Only Jesus For My Pain

I’ve been following Cory Asbury for a while now; you may know him from his song, Reckless Love. His honest story-telling and soothing voice on his albums draws me in each time, and some of his songs are the ones I turn to the most these days. 

There is a video circulating on the internet of him talking to a group of men in a correctional facility about the meaning behind one of his songs titled “Only Jesus for My Pain.”

Cory opens up about his encounter with medical marijuana to try and combat chronic back pain. In the funny yet emotional and heart-breaking story, Cory opens up in a very real and vulnerable way. He recounts how desperate he was for relief and how he would try anything to get rid of his pain. 

He jokes how he hasn’t told the story yet because he is afraid of getting canceled in the Christian music industry. He is well aware that the taboo topic of medical marijuana is risky to admit in public. 

But as he brings out into the light something that he was hiding in the darkness, something amazing happens. We see his focus shift, and God brings him clarity. In his very real, honest, and vulnerable story, we get to relate. His struggle is our struggle. His clarity can be our revelation, too. 

I recently flew to Michigan to visit my family for 24 hours and attend my grandmother’s funeral. It was a whirlwind trip, as I was in and out of six airports and on and off four flights. It was worth it, but the last flight gave me the dizzying, unsteady feeling that I’ve gotten many times over the last several years. The familiar uneasiness of anxiety takes over my body, leaving me spinning. I fight through the fog until it’s gone, and I pray it doesn’t come back. 

Cory says in his song:

“I thought I’d live to see the day

That I could outgrow grace

But since I’m on my knees again

Seems this is where we meet again

Only Jesus for my pain”

In his struggle, he desperately wanted to finally be free from needing God. As awful as that sounds, I actually relate. 

I don’t want to always need help. 

I don’t want to beg for grace. 

I want to be okay on my own: independent, self-sufficient, fulfilled, and steady. 

I want to be strong. 

Working with teens at Thornwell has taught me that they need to learn dependence on God, too. They might not have had someone they could trust before. Now, we have the opportunity to love them unconditionally like the Father loves us even when we break free and cry for our independence. 

These teens have tried to numb the pain. They know what works, temporarily. I want to invite them to taste and see that the Lord is good, and his mercies are new every morning. I hope they can see that every time they find themselves on their knees again, they can look up. 

On that airplane, as I stared out the window, wishing the tightness in my chest would go away, I thought Only Jesus for my pain.

God has been with me through years of infertility, financial struggles, countless moves across cities and states, marriage trials, ministry difficulties, adoption battles, and parenting highs and lows. 

I, too, have tried many things for my pain, but I always come back to Him. 

He’s the only one who is there every second I need Him. 

He’s the comfort for all that ails me. 

He’s the reason I get up in the morning. 

Lord, I prayed on the airplane. 

Hold my anxiety for me. You take it. 

I stared at the window and breathed in and out, in and out. This wasn’t the first time I would be dependent on Him for each breath, and it wouldn’t be the last. 

Only Jesus for my pain.