I waited impatiently in the doctor’s office, trying to find a comfortable position that decreased the burning in my lower body after driving an hour to get there. After what seemed like forever, the orthopedic surgeon entered the room and said, “Mrs. Roland, I’ve looked at your MRIs and X-rays. Your symptoms don’t align with your imaging. You don’t need back surgery—there’s something else going on.” I’m referring you to get some more blood work, follow up with a rheumatologist, and see a neurologist.
That appointment was 13 months ago. Since then, I’ve seen the rheumatologist, multiple neurologists, a vascular surgeon, and a pain specialist. I’ve had six cortisone injections in various locations to identify the cause of the burning, been on half a dozen medications to find one with the fewest side effects, and had four more MRI’s of my spine, which doctors used to conclude that the nerve pain wasn’t coming from my back.
In October of 2018, I herniated a disk in my spine and had back pain combined with burning in my feet that gradually increased over time. Within a few months, the pain traveled up my legs and was so intense that I couldn’t stand for even ten minutes. I was put on bed rest for three months and told not to drive, bend over, exercise, or lift anything more than ten pounds. I used a mechanical arm to empty the washing machine and had to arrange for my husband and friends to drive my three kids around. After that, my weeks were full of physical therapy, and eventually, my back pain subsided, but the burning sensation in my legs and feet did not.
Hearing the surgeon say the pain wasn’t from my back that day came as a shock. “It wouldn’t start in your feet and travel up your legs,” he told me. How had no other doctor in the past year noticed this?
The blood work he ordered came back normal, like the tests and lab work that preceded it, and I learned about the disappointment of “no news” and the anxiety that ensues we when don’t receive answers. I learned what it’s like to be ushered into one doctor’s office after another, be treated like a number, and wonder if I’m going crazy. I learned what it’s like to feel a lack of control like there’s little I can do to fix things. In lobbies filled with people twice my age, I felt out of place and utterly discouraged.
Pain often becomes a window for shame to enter, and this was true for me. I was a health coach that was not well. A personal trainer who could not run. A writer who couldn’t sit at the computer without being so uncomfortable that I began to question whether God had truly called me to this. How did I, someone previously in great health who ate well and exercised regularly, end up here? Following one of the steroid injections, a nurse commented that I was the “fittest patient” she’d ever seen in their practice. “I don’t understand why you’re not getting any better,” she told me.
That made two of us.
Over the past couple of years, chronic pain and anxiety became strongholds in my life. I’ve lost many hours worrying about my health and what the future holds instead of taking hold of the divine weapons God gives us to experience peace, hope, and joy despite difficult circumstances. My hope is that this post will help you bypass the strongholds you may be experiencing so you can walk toward healing and wholeness in Christ.
The Effects of Physical & Emotional Pain
The effects of physical and emotional pain are many, including anger, fear, grief, doubt, feelings of worthlessness, depression, and anxiety. We see all of these played out in the Bible. Take Job, who lost virtually everything – his money, health, livestock, even his children. Job was so angry that he curses the day he was born (Job 3:1). He doubts God’s goodness when He accuses him of being unjust (Job 9:22-24). He was plagued by fear and distress, as shown when he cries out, “What I was afraid of has come upon me. What filled me with fear has happened. I am not at rest, and I am not quiet. I have no rest, but only trouble” (Job 3:25-26 NLV). Job brings his grief to God and we witness the turmoil that results when we try to make sense of pain through our limited worldview.
In Psalm 38:4-8, David laments about his battle with both physical and emotional pain when he writes, “My guilt has overwhelmed me like a burden too heavy to bear. My wounds fester and are loathsome because of my sinful folly. I am bowed down and brought very low; all day long I go about mourning. My back is filled with searing pain; there is no health in my body. I am feeble and utterly crushed; I groan in anguish of heart.” Here David feels helpless, but, like Job, He brings his complaints to God.
Then there’s Joseph, the favored son with big dreams who literally finds himself in a pit, sold into slavery, and imprisoned. Though he is betrayed, unjustly accused, isolated, and forgotten, he continues to pray and God brings his dreams to fruition in His perfect timing.
Pain surfaces an awareness of our own brokenness, which is difficult for us to bear. It disrupts our desire for comfort and ease, two things our culture puts up on a pedestal. And it leads us to feel like reduced versions of ourselves–helpless and insufficient compared to the life we once led or wish we had. But, here’s the good news: “It’s possible for your pain to propel you to a place of wholeness rather than defeat.” This is a quote from Tim Tebow, Professional Baseball Player for the New York Mets, Former NFL Quarterback, broadcaster & author. Wholeness–a state of well-being in body, soul, and spirit–was God’s original design for humanity before the fall and it is His greatest desire for us today.
As I was writing this, God revealed something that has been pivotal for me to break free from strongholds and move toward wholeness. Here’s it is: Pain wasn’t the stronghold, nor was it something I could control. The way I was thinking about pain was the stronghold.
Anxiety is rooted in fear, which exists in thoughts about our future. Worrying about what could happen doesn’t change the outcome, but it does distract us from experiencing the present. The enemy wants to use worry and fear to paralyze us from moving forward. But, we have a choice. We can choose to pivot from allowing pain to lead us down a regrettable path toward anxiety and defeat to instead inviting it to propel us toward wholeness.