Introduction:
**Trigger warning: intense distress**
I set out to write down what I know about despair. As thoughts started to pour out of me, I started reliving a particular “pain attack” I had in the past year. A pain attack is when you are in so much pain that you have a panic attack, which worsens the pain, which worsens the panic, until I end up at the hospital. This has happened several times in my life, and it is always deeply traumatic. These attacks bring me quickly to the depths of despair.
But after I finished writing down my account, something happened. I documented as much as I could immediately after it happened, but I don’t recall every word that was spoken. I did my best to faithfully communicate what I experienced. I hope it inspires you to open your heart to Jesus too.
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Despair is a pit.
An abyss.
A dark, cold, miserable place.
It is a lonely place, nobody can join you there.
It is a place so dark, hope is a tiny speck in the distance, seemingly impossible to reach.
Hope seems to wink at you, and after a certain point, it starts to feel like it is mocking you. Hope becomes a four letter word. An angry word. A dangerous word.
Hope leads to false hope, which leads to crushing disappointment.
And the abyss grows deeper.
A new symptom. A new set of chains. A new sentence. When was I declared guilty? And of what crime? Did I bring this on myself? Am I to blame for this? Is there something, anything I can do to reverse this? To escape from this? To not lose the will to live over this??
The darkness grows colder, the light further and further away.
A blip on the social media notifications tab. A glimmer of dopamine. A person has “seen” me. Has validated my existence. I check it.
It’s just a like.
The minimal effort one can make to acknowledge the existence of another human being. In the history of mankind.
It is a crumb. A speck of a crumb. But I am starving. I am starving in this pit. I gobble it up.
More! my soul cries.
I cannot stop scrolling.
But the longer I scroll,
The further down
I
Go.
The pain is bad today. Oooh it’s bad. Oh please don’t panic. Just breathe. Okay. Breathing.
Not helping.
Okay we will just stay in bed today. That’s okay, we have an iPad.
We will play inane games and while away the day, distracted from the pain.
After all, these digital cows aren’t going to feed themselves. And who will harvest the wheat? And how will I save up enough coins to buy the latest new building in my imaginary perfect city?
Nope, now the pain is getting worse. Oooh I don’t like this. Dammit I’m living at a baseline of 7/10. Anytime the number goes up on the pain scale, it quickly gets into panic territory. Hospital territory.
Don’t want to go to the hospital. Don’t want to go to the hospital. They are mean to me at the hospital. Don’t want to go to the hospital.
Just have to stay calm. Everything is okay.
God will protect me from harm. Won’t he?
Sure, I just have to believe really hard. Okay believe believe. Please God. Please have mercy on me. Forgive me for all the dumb stuff I do, I really try hard to be good. I try so hard, I promise,
Please look favorably upon this humble request.
Please take away the pain. Just dissolve it. You know you can, and I know you can… so this time can you step in and stop the pain? I’m afraid of the pain. It gets too bad, and I don’t like going to the hospital. They make me suffer at the hospital. I am not strong enough God. I am too tired. It has been too much, please God. Please. I am begging you. Please take the pain away. I can’t bear it. It is breaking me. I feel myself breaking. Please intervene this time God. I know you love me. I am thankful for all the ways you have blessed me. Thank you, Father. In Jesus’s name, Amen.
Okay just focus on thanking God. Just thank God.
Just relax and be okay. It’s all in your head. God will make it okay. Any minute now.
Maybe now!
Aaa stop thinking about it! Distract. Just distract.
Just feed the cows. And harvest the wheat. It will be okay. Everything is okay.
20 minutes go by.
Emily stop etching your pain grimace into your face, you are making permanent wrinkles and they are ugly. Stop it. Just relax your face, you’re fine. Everything is fine.
No I can’t stop the grimace, why won’t it relax. Just relax face! Argh.
I can’t bear it. I can’t escape it. I am cornered. It is too big. I can’t escape. It has me. It’s a 10. I’m at a 10 I need the hospital. Please Jason take me to the hospital.
Okay. Okay. It’s okay. We will get help. We are being helped. So we can calm down now, right? Just calm. Just stop grimacing, dammit. Stop grimacing. It’s ugly. Ow
Ow
Ow
Ow
Ow
Ow
Ow
Ow
Ow
Ow
Ow I can’t. Help me Jesus. I want to die, help me Jesus. Oh please help me Jesus. Jesus Jesus Jesus Jesus Jesus Jesus Jesus (this continues for a while)
I am scratching myself on the neck, on the forearm. I am scratching and it feels good. Why does it feel good? Who cares just keep doing it. Okay we are scratching. I like this scratching. This is okay. We can calm down now, right? Surely we can get through. We are on the way. On the way.
[I am rocking now.]
On the way. It’s okay. On the way. It’s okay. On the way.
Help me Jesus. Please please help me Jesus.
It’s okay on the way it’s okay on the way…
[my legs are banging together rhythmically.]
Ok ok there it is. The hospital. I made it.
Help me please, help I am in pain. Help. Help. Help.
[Sign any paper they hand me.]
Jason enters.
Help.
[now I am lying on the floor, writhing and hyperventilating.]
Help me Jesus. Help me Jesus. Help me Jesus
This continues until somebody comes and pulls me up and into a wheelchair.
Wheeee
I hate this. I hate this. Help me Jesus. I hate this.
IV. Now. Please help. Please help. Pain. Pain is bad. Help. Please help.
Why aren’t they hurrying? Where did the nurse go? I can’t, it’s agony, I can’t. Please help. Help me Jesus. Please help! Help me Jesus!
Okay there is an IV. Where is the medicine. Please medicine. Please now. Please let it be now. Oh please Lord Jesus. Please what do I have to say for this to work for me? Please Lord Jesus help me.
The medicine. Please medicine. Yay I will be okay it’s medicine time. Please medicine.
Ok. It’s in. It’s okay. It’s going to be okay soon. We can survive this. We will survive this. It’s coming. Any minute now.
[Note the faith I have in that IV bag.]
Any minute…. There it comes. Okay it’s always bad at first that’s okay. Oh it sucks at first why help no help ow ow ow ow ow ow ow
No it’s ok. It’s coming down. No it’s ok. We are ok.
We
Are
Okaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaay.
[Zzzzzz]
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I just wrote this.
And then I cried.
And then I repented, because I was blaming God for not rescuing me from those dark times, even though I begged.
I cried. And I begged him to forgive me.
I confessed that I could not figure out what words to say to deserve Jesus’s healing touch. I just couldn’t solve the riddle. I am stumped. Help me. Have mercy on me Lord Jesus.
Then my head was highlighted in a light.
The light traveled down my body, sort of like a scanner. Like my body was being scanned. Suddenly it felt like somebody’s cold hands were pressed flat against my face. Like a cold pressure against my whole face. Then two arms were lifting a crown made of light onto my head. And I felt love. Everywhere. I felt excitement in my head, like electricity. Then the electricity was everywhere on the surface of my body. It felt shivery, like a feathery touch or goosebumps. Tingly.
Jesus, are you healing me? I asked in my brain.
Yes child, came the answer.
Excitement.
I am afraid to move a muscle. I am afraid to find myself changed. I am in shock. Lord Jesus what just happened. Help. I am confused. You must tell me how to write this down. Tell me what to write.
Tell the truth, child.
I am blown away. Can I talk to Jesus? For real??
[I spend some time conversing with Jesus in the spirit]
I just spoke with the Lord, the King of kings and Lord of lords. Himself. I am obliterated. I am overjoyed. I am elated. I am at peace. I am in a state.
I just poured my heart out to the Lord. Confessed the deepest point of my pain. And I plucked it out and looked at it. Like an arrow. Like an arrow the enemy shot.
Then I got mad. And I yelled at the enemy to get out of my head and out of my body. In Jesus’s Mighty Name.
And whoa.
Something is different. Something is definitely different.
I will go to sleep and in the morning I will figure out what is different. I am sleepy.
Just let me write this down quickly.
Hang on, Jesus?
Yes child.
Can you give me some guidance? I have been adrift for a long time, I could really use a point in the right direction.
Testify.
Followup
It has been over a month since this encounter and everything has been getting better and better. I have a job now. I work 3-6 days a week. I love my job, and I am good at it.
I have less pain with every week that goes by. I am getting stronger every week.
I have peace and joy every day now. My heart is healed. I feel so loved and supported by God.
I know life won’t be smooth sailing, and I know the pain attacks may happen again, but I feel certain that I can persevere with Jesus by my side. He has been so so good to me.
What did I learn?
- You don’t have to be on your knees to approach the King. I was lying comfortably in my bed, but in the spirit I was crumpled at the feet of Jesus. And I reveled in His presence.
- If you want to see breakthrough, you need to open up your heart and bare its darkest recesses. Then Jesus can shine light on the darkness and make it disappear. But you must be brave enough to look right in the face of your own personal despair. Jesus can only come in if your heart is open. So open it up and invite him in!
- Those times I cried out to Jesus to heal me, Jesus was tortured right along with me. Because the truth I now understand is this: I needed in those desperate times to speak directly to the pain and take authority over it. What I did instead amounted to surrendering to the pain, lying in the fetal position while the enemy kicked me repeatedly. What Jesus wanted me to do is get up and roar like a lion at my pain. Jesus wanted me to understand that we are not instructed to ask God to fight the enemy. Not once. We are instructed to take authority, Jesus’s authority, which he conferred to us before he ascended into heaven; and with that authority, take power away from the enemy.