Headaches, heartache and healing
It has been quite a month.
The first blow came in December.
“I can’t see your face.”
I was standing two feet from my flatmate. I have perfect vision and only wear glasses for reading but I couldn’t see her. Her face was blurry. There were coloured dots in front of my eyes. Then there was panic and then only pain.
This is how they began: with flickers of sharp pain dancing behind my eyelids that would then explode in my head, leaving me dizzy, choking down painkillers and retreating to my bed for darkness and quiet. In the aftermath of one, I’d felt like I’d been in a fight. The stress of not knowing what provoked them or when one would come on, brought me very low and made me anxious. I felt silly complaining to friends, only murmuring about headaches, but in the meantime, not feeling like myself, at all.
By the time March rolled around, I was exhausted. And then in March, in the space of a week, the following happened:
I had two job rejections.
A relationship ended suddenly and painfully.
My housing plans for next year fell through.
I was medically signed off from work due to the migraines.
I normally spend my working days in a school with 1,300 other people and suddenly, I had a lot of alone time on my hands.
My housemate was away, my family were in another country, the relationship had ended.. I’m no longer a student, all of my friends were working.
To be honest, I didn’t feel like talking much anyway.
So what could I do?
I live next to the beautiful university parks and for 21 days, I made myself walk around the parks every day, for at least an hour. It left me wiped. Sometimes it started a headache. Sometimes I’d have to sit down half away round, soul weary, sad and simply at the end of myself.
But every morning, before I went on my walk, I would read the Psalms.
If you’ve never read the Psalms, then my friend, you’d be completely shocked by them. They are often loud, messy and disruptive. The various writers weep, express deep anger and question God. They lament and ask how long. They are honest about their struggles.
But more importantly and this is what would make the difference:
The Psalms are songs about God and who He is.
So, I’d get down onto my knees and read the psalms and often cry with the writers. There was so much I didn’t understand. I was lost, confused and away from home. Some days I was too weary to cry. Sometimes I could only pray through tears: please help my unbelief. But my constant prayer, even in tears was this: God, please help me to know You better. Please stay close to me.
And here are three among many precious truths I learned from the Psalms on those lonely walks.
- God is my Peace.
I should have been crippled and crushed by all this happening at once. I simply do not have the mental, physical or spiritual capacity to manage all those things. But He carried me through and gave me a peace beyond all understanding, beyond human manufacturing. In moments of panic and pain, He was there and He never left my side. He still hasn’t. - God is my Refuge.
He did this by showing me, that the things I held dearest and relied on most — my health, my career, my relationship(s) would all diminish, disappoint and even devastate. I could not be sure about any of these things, despite how much I wanted to be. But God never changes. God never leaves and He never stopped loving me. And so He became the safest place to take my soul ache, tears and questions. I knew, from the Psalms, that it was safe to do so. - God is my friend.
The Psalms are the songs of Jesus, who “walked my road and felt my pain, all the joys and sorrows that I know so well.” He came down to earth and experienced all the pains and perplexities of being human. He was a man well acquainted with sorrows. And He too, turned to the Psalms.
The Psalms, in turn, drew me to the gospels. And it wasn’t a university park, but a garden, where Jesus sweat tear drops of blood as He contemplated what God was asking Him to do. To go to the cross and die the most agonising death, in order to save us from our sins. He asked God if there was a way out. There wasn’t. So He courageously faced the cross and became a sacrifice, to become our Saviour and Friend.
In that garden, He prayed the prayer I’d been struggling to pray.
“Yet not my will, but Yours be done.”
As I saw Jesus wrestle and then go to where He went, it gave me the courage to pray this prayer too. “Yet not my will, but Yours be done.”
Is there a happy ending to this story?
None of my circumstances have changed.
The migraines are less frequent but still unpredictable and painful.
The relationship is still definitely over.
I’m still jobless.
But, Jesus has given me a joy that is impervious to my circumstances.
I was reminded that since I can trust Him, with my whole heart that He has taken care of all my sin, shown me radical grace and secured my souls destiny, with Him forever, then I can trust Him with all these hurts and trust that a good God is one Who loves me too much to ever be unkind to me.
And therefore, though it still hurts, I have hope.
I’m still not completely myself, there are still stings of grief and uncertainty, but I have joy and peace, because He is my Rock and my Refuge, as the Psalms sing:
“He has heard the sound of my pleading.
The Lord is my strength and my shield;
my heart trusts in Him and I am helped.
Therefore my heart celebrates and I give thanks to Him with my song.”
Psalm 28.6–7
“The ache inside us serves it greatest purpose when it drives us to our knees in desperation, compelling us to seek comfort in the strong and healing presence of our Saviour. This is God’s glorious intent for every hardship we face. As difficult as it is to understand, God is at work, even in our pain.”
“Yet not I, but through Christ in me.”
Beth
