Pain — both physical and emotional — has been a persistent thread in my life. But in the middle of those dark hours, I’ve discovered something unexpected: the quiet, steady presence of the Holy Spirit.

When Pain Overwhelms

Over the decades of living with migraines and physical pain, I’ve noticed a pattern. It wasn’t just the pain that was unbearable — it was the darkness, the despair, and the deep, hollow sense of being cut off from all that is normal and good.

All I could do was surrender to the pain and hope that it would pass soon. Looking back now, I recognize the unimaginable hopelessness of those moments — entire stretches of time where I simply could not function. Sleep, when it came, felt like a gift. And even then, I would drift in and out, half-aware that the pain still existed, but my body had shut it out for a while, too exhausted to keep fighting.

There’s no real way to measure how much of my life I’ve spent in pain. But I know this — over 44 years, the accumulated days and months would be staggering.

What Medications Can’t Heal

The thing about pain is, people around us can only empathize. That’s the closest they can come. But the pain itself — it’s ours to carry, alone. If you’re reading this, I’m guessing you understand what I mean.

At some point, I realized that I needed a kind of help that was stronger than what painkillers could offer. There were moments when I took medication, and it didn’t work. And that feeling — knowing you’ve taken the tablet and now have to wait hours before another dose — is one of the most helpless, horrifying things. You’re left with no choice but to endure. There’s no shortcut, no escape hatch.

Learning to Pray Differently

It wasn’t until I reached the depths of despair that I began to understand: I needed something greater. Something higher. Something more permanent.

Growing up, we learn to pray. But we’re not always taught how to pray effectively. I would say things like, “God, please be with me” or “God, please help me.” But over time, I began to see that these prayers didn’t align with what I believed. God is with me. God is helping me. Why ask for what He has already promised, already done?

The same applied to healing. If I truly believe that Jesus died on the cross and overcame sickness and sin once and for all, then my healing was already accomplished. It’s not a future hope — it’s a finished work.

This realization shifted the way I prayed. I began praying from victory, not for it. I stopped pleading and started receiving. That mindset — that spiritual posture — has been part of my healing and restoration in ways that continue to transform me.

Presence Over Pain

But like I said — we aren’t taught this growing up. Prayer becomes a habit, a ritual, and unless we’re truly present in the moment, it’s easy to slip back into old patterns.

Last week, I had a migraine that completely debilitated me. It was a work day, so I took medication to push through. But it didn’t help. I forced myself to finish what I could before lying down. And as I lay there, I began to pray.

I’ve written before about how the Holy Spirit prays with us and for us when we can’t do it ourselves. That’s exactly what happened again. I found myself simply meditating on one phrase:

“Jesus, by your stripes and wounds, I am healed.” (Isaiah 53:4,5)

That’s all I could say, over and over as I drifted off to sleep.

It was a disturbed sleep, with waves of pain in my head and neck each time I stirred. Yet somehow, I kept praying — even in sleep. Looking back, I know that could only have been the Holy Spirit, carrying me through. Each time I tried to cry out “Please heal me,” I was gently reminded: Healing is already mine. Just accept it.

It was like being half-asleep, half-conscious, and fully held by grace.

The Answer I Didn’t Expect: Finding God In My Migraine

When I finally woke up, I realized three things:
First — I’d had the choice to be present in prayer, to truly show up. (I had chosen to be present.)
Second — I had the choice to believe what was already mine. (I had chosen to believe.)
Third — I couldn’t and wouldn’t have done this without the help of the Holy Spirit.

So, as I recollected what had happened, this question emerged:

“If I can have encounters with God in the depths of pain, does the pain matter?”

And now I know — it matters less and less. Because the encounter outweighs the agony. In the light of that nearness, pain loses its grip — like a shadow fleeing the morning sun. This is what healing is also about!

In recent years, I’ve prayed and asked God to help me grow and mature as a true follower of Christ. It’s encounters like these that prove to me that God is real and can use any situation for our good. The gift of these moments of closeness and revelation from within the dark clouds of something as random as unexpected as a migraine prove that God is in the details. Whoever said, no pain no gain was absolutely right! Ha ha ha