate helplessness to death.
But the demonization of helplessness, and all the actions we take to avoid helplessness, are absolutely unbiblical. The entire narrative of Israel consists of God’s faithfulness amidst human helplessness. The Spirit moves in magnificent ways when humans admit their mistakes and limitations and get out of the way.
When we release our expectations and give up our plans; when we stop pushing so damn hard for what we want to happen, God always ALWAYS steps forward with a vision for our lives that is better than we could ever imagine for ourselves.
As we begin the second half of 2020, a second wave of this virus is racing across our country, protests against racial, gender and economic inequality continue, and our children and schools face an uncertain future. The reality is that we are not going back to “normal” anytime soon, and maybe, normal wasn’t actually all that great to begin with. I grieve that. I really do. I also believe firmly, that as our “normal” fades away, and we realize the depth of our failures and limitations as people and a society, the magnitude of God’s power becomes more evident in the rebuilding of a better world.
That rebuilding is going to take equal parts action and acquiescence; that sometimes reluctant, sometimes joyful admitting of our own helplessness; a knowledge that fighting what is being asked of us will ultimately hurt all of us more; patience and communal power; movement when God calls us to move and restraint when we need to step out of the way. Most importantly, it will require of us the faith to allow God to fight for us, to guide us, by letting go of our fight and being still enough to hear His word.