When Vision Changes

The first time I ever got a migraine, I was nine years old.

I called it an "eye headache" and spent much of the morning cuddled in my parents' bed, eating Cheerios, and waiting for the sun to go away.

Nine years later, these "eye headaches" worsened, and a neurologist quickly diagnosed me with "chronic, intractable, disabling migraines with encephalopathy features" (oh my!).

Contrary to popular belief, migraines are not just painful headaches. They are a

neurological rebellion—the brain's attack on itself—which triggers a wave of neuronal hyperactivity. Oftentimes, migraines cause intense pain, nausea, confusion, sensory changes, and even motor weakness.

For me, migraines also come with aura. Slowly, my vision changes, and a collidascope of colors consumes my view; until finally, my sight returns, and the headache begins.

Seeing Clearly

It's scary to realize that you're losing your vision. It's scary to realize that everything around you is suddenly unclear. Slowly, what you thought you knew—what you thought you should see or understand—is gone, and by the time your vision returns, the pain sets in.

I remember the first time my vision literally changed.

But I also remember the times when my vision metaphorically changed. When I saw a woman preach. When one of my friends came out as transgender. When I took Religion 150 as a college sophomore. And when I witnessed my first protest.

I bet we can all remember these moments...

When we saw our parents mess up. Bad. When we heard a pastor say something we didn't agree with. When we saw something upsetting on the news, when we witnessed violence, when we read something in the Bible that didn't seem to add up to our experience of the world...

These moments—these intractable, disabling points of change—are disorienting.

They are scary.

They are painful.

What do we do when we cannot see the world in the same way that we did before? Is there a neurologist we can see? A medicine we can take? How do we stop the discomfort of a changing view?!

Falling Scales

In all honesty, I'm not sure:)

In the book of Acts, we hear a story about a man named Saul. Known for his religious zeal and commitment to the Jewish faith, Saul was a man of God. He was also not a fan of Christians. To Saul, Christians were nothing but a bunch of heretics. They were wrong. Corrupt. Loose in their interpretation of scripture.

And so, Saul spent much of his career persecuting and identifying Jesus's followers. He followed God... Or at least, he thought he was following God.

But, like us, Saul was blind to the error of his perspective. He needed a change in vision.

Saul... A leader... A "holy" man... A devoted follower of God... Saul needed change.

In Acts 9, an angel of the Lord covers Saul's eyes with scales. For days, Saul's vision is obstructed. And for days, Saul stumbles through the disorienting change of sight... But... as the scales finally fall, Saul is changed for the better.

With this new change, Saul embraces Jesus's good news, and renames himself Paul, becoming a key figure in the Gentile movement, an advocate for Jesus, and an encourager of men and women alike. Today, we attribute over half of the New Testament to him:)

The Tool Box

This Fall, I begin seminary at Candler School of Theology (eek!!). I know, like all people know, that deep engagement with holy texts, worship, and spiritual community means change. Some of the ideas that I blogged about at 19 years old will not hold true when I graduate at 25. Some of the hills that I'd die on in college might make me chuckle later.

But change is not bad. Chasing God isn't either (just ask the disciples!).

When I think about the Fall or even my day-to-day challenges, I am reminded of the shifts in vision I experience on a weekly basis. I am also reminded of the tools I've collected since I was nine:

1. When our visions change, we must slow down and take care of ourselves.

Change is difficult, but through change, we can ask ourselves, What are our feelings trying to teach us right now? What is the Holy Spirit trying to teach us? This is the most important step.

2. Other people aren't always going to get it.

If you've ever dealt with a chronic health condition (or even a mental or physical ailment), I'm sure you've seen it... By trying to sympathize with the hurting, most people default to relating.

"Oh yeah, I get headaches too." "Ha, seasonal depression is the worst! I am so cold!" "Who doesn't doubt every now and then? You'll get over it." Many times, these well-intentioned remarks feel frustrating. Your frustration is normal. Feel it.

3. But then... Don't feel/do it alone.

Feeling misunderstood is isolating (and fuel for isolation), but we are not designed to carry our burdens in solitude. Grief, sorrow, frustration, and pain are communal activities, and therefore, we must experience them communally. Confide in listeners, not just reactors. Talk with people who've felt your pain.

4. And then...talk to professionals.

Doctors, neurologists, pharmacists... Ministers, theologians, professors... These individuals have devoted their entire careers to counseling others. Let us take advantage of this opportunity.

And then... Let's get a second opinion:)

A Blessing

Advent People, for all who are experiencing change right now... For all who are experiencing the pain that accompanies a changing vision... You are not alone. Every truth-seeker, God-searcher, and follower of the Way of Christ has experienced this paralyzing acknowledgment.

It's the stuff of the Old Testament. The New Testament. Progress. Justice. Love. Following God and asking the questions that God has placed on our hearts means change.

So... blessed are you. Blessed are we:) For we are taking the sacred, difficult steps of the curious, doubtful, and faithful servants who came before us. We are walking in the steps of Thomas, Jesus, Martha, and Paul.

May we continue this walk, taking care of ourselves, finding community, and leaning on those who love us. Amen.