Archive for the The Journey Category

God knows the ways our hearts most need to hear from him. He knows our questions, even when the ache in our souls cannot find a way to express them. So I have learned again over these past weeks, when my heart and soul have been so dry and thirsty, He is there to water me.

This world is not a safe place. Darkness and danger lurk in bedroom closets and inside the human heart. We can pretend they aren’t there by shutting our eyes and counting to ten. We hear them thumping in the night, shifting their weight, and pressing against our very sanity. And then when the door finally opens, just as we expected, all of that evil pours out. And there we stand, like paper machete dolls stuck in the hot tar, with no hope or expectation of rescue.

When the pain comes, all we can really do is crumple.

I was at work last week and walking to the cafeteria when I ran into a co-worker. She told me that a friend of ours lost her husband suddenly and without warning. There were no tearful goodbyes, only the anticipation of long, agonizingly lonely nights. I immediately called my friend and heard the choking sobs stuck in her throat. The force of her pain was like a hurricane; strong enough to topple trees and tall buildings. And my words—no one’s words for that matter—could possibly be stalwart enough to calm the winds.

I have been wondering where God is and why he allows such suffering in the midst of a personally crippling depression. One would think after all the times I’ve asked this question that I would know the answer by now. But knowledge does not comfort an aching heart. When the mind or body hurts this bad, I find it nearly impossible to be reasonable. I just need the pain to stop. The sad truth is, sometimes the force of pain is strong enough to push even the stoutest of heart over. So here I am, whimpering on the floor.

But I never remain on the floor, no matter how comfortable it is. And as crazy as it sounds, yes, depression can become a terribly comfortable routine. But I refuse to stay here because to remain immobile is to resign ones will, and I am no resigner.

My questions are big and I have been taking them to the God who is stalwart enough to hear and answer. And with great patience and perseverance, I hear his voice whispering to me. I feel a little like Elijah. I have been bruised and battered by unkind words around me, hungry and weak. I have been doing my level best to be faithful, but the darkness still overwhelms me. I am reminded once again that it is not my strength, but His that sustains me.

Depression is a thief. It steals not only the good thoughts, but all rational thought as well. Sometimes my brain is not even coherent enough to understand the Word of truth that comforts me, and that has been a very dark and dank basement to suffer in. I wake in the morning grasping for hope and see it slip out of the window.

And then He reminds me I am not alone.

He reminds me that He knows exactly how I feel.

He reminds me that His love is bigger than my biggest sorrows.

He will not abandon me.

There are some reading this who think the very idea of God is ludicrous. There are those who laugh at my faith, who pity my “foolishness”, who shake their heads in admonition at this “silly” girl. But I am comforted by my creator in ways I cannot explain or define. People have not been my help, but He has. When the floods come, He is there. When the despair drowns, He gives air for my lungs. When the darkness seeps in, He is my light. When the songs dry up, He sings to me. And I am comforted.

Today if you are lost in the whirlwind, if your heart is heavy, if the ship of your dreams has sailed and you were not on it, don’t lose heart. He sees your helpless estate and longs to comfort you. So often we are too busy flailing about in the water, and our pain is so big we can’t stop thrashing long enough to be rescued. He is there. Wait for Him. If you cry out to Him, He will come. He has promised.

“For he will hide me in his shelter in the day of trouble;
he will conceal me under the cover of his tent;
he will lift me high upon a rock.” – Psalm 27:5

I am waiting and He is faithful.

Have you ever been really angry? I’m not talking about annoyed or frustrated—like when your car breaks down and it’s going to cost a lot of money to fix. I’m talking about seething anger, the kind that grips you by the gullet and squeezes. The anger that propels you toward the abyss of despair because there is no catch for your emotion.

I felt that kind of anger when I first read about Michelle Knight, Amanda Berry and Gina DeJesus. The knowledge of what had been done to them made me so angry I was ill. Their captor made the following claim, “I am not a monster, I did not prey on those women, I just acted on my sexual instincts because of my sexual addiction.” And while some might take comfort in the knowledge that he was caught, I got even angrier when I learned he had hung himself in his jail cell. His last act ensured his victims would not see justice done in this life.

I find that anger usually sprouts from the fertile soil of pain. Be it disappointment, injury or injustice, some form of pain is usually at the root of my emotive sensibilities.

Year ago I was livid over the state of my body. My weight was unbearable. For the most part I was able to numb out my daily reality with more and tastier food, but every so often I would see a commercial with a before and after picture of someone who had lost the weight, and it would trigger within me the deep well of anguish in my soul. Why did I have to be fat? Why were some people able to eat whatever they wanted and stay thin? I was humiliated by my weight, and so I went to a health food store and I bought a product called, Hydroxycut. I had heard its results touted on local radio as being the most sure fire way to get rid of excess fat. So I plucked down my hard earned money (the product was not cheap) and started popping pills. Within a few days I knew the product didn’t work. It only made me jittery and anxious. So I stopped taking it. And, even better, went into withdrawals.

I laid in bed nursing the worst headache I ever had and sobbed. Was there no hope for me? Then I looked at the ceiling in my bedroom and scowled. “You did this to me. You made me this way.” And I began to curse God. “I hate you,” I said. “I really hate you.” And then I ate some M&M’s to assuage the pain. But the pain didn’t go away because candy won’t heal heartache. Like alcohol won’t heal heartache. Like shopping won’t heal heartache. Like sex won’t heal heartache.

So there I was shaking my fist at a God I believed in but despised because my body was not as I wanted it to be. I had no understanding of how to control my appetites and felt a great injustice had been done to me in the forming of my cells. Now maybe you are reading this and have never experienced such a thing, but I can assure you, I was angry to the core of my being and—though I didn’t realize it at the time—I wanted justice.

But how can there be justice for the “sins” committed against one’s own body. At the time I didn’t think to consider that the things I was consuming were harming me. Sure I saw the cause and effect, but one must eat. The idea of eating salad all the time repulsed me. I knew only that I was hungry and in pain—both physically and emotionally—and I perceived God to be a tyrant. I wanted justice for God making me the way that I was and I knew I wasn’t going to get it. Can there be a more bitter state of being?

When I look back I have more clarity about the lies in place at that point in my life. I believed God was not good because I was fat (as if his goodness depended at all on my body). I believed my weight was in direct correlation to my worth. I felt I was worthless because society told me fat people have no value because they are ugly. Also, I could not see how enslaved I was to food. I put all of my focus and hope on food and how it would help me, but I did not see it as an idol. It comforted me, how could it be hurting me? The removal of it caused me great pain and so hunger was my enemy. This led to the belief of more lies, that it was impossible to lose weight and keep it off, that I was powerless over the food I put into my mouth, and that my situation was hopeless. It was not until someone spoke some of these lies out loud to me that I began to address them in turn and choose a different path for my life.

At the heart of every lie is a partial truth. So it was for Satan in the garden when he spoke the very first lie into existence, “But the serpent said to the woman, “You will not surely die. For God knows that when you eat of it your eyes will be opened, and you will be like God, knowing good and evil.” (Genesis 3:4-5) The lie caused Eve to question God’s goodness. She decided she knew better than he. So she picked and ate the fruit and brought about a most grievous agony—separation from the God she loved.

At the heart of my food addiction is the idea that food will satisfy the deepest longings of my soul—more than God, more than people, more than anything (the lie that I know better than God about what is good for me). Once I learned that was not true I found that my obesity was actually a gift. God used it to show me that He loves me so much that he would let me do things my way in order to learn that food could never make me happy. Once I learned to find satisfaction in Him rather than food, the lies lost their power over me. And while that process was very painful, it was worth every moment to fall into the loving arms of grace.

But I still long for justice. I long for justice for the lies that held me in their grip for so long and also for the lies that continue to be told to others in my previous predicament. Some of the lies are that image is more important than character or that people who are prettier(richer/more powerful/smarter) are more important than people of less means. Like the victim of a crime longs for justice from her adversary, I long for justice for the lies that continue to wound and scar me(and everyone else on the planet). In the same way, I long for justice for Michelle Knight, Amanda Berry and Gina DeJesus. Their captor believed those same types of lies and became a slave to his pleasures which led to the loss of their innocence. In his case, I very much want there to be a hell because if anyone belongs there it is him. But wasn’t he a victim too? Maybe you will even wonder how I can ask such a question, but Michelle asks it first. She said that she forgives him because she too wants to be forgiven for her mistakes. That is astounding to me considering all she went through. What enables her to give such grace to a man who tortured her?

Oscar Wilde wrote to his lover, Lord Alfred Douglas, from prison. In his epic letter, De Profundis, he said, “But while I see that there is nothing wrong in what one does, I see that there is something wrong in what one becomes. It is well to have learned that.” He connected the dots between the pursuit of pleasure and character in his novel, “The Picture of Doiran Gray”. Oscar Wilde was given every opportunity in life and was very successful. He pursued pleasure in every form he was able to consume and in his own words said, “Of course there are many things of which I was convicted that I had not done, but then there are many things of which I was convicted that I had done, and a still greater number of things in my life for which I was never indicted at all.”

When I consider my own pursuit of pleasure and how I was defrauded by lies, I grieve. Grief then gives way to anger. And where do I go with that anger? I demand justice. But who can provide it? And that is why I rejoice when I hear the words of Jesus because he promises to exact justice.

Matthew 25:31, & 41-46
“When the Son of Man comes in his glory, and all the angels with him, then he will sit on his glorious throne. Then he will say to those on his left, ‘Depart from me, you cursed, into the eternal fire prepared for the devil and his angels. For I was hungry and you gave me no food, I was thirsty and you gave me no drink, I was a stranger and you did not welcome me, naked and you did not clothe me, sick and in prison and you did not visit me.’ Then they also will answer, saying, ‘Lord, when did we see you hungry or thirsty or a stranger or naked or sick or in prison, and did not minister to you?’ Then he will answer them, saying, ‘Truly, I say to you, as you did not do it to one of the least of these, you did not do it to me.’ And these will go away into eternal punishment, but the righteous into eternal life.”

But what about justice for my own sin? Some might not consider gluttony sin but I see the misery it caused in my life. I want justice for the lies told to me—the lies I believed that caused me so much pain. Like the lies purported by the makers of Hydroxycut. Those lies were evil. But what of the lies I have told to others? Weren’t those lies evil too? I have told vicious, hate-filled lies that deeply wounded others. What about justice for them? In that case I cry out for mercy! For if every sin has its just reward—the hell that Jesus spoke of—certainly justice demands that I go there. And on what account can I claim a defense? That I didn’t know better? If God is real and he sees my heart, He knows that is a lie. What a despicable conundrum! If I want justice for all, I can’t exclude myself.

And this is why the gospel offers so much hope. God looked down on the misery and suffering of mankind and, because He is just, offered a solution to this problem. In fact, the only injustice seems to be that Jesus, who claimed to be God, took the sin of the world on his innocent back and then bore the punishment we deserved for it. Because he saw that our world is broken by lies and addiction. He saw bodies broken by obesity. He saw sexual slavery and every form of abuse being perpetrated on humanity. He saw that we could not save ourselves and had compassion on us. Because he loves us. Who can understand that kind of love?

I no longer look at my circumstances or the woundedness of this and shake my fist at God. Yes, I get still get angry and I still want justice, but I have absolute faith that he will exact it. If we are to believe all of the audacious claims that Jesus made, not the least of which is that there is a hell and there will be justice for all the wrongs done in this life, we have two choices. We can reject that he was God as he claimed to be or we can fall at his feet and worship him.

I don’t think I fully understood the grace of God until I experienced his kindnesses to me in the form of forgiveness. I no longer trust in my own understanding because I trust him enough to know that what I think is good for me and what he thinks is good for me are not necessarily the same thing. And at the end of the day, when I find myself beginning to be angry at lies and injustice, I remember this:

“The steadfast love of the Lord never ceases; his mercies never come to an end; they are new every morning; great is your faithfulness. “The Lord is my portion,” says my soul, “therefore I will hope in him.” The Lord is good to those who wait for him, to the soul who seeks him. It is good that one should wait quietly for the salvation of the Lord.” – Lamentations 3:22-26

“Sow a thought and you reap an action. Sow an act and reap a habit. Sow a habit and you reap a character; sow a character and you reap a destiny.” – Ralph Waldo Emerson

Human behavior fascinates me. Why we do the things we do is interesting fodder. It makes “people watching” a sport for all ages, and television programs like America’s Funniest Home Videos a ratings superstar. And while we may think our behavior is perfectly normal, rest assured someone else thinks we are just plain odd.

Take for instance my behavior at a recent lunch with a friend. I chose not to eat. The reason (for me) was simple, but I think my choice may have confounded my friend. I wrote previously about my decision to eat the fare at an all-you-can-eat Chinese buffet. I knew there would be repercussions and so I was trying to save all my “bad” calories for the week for that meal. So when I went to lunch with a friend the day before, I chose not to eat a hamburger and fries. I desperately wanted my children and my friend to enjoy their meal—so I ate an omelet before we left and enjoyed watching them eat burgers, fries and shakes. I had a great time because watching other people eat good food gives me joy. Unfortunately, my body simply cannot process certain (fried!) foods and I have come to terms with that. And since self-preservation is important, I cherish when friends and family accept that about me and do not pressure me. My friend was so cordial. She didn’t pester me to eat or give me a hard time (because she loves me), and I am grateful for her. But I know she thought I was odd. And that’s okay. Because I am odd. And proud of it.

This is one good example of building good habits. But those good habits are the fruit of making healthy choices over a long period of time. And making healthy choices after decades of unhealthy choices was really, really difficult in the beginning. I would estimate that 95% of the battle was in my mind (it still is). And that is why we must be intentional with our bodies. What we put into them matters. But to be intentional with our bodies we must be intentional with what we put into our minds.

I’ll be candid, I have not been watching television like I used to. I have made a decision to spend time with my children at the dinner table and foster conversations by reading excerpts from books, blogs and newspaper articles. I want to stimulate their brains. Let me tell you, this is really, really hard but I choose to persevere. So the other night I was tired after this exercise and joined my husband in watching the news. We were preparing for snowmageddon and wanted to see what the weatherman had to say. The first McDonald’s commercial was an annoyance. So when the second McDonald’s commercial within the span of 10 minutes really chaffed me. I asked my husband, “Are McDonald’s profits down or something? Are they losing money? Why the active solicitation?” He shrugged because he doesn’t care about those things. So I began scrolling through Twitter and–low and behold–I saw a McDonald’s ad on Twitter! And then–because I am odd–(see previous blog post) I began ranting and raving about the evils of all things McDonald’s. The average person might write me off as a kooky health nut, but they didn’t live in slavery to McDonald’s for years like I did. They didn’t crave and long for hamburgers, fries and coke. I hate McDonald’s. I wish they would go bankrupt–along with all other “fast food” restaurants. Why? Because they lied to me. They told me that junk food would satisfy me. They told me it would make me happy. And they stole years off my life by way of high calorie, high fat food that ruined my body. Now maybe you will disagree with me on this point. Maybe you will say I was a victim of my genes(as I used to say) or that I simply should have exercised more self-control. But I have learned the hard way that putting garbage into my body makes me sick, and I have chosen to no longer live that way because I saw what it did to me.

Yesterday I was driving to ALDI with my youngest beastlet. We drove by a McDonald’s restaurant. I said, “Yuck! I hate McDonald’s!”

He said, “I remember when you took me there once.”

And I said, “I took you there? Really?”

He said, “Yeah.”

I said, “I don’t remember that. I am so sorry. It will never happen again.”

He smiled at me with what I can only estimate as wistfulness and said, “The food was really tasty.”

And we both laughed and went went to ALDI and bought fruits and vegetables. Because that is what we eat now. We don’t eat garbage as much as I can help it because I refuse to live in slavery to the McDonald’s of the world.

I write all of this to piggy back off my previous post of the trend to make New Year’s Resolutions. I don’t like them because they remind me of all the years I failed at them. I failed at them because I was approaching them incorrectly. A New Year’s Resolution signifies to me a temporary decision that will eventually revert to old behavior. The resolutions I now make, I make on a daily basis. How do I do that? One decision at a time. I do it by living very intentionally. Which takes time and effort and a lot of thought and prayer. But it is possible, as I have proved by losing weight and keeping it off. But it didn’t come from joining a gym or going on a “diet”. It happened because I chose to pursue living a healthy lifestyle permanently.

It has been really, really cold outside which makes me very cranky. I like to walk outside and ride my bicycle and it’s hard to do that when it’s 6 degrees. Yesterday I pulled out my Cathe Friedrich Maximum Intensity Cardio dvd. It is the most challenging work-out video I own. It is 70 minutes long and in the middle of it–just when you think she can’t push you any harder–she does. I have never been able to keep up with her completely. Part of that is because I am not 0% body fat and my bulkier frame resists all the jumping and flailing about. But yesterday I did. Yesterday, when she started jumping around like a crazy squirrel on crack, I kept up. And not only did I keep up, I had fun. Now I freely admit I looked more like an aging kangaroo with a loose pouch, but that’s besides the point. Somewhere between the 30-35 minute mark when I was jumping up onto my step and puffing like a choo-choo train, I realized how awesome it was to jump and flail and not feel like I was going to die. Sure, it was challenging, but it was awesome-challenging. And I vaguely remembered that I used to feel that way about 5 minutes into a workout. And now I can persevere through 70 minutes. I don’t write that to brag. I only use it as an illustration for what someone can do when they decide to live purposefully.

Human behavior fascinates me. Not the least of which is my own. My journey is fraught with difficult choices, the tendency to slip into old habits, and a body that doesn’t always cooperate. But I am resolved to fight against the impulses that lead me to be a slave to poor choices. There was a time when I grieved the fact that I could not eat McDonald’s, or M&M’s, or burrito supreme’s. But once I learned how to enjoy eating healthy foods and make exercise an integral part of my life, I broke free from slavery to obesity. If you are reading this and you think you can’t do it, I promise you—you can. Never stop trying. Own the struggle. Fight for it. Reap your destiny.