I’ve had a pretty hard life. Not horrible—nothing like that. But hard.
I have to tell you that I have also had a wonderful life, so far. And most of it I wouldn’t change, even if I could. Because it has been my life.
But also because, looking back—I can now see the hand of God involved—even in the hard times. Actually, especially in the hard times.
I have suffered with chronic migraine for most of my life, since I was around seven years old.
Until about twenty years ago, there weren’t any medicines available that were effective against the intense pain and other symptoms—so for most of my childhood and adult life, I had nothing to alleviate my suffering.
Most people know about the “headache” aspect of migraine. Of course, my head throbbed with excruciating pain.
This was usually accompanied by an almost paralyzing pain, which would permeate my neck and shoulders.
I also experienced terrible nausea and vomiting, retching up liver bile once my stomach was empty.
Another aspect of migraine is something called “aura.” My auras were the type that cause visual disturbance. It was like looking through a strange kaleidoscope: flashing lights, strange patterns, and something like the appearance of heat waves you might see on a hot desert road.
The auras would start out in my peripheral vision, and eventually overtook my entire field of vision. On several frightening occasions, I have gone completely blind.
The suffering went on throughout my childhood, then followed me into my adult life. It had negative effects on my marriage, and my ability to enjoy time with my son. It had negative effects on my ability to enjoy life—to experience life.
Lying in a dark and lonely room, many times for a two-day stretch, was all I could expect from those days—as the rest of the world went by. My link to the outside world was the crack under the door, as it’s sliver of light penetrated the darkness—and I could hear the sounds of my family, living life.
Countless times, I missed out on entire days, important events, and milestones in the lives of my family and friends. I felt like a shut-in, imprisoned within the darkness—alone with my pain and anguish. Many times, I felt forgotten.
I tried not to go “there” often, but sometimes I found myself in a place of self-pity.
I couldn’t help but ask myself, “Why me? What did I ever do to deserve this? Why am I being singled out to be the sufferer?”
Now, I had given my life to Jesus Christ at the early age of thirteen, so I had a strong belief in the power and presence of a personal God.
And I certainly knew that many other people, the whole world over, were suffering with many terrible disabilities—so much worse than mine.
But even so, I justified that I had plenty of reasons to feel sorry for myself. After all, I had been robbed of a “normal” life.
It took me years to identify what I am about to share with you.
My life was certainly hindered, but it was by another condition—a condition that has far worse affects than the physical agony of migraine.
The condition is called “uncertainty.”
A migraine can strike at any time, and has no consideration for hopes, dreams, or opportunities. Every moment of life—even those moments not ruined by pain—can be ruined by uncertainty.
It makes it very difficult to plan life with any confidence—or to even have confidence in life.
Uncertainty undermines any ambitions, and any focus for the future.
I was sure that this “handicap” of mine had stunted an otherwise normal human being—making me less than the person I might have been.
“Oh,” I thought, “the things I could have done…the person I might have been…if only I had not been held back by so much suffering, and so much pain.”
To me, I was living a life of “less than.” And it all seemed so unfair.
I can’t tell you exactly when I made my decision.
Decisions are, at times, a long time in making—and then, one day, suddenly apparent.
I remember lying on my bed one day, in awful pain. It was there, in the darkness of my room, when I decided to look past my present suffering—as much as I could.
I remember making the decision to accept the day I was experiencing. I would refuse to believe that it was a day wasted.
My condition of suffering left me with little choice. But I realized that I did have choices.
I could choose to be with God.
I could continue to lie there in self-pity, or I could attempt to go beyond myself and my situation—and think of higher things.
I gave Him the responsibility of taking my life—whatever this life of mine was supposed to be. I gave Him permission to create the life He had purposed for me—instead grieving for the life I had envisioned for myself.
Almost without knowing it, I began to take advantage of what I did have—my time alone—to talk to the only other person in the room: God Himself.
With every migraine, I learned to place my trust in Him. My “less than” life was placed into His hands.
Eventually, I began to notice how God was steering this bashed-up ship of mine—navigating places I would not have gone, had I lived a “normal” life. He began taking me in His direction, and I began to find happiness in learning His will for my life.
I had a sense that God was also choosing. Although I couldn’t understand why He would allow me to suffer so badly, I began to understand that He was choosing me—for something.
When I made this decision—to give the Lord my life, “as is”—He took me seriously. He began to make my life His own.
Just like the Apostle Paul, who wrote
“I am crucified with Christ: nevertheless I live; yet not I, but Christ liveth in me: and the life which I now live in the flesh I live by the faith of the Son of God, who loved me, and gave himself for me.” (Galatians 2:20)
Yes, I still have my sick days. They aren’t as terrible as they once were, because I finally have a medicine that helps me. But migraine is a chronic illness, and will always bring it’s physical limitations.
But I find that—as I constantly draw strength from the One who keeps me—in Him, I am never really limited.
Christ lives in me, and this life that I live, is no longer my own—the life I thought was mine. Rather than clinging (in the flesh) to the life I envisioned for myself—I have given God permission to take ownership of my life—which, (by faith in Christ) is already His.
God wants to do the same for you.
The life which He has purposed for you, is the life that He—through Jesus Christ—has purchased for you.
Will you give God permission to take ownership of your life?
I don’t know what you are facing—what obstacles, or prisons of the mind or body, or circumstances beyond your control. Whatever it is, it probably isn’t easy being you. That is why God led you here.
You may be misunderstood by others, who don’t realize what it’s like to live in your shoes. You may be living a lonely life, because most people simply can’t identify with your particular path of suffering.
I don’t know what you are facing, but I do know that it’s hard to suffer, and to be misunderstood as well.
You know that I know. And that is why you are still reading this. You are not alone, friend. God does not want you to struggle on your own.
No one can handle it all—except your Creator.
He sent His Son, Jesus, to live and to die for us all—so that we wouldn’t have to live this life on our own—so that we could know Him, and be comforted by His wondrous Holy Spirit.
He will be our Comforter and our Helper, if we will just let Him be Himself. He is our Friend in times of trouble, who always sticks close by.
Maybe you have already surrendered your life to this Christ, who saves us. Maybe you have already begun to trust Him, in the middle of your “less than” life. Maybe He has already become a close Friend to you.
But if you haven’t yet discovered this Love of a lifetime—
or if you haven’t yet found the peace that goes way beyond all natural understanding—
or if you haven’t yet surrendered yourself—the all of you—to all of Him,
then it’s time to give up.
You can carry your own troubles, or you can release them into His mighty, outstretched arms. When you do, you are giving Jesus your destiny—and you can follow Him there.
Give God permission—let Him do the heavy lifting. He can, and He will.
