When Pain is Not The Problem

One night last week just before bedtime, my ten-year-old called me over. “Mom, I have a toothache, and my gum hurts a lot too.”

I did what any mom would do and grabbed a flashlight. Shining the bright LED into his mouth, I saw a red, swollen gum where he pointed to the source of the pain. “Ouch, dude. That looks like it hurts. How long has that been going on?” I asked.

“Since Saturday.” He responded.

I called my husband over, and we both made the decision that we should probably make a trip to the dentist in the morning. It could be a cavity or even headed toward an abscess. Anxiety rose in my heart as I thought about how this might affect our next few days – the time involved, the cost, and managing his pain. We gave him some ibuprofen and ushered him to bed.

I didn’t sleep well that night, and the next morning, I felt my nerves on edge until we called the dentist’s office and settled on a 9:00 appointment. We quickly got the kids ready and gathered the school books – can’t let an appointment turn the school day on its head! And we headed out the door.

My mind raced as I thought through all the possibilities as the road moved under our tires. Would they do something today? Would we have to schedule another appointment later this week or even several appointments? How would he handle the procedure(s)? And most of all, I felt like some sort of failure for not teaching him to brush his teeth better. Cue “bad mom syndrome.”

I sat in the waiting room with the younger boys while my husband went back with the oldest. I bounced my knees with nervous energy. What were they finding? What was taking so long? In reality, they were probably not gone more than about twenty minutes, but it felt like an eternity.

When they emerged, my son made a bee-line for the video games, and my husband walked over. He shrugged his shoulders. “Everything is good.” He stated calmly. I’m sure my mouth dropped. “His teeth are all intact, no decay, no infection. It’s just his adult teeth trying to push the baby molars out. The dentist said to encourage him to wiggle them more to get the little ones out of the way.”

I blinked a few times as the news settled in. My son was growing up. He was in pain because he is growing into the man God wants him to be. Wiggle the tooth. The new one will come in. Everything is okay. The pain is not a problem.

We got back in the car, and I drove in silence as I processed this rather good news. And it revealed something to me – Pain is not always a problem. It does not always signify a problem. Sometimes it signifies growth. In some ways, I felt like an idiot for not thinking through that possibility in the midst of all my worrying. But in other ways, I wonder if God allowed this small speed bump to teach me a deeper lesson.

We are trained to look at pain as a problem. We are raised with the ideas that pain is your body’s way of telling you something is wrong. The sore throat tells you you’re sick. The headache states that you’re tired, stressed, or in need of coffee. The burning lungs might signify asthma, and the aching heart can whisper of loss. We pull our hands away from heat so we don’t get burned. We add layers if we are tingly cold. We step away from relationships that seem too hurtful.

On the other hand, the aching gums tell us we are growing up and getting new teeth (yup, I know this now). The burning muscles tell us new fibers are being added and we are getting stronger. And the rhythmic tightening of the womb tells us we are about to birth new life. Pain doesn’t always mean something is wrong. Sometimes, pain tells us that something is very much right!

The problem comes when we look at all pain from the same angle without taking time to understand its source or its message. We feel a sensation that sends a signal to our brain – “pain” is the message that is communicated from that source. But the nerve impulse doesn’t differentiate between bad pain and good pain. It’s just all sensed as “pain”.

The nervous system is incredible in its ability to warn us of a problem. God created it this way, and it is very good. I’m amazed at how quickly we will remove our finger from the poke of the needle before we even consciously realize that we were pricked. Pain is in place to protect us from further injury.

But pain is also present in growth – as in the case of my son’s tooth. His gums were being “injured” to some degree. His nerves were sending a message to his brain which communicated pain. The process of the baby teeth being replaced by the adult teeth can be painful as the mouth makes room for the larger molars. But that pain signifies growth, not a problem. So my getting worked up over a potential problem actually served to create much more stress than was ever necessary. There wasn't a problem after all!

What if, when we sensed pain, we took an honest look at it? What if, rather than working ourselves into a frenzy, we slowed down and considered all the options? What if we looked at pain as a gift rather than a problem? What if we saw it as potential for growth rather than an inhibitor to our lives? What if we pushed into it rather than avoiding it?

The adult tooth will take longer to come in if my son does nothing. The dentist said to wiggle the baby one, to work on getting it out of the way. If my son tries to ignore the pain and live his life, the pain will last longer. But if he wiggles that tooth, the new one can break through and he will grow one step closer to being a man.

What do you need to wiggle today rather than worrying about or ignoring? It’s natural to want to avoid what hurts us, but what if engaging is what it takes to see a friendship blossom? It’s easy to worry when we don’t understand cause, but what if taking time to understand brought clarity? It’s tempting to pretend everything is okay, but what if getting honest with ourselves is how healing comes?

We have a choice in how we handle our pain. We can worry about it. We can try to avoid it. Or we can wiggle it and see what potential lies under the surface.

It might just be that a new tooth is ready to emerge! 

When the Right Choice is the Hard Choice and Threatens to Break Your Heart

For us, that choice had to do with our dog. “It’s only a dog.” Some might mutter while others accuse “She was your dog! How could you?” Yesterday we told our dog goodbye and watched her walk away with her new owner to her new home. The tears fill my eyes now even as I write that. I never wanted it to be this way. I had so many dreams of her being our family dog forever.

We didn’t come to the decision to re-home our dog lightly. It took months, maybe even years to really realize the truth that we were no longer capable of giving her everything she needed. Ultimately, after seeking God and talking together, my husband and I knew it was time for our Gracie-girl to find a new home – one that could give her much more attention than we could at this phase in our lives. But the truth didn’t stop the ache in my heart.

We all make hard choices, some more difficult than others. Maybe for you it was saying goodbye to a child, knowing someone else could provide them with a more nurturing home. Maybe it was letting go of a relationship you knew wasn’t healthy or best. Maybe it was choosing to say “enough” to medical intervention and watching your loved one pass away peacefully. Maybe your hard choice was a single occurrence of turning down a solid job opportunity to choose your family instead, or maybe you’ve said no time after time to the advances of a co-worker choosing to honor your marriage commitment even though it’s hard. Your choice may have been like ours to re-home a pet or say goodbye permanently so they no longer have to suffer.

As believers in Christ, we are called to look for wisdom then to obey, but that doesn’t mean it’s easy. Whatever your choice, I’m sure it has touched your heart as ours has mine. What do you do when the right choice is hard? What do you do when it threatens to break your heart? Here are five things that have helped me. I hope they help you too!

Don’t self-medicate. When my heart hurts, I don’t like it. I’m uncomfortable, and it doesn’t feel good. The first thing my flesh wants to run to are fillers and distractions – a big bowl of ice cream, a novel, a TV show or movie, a nap, lots of dark chocolate, maybe even a run if I have that much pent up energy. Now none of these things are wrong in their own light. God gives us all gifts for our enjoyment and delight in him. The problem comes when I run to those things first and only, when I look to the food, the drinks, the entertainment to fill me back up again.

The only source of our life is Christ. “In Him was life” (John 1:4). “In Him we live and move and have our being” (Acts 17:28). “I have come that they may have life and have it to the full” (John 10:10). Anything we look to in order to bring us life other than Christ himself is a cheap substitute and ultimately becomes an idol in our lives.

Staci Eldridge addresses this problem in her book Captivating. “. . . none of these really satisfy, and so we find ourselves trying to fill the remaining emptiness with our little indulgences (we call them ‘bad habits’). Brent Curtis calls them our ‘little affairs of the heart.’ They are what we give our hearts away to instead of giving them to the heart of God” (57). The substitutes and self-medicating may make us feel better for a while, but ultimately, they will leave us empty and as unfulfilled as before.

Instead of taking my heart and hiding it or distracting my heart from the pain, I have to realize that God longs to have my heart – All of it! “You will seek me and you will find me when you seek for me with all your heart” (Jeremiah 29:13). God cares about our aches and pains no matter how little they may seem to someone else, and he longs for us to pour out our heart to him. (Psalm 62:8)

Don’t listen to accusations. Everyone in the world has an opinion about your life – especially everyone on social media. You would not believe some of the things that people said about our decision as we were looking for a new home for our dog. People who didn’t even know me felt the freedom to condemn and insult. (That’s another post for another day) It hurt! It cut deeply. The saying goes, “Sticks and stones may break my bones but words will never hurt me.” So. Not. True. Bone heal, and they heal stronger. Hearts almost always carry scars from words rashly spoken.

Our enemy likes to take these accusations along with our own hurt and exhaustion and twist them into tempting morsels for us to chew on. I have to think the prophet Elijah was in a similar boat being the only prophet to stand for God in the midst of a crooked and perverse generation. Right after he called down fire from God to the alter on the mountain and prayed for it to rain, he found himself in the wilderness so depressed and discouraged that he asked God to let him die. Jezebel was after him. He probably felt like everyone was after him. But after a nap, and as he sought God, he found him. It wasn’t in the earthquake or the whirlwind or the fire, but afterward, he heard it – the still small voice speaking truth to his heart.

Our world, our culture can be so loud. Comments can echo around our head and heart until they seem like the only truths left. But it’s not in the noise of our social media contacts that we are going to hear words of truth from the mouth of the one who assured, “I am the way and the truth. . .” (John 14:6). Jesus spoke of the Holy Spirit in John 16:13, “He will guide you into all truth.” Many times, I wonder if the Holy Spirit is constantly speaking quietly to our heart, but we drown him out with our own versions of earthquakes, whirlwinds, and fires. If we step away from the noise and quiet our hearts, we will hear the tender voice of the Holy Spirit speaking truth and comfort to our burdened hearts.

Speak truth to yourself. Sometimes even after tuning out the noise of the world, I still find it hard to hear the truth. Satan, the father of lies, is crafty and cunning and will twist nearly anything to fit his own devices in continuing to steal our joy, kill our hope and defeat our effectiveness for the glory of God.

I think that may be one of the reasons that the belt of truth is mentioned first as we put on the armor of God. For a long time, I wondered why Paul included a belt in the armor. It is neither an offensive nor defensive weapon. But the more I pondered and prayed, I realized the centrality of this piece of armor to every other piece we are commanded to take up in Ephesians 6. A belt is crucial to a garment in order to keep it tightly secured. Could you imagine fighting a battle while your pants are falling down around your ankles? The other crucial job of a belt is to provide a place to store your weapons. In the same way, truth is absolutely essential in our fight against our enemy.

When I find it hard to hear the truth, I must seek it out in the Word of God! David did the same thing commanding his heart to put his hope in God! (Psalm 42). Truth about who God is, who I am, and what He has promised prove to be a healing balm to my soul and ultimately defeats the deception of the devil.

Get outside. When my heart is hurting and all I want to do is close myself up in my room, sometimes the healthiest thing I can do is to take a walk. Getting outside reminds me that the world is so much bigger than me and my problems. Seeing trees, birds, flowers (and yes, even snow) can bring hope to my heart that even in the midst of this cruel world, God is still working his redeeming plan. And exposing my heart to beauty reminds me to be thankful for the little gifts of grace that God provides.

We see season after season how fall turns to winter then winter to spring. “He has made everything beautiful in its time” (Ecclesiastes 3:11). He then will also take my heart and make something beautiful once again.

Breathe. I don’t mean deep breathing or yoga. Throughout the Bible, the same words for Holy Spirit are “Ruach” or “Pneuma” meaning breath. I have to remind myself that I am not my own life source. Christ is. The vibrancy and beauty of my heart can only come through His power.

We sang a song on Sunday. “It’s your breath in our lungs. So we pour out our praise.” (listen here) I had never realized the truth of that chorus in that way before. It is only by the power of the Holy Spirit flowing through us that we can utter our Amen to the glory of God (2 Corinthians 1:20). Try as I might, I cannot praise God in the midst of the storm unless I am sustained by the very nature of who he is in me. I can do nothing on my own, but I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me (Philippians 4:13). It’s His Breath in our lungs. Let him pour out His praise through you.

This life is hard, and decisions that we must make are not without their effect on our hearts. But friends, if you are in the midst of your own hard right now, would you take my hand and walk with me as we make choices even in the middle of the hard stuff? Let’s journey this road together for two are better than one and a cord of three strands is not easily broken (Ecclesiastes 4:9). I would love to hear how I can be praying for you in the midst of your hard thing! May God hold your hearts.

Don't Go It Alone: How Hiding our Hurts Opens us to Enemy Influence

I feel the threat of attacks rising as the sun tempts to rise over the horizon. Lies of the enemy just waiting to push buttons of temptation. Anything he can do to keep me from basking in the glory of the Son and reflecting that glory to the world around me. When you feel isolated, your reflection only goes so far. And when one person feels like they aren’t even reaching another, they ask what’s the point? We were made in the image of God – in the likeness of the trinity – with an innate need for fellowship. And when that need goes unmet, we easily distort our perceptions of reality into contortions similar to mirrors in the funny house. Nothing makes sense, we don’t know which way is up or which way to turn. Confused and exhausted, it’s easy to ask, what’s the point? And desire to give up completely.

But the truth is, we are never alone. Never. For one, He has said, “I will never leave you nor forsake you.” He is here. Always. And not only is he here, but his arms are open wide and he invites us into his loving embrace. Not condemning. Not chiding. Simply loving, forgiving, encouraging us on this difficult journey.

Secondly, we are being watched – by someone. Constantly. Spouse, kids, parents, siblings, social media contacts, the cashier at the grocery store, the person driving in the car next to you, the barista at starbucks, the teacher, the student, the patient, the coach, the athlete, the boss, the employee. And they too, each one of them is longing for connection whether they realize it or not. Naturally, as humans, we reach toward each other, even those we don’t know simply to be reminded that we are as human as they are. Each eye that watches you looks to catch a glimpse that there is maybe, possibly, more to this life than just surviving. They are looking for hope. They are looking to you. They are looking to me. No, we are not alone, we are very much surrounded.

But our enemy secures our blinders and makes sure we keep our eyes down so that we don’t make those connections. He wants us to feel alone. As Lysa Terkeurst says about our enemy, “If he can isolate us, he can influence us” (It’s Not Supposed to Be This Way, 150). Satan wants his voice to be the loudest sound we hear. Lies like: You’re a failure. You’re not good enough. You’re too much. It’s not worth it. Just give up. His purposes are clearly lined out in scripture. He has come to steal, kill, and destroy (John 10:10). And what better way to steal our joy, kill our hope, and destroy our effectiveness than to bring us to a point of isolation and despair.

John 10:10 doesn’t stop there. Jesus goes on to say, “But I have come that they may have life, and have it to the full.” Life - made a living being, coming directly from the breath of God breathed into Adam and has been breathing into us by the power of his Spirit ever since. We are living creatures, Imago Dei – made in the likeness of God – and as such we are made for relationship. But when we hide due to our hurts, our wounds, and our fears, when we struggle with concern over what others think of our hearts, we isolate ourselves and open that door to being influenced by the enemy again.

Our Christian culture has convinced us that its most holy to be joyful (or at least be okay) with the difficulties. James 1 is oft quoted when trials arise, “Count it all joy.” And yes, that is our obligation – eventually. The problem arises when we don’t allow time for grief. Jesus wept over the death of Lazarus (even though he knew the truth of who He was and what he was about to do.) Jesus again mourned over Jerusalem (though he was about it rescue all who believed in Him through his sacrifice.) “The Lord is close to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crusted in spirit” (Psalm 34:18). And in Romans 12, we are instructed to weep with those who weep.

Life hurts. It’s hard. This sin stained place is suspended between the fall of Paradise and the not yet fully redeemed. And it’s okay to grieve that. Grief, is good. Tears heal. Your wound may not look like mine, but that doesn't make it any less significant. Now may be my time for weeping. Now may be yours. Joy will come in the morning (maybe tomorrow, maybe days from now.) And the truth is, in the midst of our sorrow, we can still trust that God is good, that he works all things for good, and that He loves us. Oh, how he loves us.

For now, if you’re here (or if you’ve been here, but you’ve been encouraged to move on too quickly), I encourage you to stay for a while. Linger. Allow the feelings to surface, and pour out your heart to God – He is our refuge (Psalm 62:8) and he cares so very much for each little (or big) thing that has wounded his children’s hearts. Don’t stay alone in your pain. Share it with a friend. Talk to a counselor if you need to. Close the door to isolation, and close the door on the enemy’s influence. Jesus is Jehovah Rophe’ – our healer. And he will see to it that your wounds are well tended.

Friends, if someone opens up to you about their pain, listen, don’t preach. It’s okay for us to grieve. It’s okay for it to hurt. We can be sorrowful yet joyful in the hope of God’s glory at the same time. It is possible! Let’s get back to living life to the full like Jesus intended – in true fellowship with one another!

Every Woman

Every Woman

She sits there in silent tears,

just waiting for someone to care;

She is every woman.

She'll cross her feet, draw up her knees,

drowning insecurities;

She is every woman.

Wounds from the past turn into scars,

wonder how she got this far;

She is every woman.

Fear of who she is or who she'll be,

prevent her from admitting need;

She is every woman.

From deep inside, release a sigh,

and watch the others walk on by;

She is every woman.

Walls thick and strong protect her heart,

or maybe just keep us apart;

She is every woman.

Alert aware, eyes open wide,

Just maybe you can see inside

The others that are passing by,

Glimmers of tears sit within their eyes.

They too have fears, and scars and needs,

You're not the only one who bleeds.
They hide it well behind the mask;

Next time she passes, please just ask.
For she is every woman!

*Dedicated to all the women who feel alone on this journey - who feel they are the only ones with messes - you are a part of every woman. You are known. You are loved. You are delighted in. (Zephaniah 3:17)

 

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Jericho's Wall

May 25, 2013

Living out of the deepest parts of my heart in today’s world is really difficult. One of the reasons I believe it is so hard to live fully alive is due to the evil that is so prevalent and the fear that surrounds my heart and soul. Be guarded. Watch out for bad guys. Always be alert. Protect yourself. Fists up and ready to fight. Soul words of life in this jaded world. And that’s not at all original design. God destined us for something so much deeper – intimacy with Him!

 

Someone once said that if you break that word down “in-to-me-see” it makes a lot more sense. But when my heart and soul is surrounded by Jericho’s wall, how can anyone see in? I guess it takes a scout – can I be my own, or do I need someone else? A scout must come in, scale the wall, climb over, and start searching for what is really there – behind the fearful faces, underneath the armor, in the inner locked chambers. Then take report back to the captain. When he hears the report, decisions must be made about how to start tearing down the walls…Do you fight them possibly creating more fear in the heart? Do you march silently? Do you blow trumpets? Do you kneel to pray? When the walls start to tumble, chaos may ensue, and when they finally reach the ground, the heart must be cradled. As reassurance of safety returns, the boulders and rubble can begin to be cleaned and put away – hopefully never to be rebuilt.

 

It’s a fortress for sure – not just a stick and mud kind of wall. It’s been learned from wounds and fears of wounds. My safety is in my hardness. Yet once again, I feel unwhole. Broken. Though encompassed around, I feel vulnerable. Build it higher, be on guard, watch out, be afraid, you may get hurt. But no matter what, it never seems to be enough. I feel empty and full to exploding at the same time. I feel longing and fear in the same moment. I was made for so much more – for life, not death. To breathe, not suffocate. For relationship, not isolation.

 

Lord, I’m ready to be free from Jericho’s fear – take me back to Eden where I can be naked and unashamed (I wonder if that word also means without fear?) Thank you that you created me with a heart that’s meant to be known. Help me to know it well and to trust your protection of both my heart and my life.

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To risk? To Dance Again?

I found them in the corner hidden in the darkness, covered by the uniforms that have defined my life over the past several years. I pulled them out and held them up to the light trying to remember their former glory. I inhale deeply, coughing as I choke on the dust. I blow swiftly across them - a tornado of powdered dirt swirls in the wake of my breath.

They were blush pink at one point, weren't they? The silky ribbon laces no longer hold the gleam they once did. The light now absorbed from neglect rather than reflected. Finding a rag, I pick it up and start rubbing vigorously - a desperation of sort has overtaken me! In my haste, dust fills the room, burns my eyes; I glance away. It's hard to breathe, and I am tempted to forget the whole thing.

As the dust settles, I catch a glimpse of the side I was cleaning . . . soft, pink, satin fabric is now evident. I turn it over in my hand noting the pointed shape, the hard toe, the leather soul. I continue about my work, more carefully this time out of consideration for both my own sanity as well as the fragility of the fabric I'm working with.

As I carefully wipe off each ribbon, I look inside and memories come back unbidden. The blisters, oh, the blisters! And how many times I had fallen. No, grace was not natural for me. My toes bled, my muscles ached, and I was insecure before others as I walked around on pointe'.

I'm half tempted to pretend I never even found them - to shove them back in their deep corner with the cob webs. But then a light in my mind started just a s a glimmer then grew akin to daylight - Amidst the pain, I was alive, alive and free! I was who I was created to be. I lifted my treasure up and held them to the light. Was I brave enough? Was it worth the risk? Would I tie on my ballet slippers once again?

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