Three steps toward reversing the snowball effect of peripheral pain.
The pain about pain is that it tends to gather more pain.
I began writing this post with a foggy mind on the 20th of 20 straight days of migraine.
I’m feeling good today, but now it’s my daughter, head packed in ice, body wrapped with dogs, lying on the sofa on her third day of COVID.
(If you’re following me, yes, we do have entirely too much experience with COVID around here! Blessings come with it, too, but that’s a future post. Today it’s all about pain.)
I’m a fan of the Calm app, particularly a meditation called 7 Days of Soothing Pain. On day three, Oren Jay Sofer addresses how resisting pain actually makes it worse:
“The more we resist, the more we suffer. We might resist mentally or emotionally, wanting it to go away, getting angry, freaking out. We can also resist physically, contracting, tightening, or bracing against the unpleasant feeling.” [1]
I feel it. My head hurts. And soon my jaw, my shoulders, my gut, and my spirit.
Tension gathers more pain. The mental and emotional exhaustion of fighting an illness such as COVID can bleed into the parallel pain of depression. And if you’re experiencing ongoing relational brokenness or the fear of uncertainty after a job loss or the nasty pain of regret, you know how pain can steal sleep, social connections, and confidence, multiplying your suffering further, and now your pain is snowballing in ever-increasing proportions.
Whatever the pain you are fighting, we have some things in common here in the shadow of that pain that we can’t quite shake.
While we are not always able to fix our pain at its fountainhead, there are three steps we can take to stop the snowball effect of peripheral pain.
1. Lose the lies.
Somewhere in the back of your mind there is a lie, or several lies, that are either multiplying your pain, or multiplying your stuckness.
Identifying them is harder than it sounds; how do you spot a lie if you think it's true? As long as we are oblivious of lies, they have power over us. So let me just name a few that might be lurking in the dark closets of your soul:
· Everyone else has it better.
· This (or God) is so unfair.
· A good God couldn’t allow this to happen.
· I’m being punished for….
· The future is going to be a train wreck.
· God either doesn’t see me or doesn’t love me.
· I am all alone.
· It’s up to me to fix this.
· I don’t matter.
· I’m a freak.
· It’s unfixable.
· We will never…
· I will always…
· I can’t…
· I deserve…
Lies are hard to spot, and they're also hard to let go of because they have become quite cozy in our head. They hang on for dear life, and try to sneak back in, heading for the chair that has their butt-print right there in the cushion. And frankly, a little piece of us wants to welcome them back home, because they are serving us in some seductive way, like excusing our reactions, attitudes, and choices, or if we are Christ-followers, our unwillingness to actually follow Christ fully.
Wallowing takes less energy than working when we’re in a state of pain. Lies offer the fleeting comfort of deflecting blame.
You're in good company. The composer Asaph expresses his own shocking lies in Psalm 77:
“Will the Lord spurn us forever
and never show His favor again?
Is His loving devotion gone forever?
Has His promise failed for all time?
Has God forgotten to be gracious?
Has His anger shut off His compassion?”
Imagine the plaintive, minor tune of that song!
“I am grieved,” he concludes, “that the hand of the Most High has changed.”
Ouch!
It's common to harbor a few lies, perhaps unknowingly. But your lies are not serving you well. They are adding more pain.
Letting go of lies has to be a conscious choice. Can you identify them? Can you slip your hand in God’s, and ask him to shine his light on the lies you’re believing?
2. Hold onto truth.
Let’s not leave poor Asaph hanging. His Psalm has a beautiful hinge right there in the middle, a resolve that changes everything from that point forward:
“I will remember the works of the Lord.”
Then Asaph begins to remember and list what God has done in the past. He calls to his mind what is true about God. This, not that lie back there, is who God truly is.
As the power and compassion of God comes clearly into focus, truth reframes Asaph’s spirit. Look at the stark difference in tone a couple of stanzas later:
I will reflect on all You have done
and ponder Your mighty deeds.
Your way, O God, is holy.
What god is so great as our God?
You are the God who works wonders;
You display Your strength among the peoples.
Woah! Talk about a change in outlook!
It turns out, stopping to focus on what is true is a game changer. When we identify the lies we believe, they lose their power. And choosing to agree with the truth turns our outlook right-side-up.
Years ago we lived in a little travel trailer while we built our house, and the giant task of home-building kept multiplying in proportion. Problems and obstacles abounded, and there was a season when I lost hope entirely that we could ever complete the task. I actually recall flirting with the lie that we should ditch the whole thing and move to Mexico! I cried. A lot. For days.
Fortunately, I cried to the Lord, right there at my little trailer table in the early morning while the others slept. I cried with my Bible open and a little candle lighting the page. I told the Lord what was rotten, spilled out my worst fears, and He received every single thing I had to say. In return, he soothed me with the hope of his Word. As I soaked in the light of God’s Word, truth began to push out the darkness, and hope began to grow. God was bigger than my circumstances. God cared about me. God had a plan.
I wrote these truths down, and in the months to follow, I scoured God’s Word carefully to make sure I was not making up more lies, and added scriptures to what I called my “truth papers”.
The papers eventually became affirmations. Turning to God’s Word drives us back to the truth that transforms. And still today, when I fear or am tempted to welcome those convenient lies back home, I still pull out my affirmations and remind myself of what God's Word says is true.
So we identify the lies and send them packing. We steep ourselves in truth. And then, friends, we need to take one tiny step forward.
3. Do the small things.
Pain sucks the life from you and can rob you of your normal ability to think clearly, or the energy to act. So perhaps “normal” is not a realistic expectation just now while pain is overwhelming.
But in the battle against pain, if you do nothing, pain wins.
Do something. Start small.
This might look like doing a little work, then retreating to rest in the dark. Greeting each family member with love. Stopping to lie on the floor and breathe deeply and meditate. Faking a smile. Listening to an audio book when you can’t open your eyes. Seeking out healthy food, relaxing music, Scripture to fill your soul, humor to lighten, small bits of work to make you feel human, conversation with a friend to remind you life holds love.
Each small forward step leads to one more.
There are some things beyond your reach when you are suffering. But do the things you can.
The path of pain is a foggy one; it’s impossible to see what is ahead or guarantee where it leads. But refusing the lies, holding fast to the truth, and taking the next tiny step forward will take you somewhere that’s NOT HERE, not where you are right now, stuck.
Our friend Asaph saw that, too. When he looked back from the ending, he saw the path that took him there. He ends his enchanting hymn with these promising words:
Your path led through the sea,
Your way through the mighty waters,
but Your footprints were not to be found.
You led Your people like a flock
by the hand of Moses and Aaron.
Your pain journey has a destination, too. Three small steps will get you started in the right direction.
· Those Affirmations will be posted soon!
· See the COVID section under Other Posts for more articles relating to COVID’s impact.
· And enjoy Asaph’s whole hymn below:
Psalm 77 [2]
In the Day of Trouble I Sought the LORD
For the choirmaster. According to Jeduthun. A Psalm of Asaph.
I cried out to God;
I cried aloud to God to hear me.
In the day of trouble I sought the Lord;
through the night my outstretched hands did not grow weary;
my soul refused to be comforted.
I remembered You, O God, and I groaned;
I mused and my spirit grew faint.
Selah
You have kept my eyes from closing;
I am too troubled to speak.
I considered the days of old,
the years long in the past.
At night I remembered my song;
in my heart I mused, and my spirit pondered:
“Will the Lord spurn us forever
and never show His favor again?
Is His loving devotion gone forever?
Has His promise failed for all time?
Has God forgotten to be gracious?
Has His anger shut off His compassion?”
Selah
So I said, “I am grieved
that the right hand of the Most High has changed.”
I will remember the works of the LORD;
yes, I will remember Your wonders of old.
I will reflect on all You have done
and ponder Your mighty deeds.
Your way, O God, is holy.
What god is so great as our God?
You are the God who works wonders;
You display Your strength among the peoples.
With power You redeemed Your people,
the sons of Jacob and Joseph.
Selah
The waters saw You, O God;
the waters saw You and swirled;
even the depths were shaken.
The clouds poured down water;
the skies resounded with thunder;
Your arrows flashed back and forth.
Your thunder resounded in the whirlwind;
the lightning lit up the world;
the earth trembled and quaked.
Your path led through the sea,
Your way through the mighty waters,
but Your footprints were not to be found.
You led Your people like a flock
by the hand of Moses and Aaron.
[1] Sofer, O. Calm. (version 5.10.1). Mobile application software. [2] Psalm 77, Berean Study Bible. (2016). Bible Hub. https://biblehub.com.
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