A blog about the daily struggle of living with chronic pain written by a victim of a chronic illness. Topics include anxiety, suffering, anger, grief, and depression and are addressed from a Christian worldview.
"IS ANYONE AMONG YOU SUFFERING? Let him pray. Is anyone cheerful? Let him sing praise. Is anyone among you sick? Let him call for the elders of the church, and let them pray over him, anointing him with oil in the name of the Lord. AND THE PRAYER OF FAITH WILL SAVE THE ONE WHO IS SICK, and the Lord will raise him up. And if he has committed sins, he will be forgiven. Therefore, confess your sins to one another and pray for one another, that you may be healed. THE PRAYER OF THE RIGHTEOUS PERSON HAS GREAT POWER AS IT IS WORKING." (James 5:13-16)
Before I got sick, I worked in hospital emergency rooms as a deaconess. My job was to stay with the family while doctors and nurses rushed to save a loved one who'd either suddenly gotten sick or had been in an accident. I'd sit with them, bring them tissues, water, blankets, and coffee, call other family members for them, and I'd keep them updated on their loved one’s progress as best I could. But mostly, I'd PRAY. I'd pray that their loved one would be all right, and I'd listen as they fervently begged God to spare the life of their loved one, as they pleaded with Him and offered Him anything in return for their loved one's recovery. Sometimes the payers worked, and sometimes they didn't. The unending circle of tragedy and prayer seemed more like a game of Divine Whac-a-Mole than anything else, as my husband has so colorfully put it.
My prayers didn't have any more effect over the dying person's fate than the doctors and nurses seemed to have. In fact, it's very safe to say I had less. So all the times my prayers didn't work... Was I doing it wrong? Eh, James? Wasn't I faithful enough for my prayer to reach God's ears? Should I have meditated a little more on God's word before I asked Him for a favor? Did I need to go to confession first? Was my lack of faith the reason these people died??? Me, me, me, I, I, I... I'm just not that important. Nothing I can do, be, or say will make God do what I want Him to do, I don't care how “full of faith” I am. That's not what James is saying: God is not a vending machine.
Think about it: what's at the heart of all our prayers? Save me. Spare me. Give me five more minutes with my Mom. I need my Dad. I can't live without my wife. Help me keep my home, my job. Heal my brother, my child... Help me, O LORD. SAVE US. (Psalms 30, 38, 40, 70, 109...)
You guessed it. He did: on the cross. Unfortunately, in order to be raised up, we have to die first, just like Jesus did. So, is it possible that perhaps "to save" doesn't necessarily mean "to heal physically"? Yikes. That was a hard one for me to accept. I want to define everything: healing, salvation, help, love, peace... as being synonymous with comfortable because I want to be comfortable all the time. I don't want to be sad or to suffer, and I don't want anyone else to either, especially those I love. But like a child with an affinity for Mountain Dew, what I want isn't always what is right.
So, why bother praying at all then? Well, don't bother if you think you can change God's mind with the right combination of words and lack of doubt. That would not be a righteous prayer. Pray because God invites us to. He invites us to ask Him for what we want and to let Him know how it kills us when we don't get it, but He also commands us to remember that He is God and we are not.
When we're sick or hurting, we can think of nothing better than to not be sick or hurting anymore. When our loved one is dying: our child, our husband, our wife, we can think of nothing better than them getting better and remaining with us here on earth. God knows that about us. Jesus died for our narrow minds, but Scripture tells us continually that there IS something better than physical health and physical life: the love of God, safe and secure because Jesus died to secure it for us. So, when God's answer to our prayer is “no,” we have to bite our lip, nod resolutely, and with all the tears and disappointment in the world, we have to remember the only prayer that really truly matters has already been answered with a great big “YES!” The prayer of the faithful WILL save us. The prayer of the faithful HAS saved us: “Forgive them, Father, for they know not what they do.”(Jesus in Luke 23:34)
Suggested verse to repeat if it's a difficult day is Luke 22:42b
Pain Rehab buddies, remember to breathe!
"Nevertheless, not my will, -------> 5 count inhale
Jesus withdrew from them about a stone's throw, and knelt down and prayed, saying, “Father, if You are willing, remove this cup from me. Nevertheless, not my will, but yours, be done.” And there appeared to Him an angel from heaven, strengthening Him. And being in an agony He prayed more earnestly; and His sweat became like great drops of blood falling down to the ground. (Luke 22:41-44)
George Seurat "A Woman Seated" 1883
So, what is prayer anyway? Is it the means by which we change God's mind? Is it begging done out of desperation? Is it praise? Is it worship? Is it futile?
Our lives can seem hopelessly fatalistic when it comes to God's plan for us. He is totally in control, which is as comforting a thought as it is frightening (Hebrews 10:31). Meanwhile back at the ranch, we are both commanded to pray and invited to (1 Thessalonians 5:17; Philippians 4:6). No, we don't have the power to change God's mind, and no, we aren't bringing His attention to something He hasn't already noticed, and no, it's not futile.
Prayer is begging and worship and praise. We have the gift of letting God know what we think we need and how badly we're suffering, of crying out to Him in desperation, ANDof being heard; all the while praising His goodness and acknowledging that He is the only One who knows what we really need, and that we trust He will provide it.
And so we add a very important statement to each of our prayers, the same statement Christ added to His prayer in Gethsemane when He asked His father to spare Him from the cross: "Nevertheless, not my will, but Yours be done." (Luke 22:42) God's will is not always ours, hence the scary part.
C.S. Lewis
After His prayer, Jesus was left to suffer on that cross--willingly--for our sake. There was simply no other way. But that wasn't the end of God's answer to His Son's prayer. God sent an angel to strengthen Jesus in His agony (Luke 22:43). And God will do the same for each of His children when there is simply no other way because Jesus was left to suffer on that cross. Because of Jesus' suffering and death and resurrection, God never, ever tells us just plain "no."
Prayer, like everything else we are called to do in God's name, is an act of faith. Dear Father, I don't think I can live without this... Nevertheless...
Suggested verse to repeat if it's a difficult day comes from Psalm 116:2a:
Pain Rehab buddies, remember to breathe!
"He inclined His ear -------> 5 count inhale
to hear me." -------> 5 count exhale For more on PRAYER, read "Divine Wac-a-Mole."
When one has a chronic condition, one must become an expert in health insurance matters or risk being taken advantage of. Frankly, I don't know which is more stressful at this point: the disease or the medical bills it creates.
Dealing with insurance companies is as much about dealing with people as it is about understanding the twisted system of diagnosis codes and preexisting conditions. Whenever money becomes the highest concern either of myself or an organization, everyone's priorities are thrown our of whack. So, I say the same prayer every time I dial that dreaded customer service number.
Give me strength to face this day,
Keep me in the rightful way,
Guide my tongue in all I say,
Help those I need, my LORD, to care,
Remind us both that You are there. AMEN.
Sometimes, I'm blessed to find a customer service rep who truly seems to understand just how badly I need their help. (Thank you, Mari, wherever you are). But sometimes, I don't, and I have to remind myself that Jesus died for jerks, too. And sometimes that jerk He died for is me.
When it doesn't go so well, when my lack of control has turned into outright helplessness and the unfairness of the world is threatens to overwhelm me, I pray this:
Loving Father, wash away
All that has been wrong this day.
Give me rest and let me be
Strengthened and refreshed, dear LORD, through Thee. AMEN.
God has all sorts of ways of showing us that the only thing that matters, His love, is the only thing that is totally secure, through the sacrifice of His Son. It's a painful process to endure sleepless nights in order to prove there is no real need to stay awake.
"For those who LIVE according to the FLESH set their minds of the things of the flesh, but those who LIVE according to the SPIRIT set their minds on the things of the Spirit. For to set the mind on the FLESH IS DEATH, BUT to set the mind on the SPIRIT IS LIFE and Peace." (Romans 8:5-6)
"Mindfulness" is the Buddhist term for one of seven factors of their enlightenment. It is inherently offensive to ask a Christian to try and achieve it. It's the same thing as asking a Muslim individual to contemplate his baptism into Christ. I ask everyone to please be mindful of that.
And so, when such a concept is presented within a secular program or activity, we can either respectfully abstain from it altogether, or we can break it down to its most simplistic form and apply a Christian world view. I chose to do the latter, and here's what I found. (My sincere apologies to anyone who will find my oversimplification of this Buddhist ideal offensive. I mean no disrespect).
Very simply put, mindfulness is a spiritual and psychological awareness that enables one to be totally present in the moment. "It is not to let what one knows slip away from one's mind," to not be distracted from the moment (Geunther, Mind in Buddhist Psychology). The most easily understood definition I came across is from a Zen master named Muho Neolke in "Antaiji: Adult Practice":
If you are mindful, you are already creating a separation ("I – am – mindful – of - ..."). Don't be mindful, please! When you walk, just walk. Let the walk walk. Let the talk talk. Let the eating eat, the sitting sit, the work work. Let the sleep sleep (Part 18).
Let the spasms spasm? Let the cramps cramp? No, that can't be right. Moments for me are fairly painful, so I spend most of my time trying to escape them, trying NOT to be in them. The pain steals the moments from me, it sets my mind on the flesh, and so I think -- and correct me if I'm mistaken -- the idea is to be mindful despite the pain, not to be mindful of the pain. (We can discuss the merits of being mindful of unpleasant things some other time).
That's how we're supposed to treat all our chronic stressors. Financial trouble generally isn't resolved as soon as we put away our checkbooks, but the key is to only think about the finances while the checkbook is out. It's the same with learning to live with the death of a loved one. The fact that our loved one is gone is always present, just like our chronic pain, but we can't dwell on it 24/7 without going mad.
If the present reality, the present moment, is awful―and we all know it can be―then what moment are we supposed to be present in? What are we supposed to be mindful of, exactly? The clock ticking? The birds chirping? The feel of the grass under my feet? Yeah, that's not really doing it for me. I don't pretend to understand that part of the Buddhist way, but thankfully St. Paul has his own answer to that question.
Years ago, a beloved speech professor of mine (thank you, Charles) introduced me to a concept that's proved invaluable over these last few painful years: the distinction between the really real and the actual. The actual, being reality, is temporary and temporal. It exists only within a single moment of time. The really real, also being reality, transcends the temporal. The really real is where our loved ones who died before us live, it's also where the Crucifixion and Resurrection took place (as well as in the actual). The fact that Christ died and rose for our sins and we are redeemed is REALLY REAL; the fact that we are sick and hurting is ACTUAL.
So, the "mindfulness" St. Paul calls for is for us to live in the reality of our salvation while living with the actuality of our sinfulness. Sounds great. I want to be in that moment. I want to be mindful of the salvation Jesus won for me on the cross despite all the things that try to imprison my mind in the actual. I want to be aware of the really real to the point that I forget everything else: the ultimate enlightenment.
Well, I'm afraid that's not going to happen until everything else but the really real ceases to exist, so for now all I can do is try. Letting the walk walk―letting the salvation save?―is so hard to do when I am constantly in pain. That blasted thorn in my flesh constantly anchors me in the actual, in the temporal, in the temporary sinful imperfections of my body and my life. Cripes, even as I write this I'm interrupted every 5 minutes with the reality of my disease.
That's human. That's actual. And that's okay, because our salvation doesn't depend on what level of enlightenment we are able to attain for ourselves. The ultimate enlightenment isn't something that I can achieve for myself at all: it's something Jesus achieved for me, something that will be actualized on the Last Day.
Nevertheless, do not be dragged into the belief that the only peace Christians can hope for is in death. We can be mindful of the really real, of our salvation in Christ, despite our anchors. The really real IS HERE NOW. You can touch it in Word and Sacrament: in church, in prayer, in our baptism. Let the flesh go and strive to be mindful of your salvation in Christ every moment, and thank God that true “inner peace” has nothing to do with inner anything, but rather lies in an outer reality that is greater than whatever anchors us to the actual.
Here's an example of the music I use for meditation or relaxation or prayer. I translated it from Latin because we should always be aware of what we're listening to, as well as what we're meditating on. It's quite soothing if you enjoy medieval chanting (this song is well over 800 years old).
Suggest verse to repeat when in prayerful meditation is from Psalm 23:1a
Sleeplessness and chronic pain go hand-in-hand in a vicious sort of cycle. Three hours of fitful sleep in a row is often considered a good night for me, and so I'm well versed in the 2am infomercial scene. Nothing is quite so lonely and empty as the middle of the night, when all you can think about is how you can't even catch a few moment's peace while the rest of the world is blissfully oblivious to your torment.
Distractions... I don't just while away my sleepless hours watching romantic comedies from the early 90s (for those of you who got the title reference). It's also a good time for Bible surfing. I stumbled onto the following Psalm a while ago during a particularly sad and lonely night in the hospital, thank God, and although it didn't bring me sleep, it did bring me peace.
Here's Psalm 40 in part. It's a long one. David, the author of over 70 of the 150 Psalms in the Old Testament, evidently had his share of sleepless nights, too.
I waited patiently for the LORD; He inclined to me and heard my cry.
He drew my up from the pit of destruction, our of the miry bog,
and set my feet upon a rock, making my steps secure.
He put a new song in my mouth, a song of praise to our God.
Many will see and fear, and put their trust in the LORD.
As for You, O LORD, You will not restrain Your mercy from me;
Your steadfast love and Your faithfulness will ever preserve me!
For evils have encompassed me beyond number;
my iniquities have overtaken me, and I cannot see;
they are more than the hairs of my head; my heart fails me.
Be pleased, O LORD, to deliver me! O LORD, make haste to help me!
Let those be put to shame and disappointed altogether who seek to snatch away my life;
let those be turned back and brought to dishonor who delight in my hurt!
As for me, I am poor and needy, but the LORD takes thought for me.
You are my help and my deliverer; Do not delay, O my God!
