I am in a world of pain. Every ache, every pain dull or sharp descending on me. It’s part of the chronic illness life, and in a sense, I’m used to it. Still, when everything hurts at the same time it feels a little bit unbearable. It feels like wanting to throw in the towel and call it quits. It feels like wanting to give up.

When everything hurts at the same time, it’s tempting to let the darkness close in around you. You feel like you’re trapped. You feel like you’re drowning. You feel like your body is a prison and you’ll never be free. What is the point of living when living is so miserable?

That’s where I was this time last year. And if I’m being honest, I’m fighting myself to not be there again.

I had myself convinced that my body was a prison and I was forever chained to it. The pain was insurmountable, constant and there wasn’t an end in sight. Every night I’d lay on my bed sobbing because I didn’t want to go to sleep if it meant that I would have to wake up and do it all again. I even prayed for the Lord to take me home because I wanted to be done.

Spoiler alert – He didn’t.

Second spoiler alert – I’m glad.

Sometimes our bodies feel like prisons, and sometimes our minds do. Sometimes they both feel like prisons at the same time. But here is the thing that I was forgetting at this time last year, and that I need to remind myself of right now…

None of this is true.

Last year I felt like I walked through the valley of the shadow of death. (Well, to be honest there wasn’t much walking and that was part of the problem.) Maybe it’s better to say that I lived in the shadow of the valley of death for a time. It was a dark and lonely place. I felt alone, even though I wasn’t. I felt hopeless, even though there is always hope. I felt forgotten, even though He never left my side. I never understood Psalm 23 more than I did in those moments. But here is the thing. Walking through the shadow of the valley of death? That’s only one small line in the entire psalm.

The darkness lifted in a place that I least expected. Our church does a family weekend at a campground once a year, and while it is an enjoyable time for many(and certainly had been for myself) – I was completely dreading it. The previous year it had rained all weekend, and I had been in so much pain I could barely move.  I really didn’t want to go. The days leading up to it, I experienced the worst pain possible. I wasn’t sure how I was going to make it work, but I knew I had to try. We had a guest speaker and his family come and stay with us for the weekend, as we usually do. But this one was different from the rest. This guest speaker was in the middle of battling cancer. This guest speaker understood what it meant to walk through the valley of the shadow of death.

On the first evening, his wife stood up and gave a little testimony about their experience. Honestly, the rest of the weekend was a blur because the only thing that I can remember is what she said. She had said that when he first got his cancer diagnosis and things were hard and difficult, she was struggling to stay positive and be supportive because she was so overwhelmed by her thoughts of it all. So she decided to take every negative thought captive and realign it with the truth of scripture.

Was it really that simple? I wondered this as I hobbled to our car and drove home that evening. I wondered this as I got ready for bed and prepared for the worst. And then I stopped wondering, and decided to try.

“My body is not a prison,” I whispered to myself. “1 Corinthians says it’s a temple of the Holy Spirit. He wouldn’t stay in a prison.” I got into bed with ease and laid there comfortably for the first time in months. I fell asleep quickly, and felt like I was sleeping in the arms of the Lord. Since light and dark can’t exist in the same space, I started to feel it slowly peeling away. Impossibly, or rather, miraculously I felt relatively pain-free for the rest of the weekend.

A few days later, a very dear friend suggested I start a prayer group, dedicated to just praying for me. I thought it was a little selfish to ask for prayers just for me, but she (lovingly) threatened “if you don’t start a dedicated prayer group for yourself then I will.” And something beautiful was born. Have you experienced the loving prayers of friends? It quite literally changed everything for me, and it brings me to tears just thinking about it. Out of those prayers, we discovered problem areas that were causing the most pain. After a weekend visit from my parents and the wonderful help of some incredible friends, we solved the problems.

I remember shortly after that weekend, I was hit with a sudden realization. I had walked through the valley of the shadow of death, but I had feared no evil – His rod and His staff had comforted me. I had to correct my thinking like a shepherd’s rod corrects the wayward path of a sheep. The truth of scripture was the staff that guided me. And just like the psalm says, He had led me to green pastures. He had restored my soul.

Friends, I am still living in those green pastures. Even on difficult days like today. I could easily fall back into the valley of the shadow of death, but I pray I never do. Instead, I remember to speak these truths over myself: My body is not a prison. My mind is not a prison. It’s a temple, and the Spirit is in me.

Your prison might be different from mine, and most certainly your story is. Might I encourage you to search the scriptures to find the key to open your prison door? Freedom is better. Healing is better. Jesus is better. ❤️