‘Doubled up with pain, I call to God
All the day long. No answer. Nothing.
I keep at it all night, tossing and turning…
I’m a bucket kicked over and spilled,
Every joint in my body has been pulled apart.
My heart is a blob
Of melted wax in my gut.
I’m dry as a bone,
My tongue black and swollen.
They have laid me out for burial
In the dirt.’ (Psalm 22:2, 14-15 MSG)
Have you ever felt this way? I certainly have. I can relate to being ‘doubled up with pain’, especially during a lupus flare. I have felt my joints coming apart, my heart melting, my mouth dry and riddled with ulcers. I have experienced the sensation of being laid out flat on my back by illness, wondering if I would ever get up again. Perhaps you can relate too.
Psalm 22 above is known for its references to Jesus’ crucifixion, and personally I find it reassuring to know that Jesus—and the psalmist, David—knew about being sick and in pain. They knew how it felt to be kicked over, tossed about, melted down and laid out for burial.
That’s not all. In verse 2, it becomes clear that David (and Jesus) felt abandoned by God. ‘I call to God,’ laments David, ‘all the day long. No answer. Nothing.’ Have you experienced this? I’ve definitely had times where God seemed silent and I wondered if he cared at all.
Pain and illness can shipwreck our faith. Chronic illness, in particular, has a special way of wearing us down. Dealing with unabating pain as well as disabling and sometimes life-threatening complications has a way of eroding our hope. I have even reached a point where prayer seemed pointless.
‘If God isn’t going to help or heal me,’ I have wondered, ‘why bother to talk to him about it?’
‘If God isn’t going to help or heal me, why bother to talk to him about it?’
This, ultimately, is the question of faith. If God will not deliver us, will we still pray? Will we tell him our troubles, knowing he may leave us in them? Will we follow him when he seems silent and even absent? Each of us must find our own answer for this.
I hope God still cares. I think he does—most days, anyway. That’s why I follow him. Jesus has fully joined in with our pain and humanity by enduring the crucifixion. The psalms show us this deep understanding, this empathy, this common suffering, of the God who came to earth with us and for us.
Psalm 22, for all its agony, is strangely comforting. It reminds us that Jesus knows us and knows our pain. It gives voice to our complaining and our lament. Whatever you are going through, there is space in Jesus for complaining and lamenting.
Other psalms offer the reassurance of God’s care, such as in Psalm 41:
‘Whenever we’re sick and in bed,
God becomes our nurse,
Nurses us back to health…
You know me inside and out, you hold me together;
You never fail to stand me tall in your presence
So I can look you in the eye.’ (Psalm 41:3, 12 MSG)
I have certainly experienced God’s nurse-like care, even when he hasn’t spoken a word or provided instant healing. He has stayed with me, giving me the most loving thing he can think of: his presence. He has held me together when my body was disintegrating. He has stood me up after illness has flattened me. He knows me ‘inside and out’—what I say out loud, and what invisible illness is doing to my insides.
He has not abandoned me. He won’t abandon you either. Next time you’re ambushed by illness, I hope you can find space for lament in Psalm 22, and comfort in Psalm 41.
Do you have scriptures that help you during times of illness? Do you find prayer to be helpful when you are sick, perhaps in the form of complaining or lamenting? Has God’s presence ever been near during those times? Share your story. Let’s have a countercultural conversation.