Roller Coasters...

With the Imitrix, I do have some time that is headache free, but only respites.  Since the directions seem pretty specific about how much and how often you can take the medication, I am also still trying the extra strength aspirin and ice packs, the combination most recommended by others who have battled hormonal migraines.  And, yes, I am still that rather base form of myself.  Truly, I never would have thought that migraines would be so much worse than anything I have experienced.

It would be a gross understatement to say that I am exhausted.  I sleep in spurts, awaking to stumble down stairs for a fresh ice pack or for more pieces of this ginger candy that I found on line.  To say that it is strong would be another gross understatement.  Perhaps I am mistaken, but I do believe that it is helping my nausea. So much so that instead of ordering another bag or two, I took the far, far more economical route over the long term and ordered a case of bags.  So, should you visit me, you are required to consume at least one.  That way, everyone in the house has the same...strong...breath!

I have not really done all that well on increasing my water intake, all liquids for that matter.  Is it possible to be too tired to drink?  I have not really done all that well in transitioning to 6-8 small meals a day.  However, I have significantly reduced the amount of what I eat each time that I eat.  Yes, the glutton in me is finding that rather difficult to do.  And when I have had a more normal sized meal while eating out, I have not eaten again afterwards.  I will say that I have not had an early morning writhing in agony session since Sunday, I believe. I have had two uncomfortable and nauseous times, but those were much more manageable.  Perhaps I should have realized that I need to make a much slower transition, need to give myself more grace.  Perhaps I should allow that it is okay for me to struggle not merely against the change in eating but the necessity of doing so and the future that most likely awaits me and my innards.

Aside from that future, I am worried about the immediate future.  In less than a day, my guest will be here and not a smidge more cleaning has been done.  Nary a wipe or sweep or scrub.

SIGH.

My pastor talked with me about names the other day.  I would give most anything in the world to have his words written, but, alas, he was speaking about something that was on his mind, not a sermon he had written.  So...fair warning...another butchering the sweet, sweet Gospel is forthcoming.

He was thinking about names.  Names, he said, establish a relationship and an identity.  They form a bond, a connection, between people, especially between the one who gives the name and the one who receives it.  So...don't laugh at my appalling ignorance, but he asked me if I knew what Jesus means.  I told him that if I ever did, I do not now.  He told me that Jesus means: He saves.

I then asked him if Christ meant anything.  He told me that it was not a name, but a title, a proclamation of  Jesus' status: His royal lineage, a king.

So, my pastor was thinking about the fact that in our baptism, Jesus gives us His name.  He places His name upon us and, by doing so, establishes this relationship, this bond, this identity.  We are family.  We are family to the One who saves.  And in giving us His name, He also gives us His status: We are Christians.  We are royalty.

So, when I call upon the name of Jesus, I am both asking for salvation and proclaiming that I have been given salvation because He is the one who saves...saves all...saves me.  When I identify myself as a Christian, I am proclaiming that I am royalty because of the relationship established when Jesus placed His name upon me.

Upon the sinner.
Upon the one who wails and worries.
Upon the one who struggles to believe, to accept the wonder, the miracle of every for you of the sweet, sweet Gospel might also be for me.

I have written why I gave Amos his name.  Thinking about what my pastor said, in giving him the name I chose, I was establishing a relationship and identity for him.  He is my beloved puppy dog and he is a gift from the One who promises that there will one day be a time when the plowman will overtake the reaper and when the mountains will drip sweet wine.  He is a tangible, daily, loving reminder of the promises of God.

The name of Jesus is a tangible, daily, loving reminder of the promises of God.  How is a name tangible?  Because not only did Jesus give the sound, the knowledge of His name, but He gives His very body and blood, the tangible embodiment of His name, each and every time we come to the altar...or the altar comes to us.

I hate roller coasters.  If you know me, you know this.  I avoid them, would never venture upon them at a theme park.  Yet I live on not one but many:  digestion, blood sugar, hormones/emotions, and now migraines.  And it has been firmly established that I am no suffering saint.  I do not have my first act be to call upon the name of Jesus.  Truly, it is my fifth or sixth act.  I tremble and shake in fear. I drown in misery. I despair over how I will face the next minute, much less the next day or month or year.  I castigate myself for my lack of faith. But at the beginning, middle, and end of my wild, horrid ride, there exists within me a great longing for the Living Word, particularly the words of the Psalms in my ears, poured over me and spoken to me.

This is not because I am a suffering saint.  It is because I was given the name of Jesus.  It is because of a relationship established by Jesus, not me.  Established by the God who established the convenant with Abraham, not Abraham.  Established by the God who came to man, not man to Him.  Established by the God who lived and died and rose again to save man, a sinful man incapable of saving himself.

It is not me, but Jesus.
It is Jesus, not me.
Jesus for me.
Even on roller coasters.
Even in my weakness.
Even when I am my basest self.

Because given to me is the name of Jesus.  The One who saves.  Active.  Certain.  Promised.  The One who saves, not the One who might save.  The One who saves me!


Lord, I believe.  Help my unbelief!