SPNutrition ad: What Scripture knew about blood sugar

I've walked with the Lord for over 40 years. Last month, three words in a psalm I've read every Good Friday of my life stopped me cold. I'm 61. I've taught Sunday school at my church for fourteen years. My faith isn't something I practice, it's who I am. Which is why I can't believe it took me this long to see what I'm about to share with you. Eight years ago I was diagnosed with type 2 diabetes. And I did everything they told me. I gave up the bread. I bought the food scale. I walk after dinner every night, rain or not. I check my number every morning and write it in a notebook. And every year, the number climbs anyway. 500 of metformin became 1000. Then 2000. Then a second pill last year. My morning number parks in the 150s no matter what I ate the night before. My A1c went 6.9, 7.2, 7.6, 7.9. And the things nobody could explain. Calf cramps at 2am that put me on the bedroom floor. Wide awake at 3am, heart doing something I could feel, and a meter that said 158 with nothing eaten since six. Thirsty all the time. Up twice a night. My doctor ran the full panel. Kidneys, thyroid, everything. All normal. "This isn't your fault. Diabetes is progressive. I think it's time we talked about insulin." Progressive. I know what that word means in my family. It means my mother's foot. I prayed about it. Every morning, every night. And I carried something to those prayers I'd never said out loud. The quiet feeling that this was a self-control problem. A fruit of the Spirit I'd failed at. Nobody at church said it. They didn't have to. The sugar-free pie showed up next to my plate at the potluck without anyone asking. If I was doing everything right, why was the disease winning anyway? And why did I feel like it was my fault? Then came that Tuesday morning. I was preparing a lesson on Psalm 22. The psalm Jesus quoted from the cross. "My God, my God, why have you forsaken me." I've read it every Good Friday of my life. But that morning, for the first time, I kept reading past the first verse the way David wrote it. And I got to verse 14. "I am poured out like water, and all my bones are out of joint. My heart has turned to wax; it has melted within me. My mouth is dried up like a potsherd, and my tongue sticks to the roof of my mouth." Psalm 22:14-15 I read it three times. Poured out like water. Bones out of joint. A mouth dried up. I'd been up twice that night to use the bathroom. I'd drunk a full glass of water at 3am and still woken up with my tongue stuck to the roof of my mouth. If you have type 2, you know exactly what I mean. Three thousand years ago, David described my nights. The three words that would not let me go were poured out like water. Not "I am tired." Not "I am weak." Poured out. Like something was leaving my body and I couldn't stop it. It felt like a nudge I wasn't supposed to ignore. So I did something I'd never done in 40 years of reading. I started searching what Scripture actually says about being poured out, and about bones. What I found floored me. Bones are mentioned in the Bible well over a hundred times. And almost every time, they mean far more than a skeleton. "When I kept silent, my bones wasted away through my groaning all day long." Psalm 32:3 "A merry heart is good medicine, but a broken spirit dries the bones." Proverbs 17:22 "This will bring health to your body and nourishment to your bones." Proverbs 3:8 Over and over, Scripture puts your strength, and your reserves, in your bones. In Hebrew the word for bone, etsem, is nearly the same as the word for your very self. When something reaches your bones, it has reached the deepest part of you. And David, in the same breath, says his bones are out of joint and his body is pouring out like water. The reserves and the drain. In one verse. I sat back in my chair. And then I remembered Daniel. Daniel chapter 1. Four young men in Babylon, ordered to eat from the king's table. Daniel refuses. He asks the guard for a test. "Please test your servants for ten days. Give us nothing but vegetables to eat and water to drink. Then compare our appearance with that of the young men who eat the royal food." Daniel 1:12-13 Ten days later: "They looked healthier and better nourished than any of the young men who ate the royal food." Daniel 1:15 I've taught that story to nine-year-olds. I'd always taught it as a story about obedience. But that morning I read it as what it actually is. A controlled test. Two groups, same palace, ten days, compare. The Bible's first clinical trial, 2,600 years ago. So I did what I should have done years ago. I looked up what Daniel was actually eating. The Hebrew word is zeroa. Things grown from seed. Lentils. Beans. Peas. Grains. The same foods Scripture uses to describe the promised land. Wheat and barley. Figs. Lentils. Almonds. Seeds. And there's a bread in the health food aisle with a verse printed on the bag. Ezekiel 4:9. Wheat, barley, beans, lentils, millet and spelt. Half the diabetics I know have bought it at least once. So I looked up what those foods have in common. What is actually in a lentil that isn't in the king's table? The answer was one mineral. Magnesium. Here's what modern research has confirmed about it, and I want you to read this part slowly, because it explains eight years. Insulin is a key. Its job is to open your cells so sugar can get out of your blood and in where it's burned. But insulin doesn't turn the lock by itself. Magnesium does. Without enough of it, insulin knocks and knocks and the door stays shut. The sugar stays in your blood. Your body reads that as "more insulin" and your doctor reads it as "more pills." That's the first half. Here's the half nobody told me. When your sugar runs high, your kidneys try to protect you. They flush the extra sugar out in your urine. And when they do, magnesium goes out with it. Poured out like water. I put my coffee down. That's what David was describing. Not tiredness. A body pouring out something it needed and couldn't keep. The higher your number, the more you lose. Less magnesium, insulin works worse. Sugar runs higher. More goes down the drain. Year after year. That's the loop. And for a lot of us, that loop is what gets called "progressive." It isn't your pancreas giving up. It's a hole nobody's ever plugged. And every time the number creeps, they give you a pill for the number. Not one thing for the drain. And the water pill I take for my blood pressure? Same drain. Second hole. Up to half of people with type 2 are low in this mineral. I've been in a diabetes group for eight years and not one person had ever mentioned it. Not my doctor. Not the nurse with the plastic plate. Nobody. But here's the part that stopped me cold. Where does your body store its magnesium? Less than one percent of it is in your blood. More than half of it is in your bones. Your bones are the reservoir. And when the drain runs year after year, your body pulls from the bones to keep the blood looking fine. Quietly. For years. All my bones are out of joint. And my eight years of "normal" labs? The test only reads the one percent. And your body sacrifices everything to keep that one percent looking fine. The test was reading the checking account. The shortage was in the vault. Everything they tested was fine. The thing that wouldn't have been fine, nobody tested. They had a word for it instead. Progressive. And a word is where the investigating stops. It explained the cramps. A calf that seizes at 2am is a muscle that can't let go, and letting go is what this mineral does. I'd been told that was my age. It explained the 3am number. Your stress response is a thermostat. It turns up under pressure and it needs magnesium to turn back down. When you're empty, it sticks on high, and your liver gets the message to dump sugar all night for an emergency that isn't coming. That's the 158 at 3am with nothing eaten since six. That's why the hard weeks ran straight over three pills. And it explained the woman in my Sunday school class. Diagnosed a year after me. Starter dose of metformin. 5.8, six years running. I'd been quietly furious at her for years. If this disease is progressive, why hasn't it progressed for her? Here's something else I found. Hospitals still reach for magnesium today, quietly, when it matters most. Walk into a delivery ward or a cardiac unit and you'll find magnesium drips hanging by the beds. When the body is in crisis, it's one of the first things they give. But nobody runs commercials for a mineral. It can't be patented. There's no fortune in telling you about something God already put in the ground. So no one does. And modern life cut us off from it everywhere else. The mills strip most of it out of our flour and never mention what they removed. Decades of hard industrial farming have drained it from the soil our food grows in. The king's table won. He stocked His creation with it. The promised land foods. Daniel's lentils. Every generation before us topped up their reserves daily without knowing it. The provision didn't fail. We paved over it. And now we get less magnesium than any generation in history, not even half what our mothers got. And a body with high blood sugar pours out what little it gets. That's not a self-control problem. That's a drain. For days after finding all of this, I kept asking myself one question. How do you put back what eight years has poured out? Now, maybe you're thinking exactly what I thought. "I take magnesium. Every night." So did I. For three years, for the cramps. The bottle from the drugstore was on my nightstand that morning. Here's what I didn't know. I turned it over and read the back. Magnesium oxide. The cheapest form there is, and your body absorbs about four percent of it. The rest goes straight through you, which on a metformin stomach is its own kind of punishment. Not all magnesium is the same. Most forms never make it to where the problem actually lives. There is one form that crosses the blood brain barrier. It's called magnesium bisglycinate, and it's why absorption is up to 90 percent. It's also gentle on the stomach, which after eight years of metformin mattered more than it sounds. Whatever was in that bottle, it never arrived. That's why nothing happened. One last thing held me back, and I suspect it might be holding you back too. Part of me believed I shouldn't need help with this. That a woman with more self-control wouldn't be here. That my body was a temple and I'd let it go. If that's you, hear me. When Elijah lay down under the broom tree and said "I have had enough, Lord," God didn't lecture him on discipline. He sent an angel with bread and water. Twice. "Get up and eat, for the journey is too much for you." 1 Kings 19 When His servant ran out, God's answer was food. Not a sermon. And David, poured out like water, wasn't being punished. He was being emptied. A body that's pouring out what it needs is not a failed faith. He built your bones to store what your insulin needs. He filled the land with it. I wasn't replacing prayer, or my medication. I was putting back what He always meant to be there. And I need to be clear, because this matters. I'm not a doctor, and I'm not telling you to do what I did. I didn't stop, skip or change a single pill. You shouldn’t either. All I know is that magnesium is a natural mineral your body needs. So I went looking for bisglycinate. That search was more frustrating than the discovery. Labels that say one thing and mean another. Blends. Buffered this and proprietary that. Capsules everywhere, and I take enough pills already. Then one evening I came across this article that explains how magnesium works in the body and all the different forms. Absorption, purity, dose, the works. Eight years of cinnamon and berberine and apple cider vinegar made me skeptical of everything. But I don't believe I found it by accident. I picked the one that came out on top and ordered that night. Day one, nothing. I want to be honest about that. I'd promised myself I'd give it a month. End of week one, two things. I fell asleep faster, the forty minutes of ceiling staring shrank to ten. And on Thursday I realized I hadn't been on the bedroom floor holding my calf all week. Week two, I slept through the night. Straight through. No 3am. And that Friday I sat on the edge of the bed and checked, the way I've checked every morning for eight years. 118. I checked again with a new strip. 116. I told myself not to get excited. One morning after eight years means nothing. Then 121. Then 114. Then 119. First week under 120 in over two years. Nothing about my medication changed. Same pills. Same doses. The exact chart my doctor had looked at and said the word insulin. By week three the changes showed up in the daylight. I wasn't carrying a water bottle from room to room. I taught my whole lesson without my mouth going dry. I wrote a 117 in the notebook and sat looking at it for a while. Small things. But when you have prayed about something every morning and every night, small things feel like answered prayers. Then my husband said something that undid me a little. "Deb, you haven't been up once this week." He'd been listening for me for years. I didn't need him to say anything else. At the next potluck, my daughter asked me which pie I wanted. Nobody had asked me that in two years. That was two months ago. I still have type 2 diabetes. This didn't cure me, and anyone who tells you a bottle will is selling something I want no part of. I still take my pills. I still check every morning. My number still climbs on a hard week. But it comes back down now. And the word insulin hasn't come up since. "I am poured out like water, and all my bones are out of joint." Psalm 22:14 I'd only ever read that verse looking at the cross. That morning I read it looking at my own kitchen table. I think He meant for both. If your number climbs no matter what you eat. If you've been handed the word progressive and a brochure. If there's a bottle of magnesium on your nightstand that "did nothing." If you've been quietly carrying the feeling that this is your fault. I know exactly where you are. I was there for eight years. I've linked the article I found below. It’s got the magnesium I used, and it's how I finally chose right after years of choosing wrong. Go and see it for yourself 👇 https://spnutrition-us.com/pages/advertorial-magnesium