It’s been a while since my last blog post. Those of you who know me well, probably can correctly deduce that I’ve been too busy crocheting these days (which has been so much fun and has provided excellent therapy for my pain). I’d like to touch base about a recent experience and hopefully be briefer than usual. I currently am not feeling my best (headache, of course) and would like to minimize the time my eyes stare at a screen, but still feel the need to write.
These past months, I had, as a whole, been improving both physically and emotionally. However, these last 4-6 weeks or so, the migraines have ramped up. I’ve been taking more medication than usual, which leads to panic that I’m going to run out before the month is up and I’ll have to endure debilitating pain. Last night, I was somewhat caught off guard when I felt this anxiety grip me. It is such a familiar path for me, but-- by God’s grace--I had successfully avoided it for a while. As another migraine struck and I felt no choice but to take yet more medicine, I was sucked back into the black hole of despair, fear, and dread. I prayed, and realized it had been so long since I had prayed so earnestly, which is probably why both the physical and emotional pain felt so intense. I’d just been repressing worries instead of learning to sit with them and offer them to God. This was my familiar old cycle: building up anxieties until they burst to the surface, leading to an intense crying and praying fest. Clearly, it was much healthier when I was learning to pray and release emotions more regularly. Still, I feel Christ’s embrace whenever I return from my own negligence.
It’s a deep guttural cry I had formerly grown used to. I can physically feel it come from the bottom of my stomach. And even though I felt I was drowning in the midst of despair as my head throbbed more and more, I still felt a sense of peace. This is a weird contradiction of emotions I have experienced many times-- every time I repress anxieties for too long and finally “break.”
It dawned on me that the person I was at that moment-- drenched in sadness and dread-- was in some sense, who I really am at my core. And that’s who all of us really are when left to our own devices : wretched sinners drowning in our own despair. It also dawned me that this is how I should feel every time I’m in the confession line. While I do feel genuine remorse for my many transgressions, I probably have never felt the full weight of my sins, otherwise I would’ve been fully crushed. It might be a grace God has shielded me from this degree of shame. And perhaps he’s allowing me to feel a glimpse of it in my darker hours, like my experience last night. I remember Catholic speaker/author Scott Hahn, in a talk about confession, explaining how the healing that takes place during absolution is infinitely more magnificent than any miracles of physical healing Jesus performed while on Earth. I really need to let these two things sink in. First, I need to recognize that my physical pain, no matter how severe, can’t compare with the spiritual wounds I inflict on myself when I sin. Secondly, I need to recognize that every time I receive absolution for my sins, the reality of healing is far greater than if God took away all physical pain from me from this point on. What greater healing could I ask for than to be saved from eternal damnation, the natural consequence of my sins?
The greater the pain God allows us to feel, the higher our capacity to feel joy. The more we realize how badly we need saving, the more we love and rejoice in our savior. I think that’s where that peace comes from every time I emotionally breakdown. Perhaps God allows me to feel just a tiny fraction of the weight of my sins and the weight of the world’s sins at these dark moments because it so greatly multiplies my joy knowing that Jesus has already conquered sin, pain, and death.
On a slightly different but related topic, all of this makes me understand more fully the need to pray for others, both those in Purgatory and those here on Earth who may be in danger of not even making it to Purgatory. I’m not totally sure of why exactly this connection exists, but sometimes the gravity of my physical and emotional pain makes me feel agony on the behalf of those who’ve committed great sins, like murder or rape. I think I’m just simply scared for those who are so lost, especially those who didn’t have the great advantage of a religious and privileged upbringing like I did. I’m afraid they won’t repent and will go to Hell, where they will experience infinitely more agony than I do on Earth when I have even the worst migraine. And while I know I need to trust in God who is all good and loving, I still believe it’s perfectly appropriate and good to fear for souls who may be in this mortal danger. Jesus is, of course, the one who saves, but He chooses to use our prayers in His plan of salvation. He may be nudging me to pray for great sinners, so that He can use those prayers to save their souls. More strongly than ever, I feel the vocation to cooperate in this way.
I’ve heard of saints asking God for suffering so that souls may be saved. This is a level of selflessness I can’t even fathom. Most of the time, I feel I’d do just about anything for God to heal my migraine, and cannot comprehend a reality where I’d ask for more (or worse) migraines. Still, I’ve decided to frequently ask God to use my past migraines and moments of profound suffering as reparations for those in danger of hell, if He chooses to do so. (I kind of feel sneaky, like I’ve found a loophole here, since God is outside of time). Ever since I’ve started doing so, it’s really the first time I’ve felt my pain can be really useful.
Well, I don’t have a nice, tidy conclusion and I recognize this post may be a bit scattered at the end. I seldom (if ever) have really large, profound things to say that can be composed in a truly satisfying way. Even truly believing in the healing and saving power of Christ, I still have great fear of migraines even in just the next few weeks. My perspective is still, as a whole, very narrow-sighted, and I wanted to be fully honest and humble here. It’s funny how God can grace us with this ability to see these greater truths and yet we still instinctually revert back to our little burrow of earthly worries. Still, many times when I am able to poke my head out, even if just for instance, I feel God’s grace flood me with love, reassurance, and new insights. And while I don’t have anything wholly new or original to say, I’m grateful to be able to be a tiny echo to the truths we know, thanks to scripture, the Church, and the lives of many saints. Jesus died for the pain you are feeling today. He offers limitless spiritual healing through the sacrament of Confession, and looks forward to healing you in your entirety (body and soul) in Heaven. Offer your pain on the behalf of the world’s sins so that more souls can also be healed. Amen!
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