Destination Discipline

I went on a bike ride today. I was tired and I’m not certain it was what I really wanted to do. Sometimes I just don’t feel good and I know that exercise will help. If nothing else, it helps clears the cobwebs from my brain. But today my ride was more motivated by guilt.

The weather was perfect. Not too hot for an August afternoon. And while I did marvel at the beautiful cloud strewn sky as I pedaled out of the city and into the country, in the back of my mind I was paying penance for eating something I maybe shouldn’t have. And there is nothing more joyless than working out from guilt rather than sincere fun.

And maybe that is why as I was riding down a back country road I began to feel a little like Eddie Murphy in The Nutty Professor screaming, “Spandex!” after his magic potion for shrinking his body overnight worked. I felt awkward because spandex is not only tight, but because it wasn’t so long ago I was terrified to wear anything so revealing. Back in the day, I wore only baggy clothes because I felt I could hide my fat rolls in them. They made me feel safe and secure when losing weight was nothing more than a fantasy.

The fear of gaining the weight back has taken a back seat to other health concerns lately, but every so often it rears its ugly head. And while I know my waistline is not the most important byline, it is so easy to slip back into old habits. Especially because I still have “trigger” foods.

Today I attended a luncheon at my church, Riverside Church in Webster Groves, MO. It’s a wonderful place where nobody condemns anybody and people are just generally really nice. They faithfully loved me through a huge physical transformation and I just really feel safe there. But all of that aside, today I made a huge pan of blueberry cornbread and I ate 2 pieces. I suppose this isn’t a big deal to most folks but for me it’s scary. I don’t eat a lot of bread because generally, once I start consuming it, I struggle to stop. Even worse, the feeling that I had committed “carbohydrate sin” was so powerful that when I went to help my son get dessert I actually reached for the donuts while thinking, “While I’m here I may as well eat donuts too!” That’s an awful, old lie I used to believe and give in to many moons ago after I had eaten something I wasn’t supposed to. So as I was reaching for the donuts, I pulled my hand back and called the lie out for what it was. And then I helped my son get his dessert and walked away.

Except I still felt residual guilt for that goofy cornbread.

I was praying about this guilt and giving it back to the Lord when one of my favorite Andrew Peterson songs began to play. “Be Kind to Yourself” is a wonderful mantra for those moments we are punishing ourselves for transgressions we have committed. He sings, “When the voices in your mind are anything but kind, and you’d rather be anyone else… I love you just the way that you are.” And it just grounded me in the wonderful knowledge of the grace that I have received. I am loved just the way that I am. It was a wonderful reminder.

Today I feel victorious because I did not eat the donuts I reached for. I feel victorious because I ate a reasonable dinner(I did not overeat). Today I feel victorious because God once again reminded me that I need to stop punishing myself. Yes, there are consequences to overeating and eating foods that harm my body, but those things are completely separate from the love of my heavenly Father.

“For I am convinced that neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons, neither the present nor the future, nor any powers, neither height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord.” – Romans 8:38-39

Today I am adding to that list… “nor eating too much cornbread” and I am forgiving myself. And I am moving forward.

I went on a bike ride today and remembered that I am loved just the way that I am. If you are reading this and feeling condemned, this is just a gentle reminder that you are loved too.

And I am glad I went on that bike ride rather than sit at home and fester. Because I saw the most amazing field of sunflowers. And the sunflowers reminded me with their upturned faces that being happy is as much a choice as letting go of guilt.

“We’re designed to search for reason in the seemingly senseless events that torpedo our lives, and we want to make sense of them as soon as they happen.” Rachel Wilson

I have lately been walking through life in a haze of pain. Emotional pain. Physical pain. Relational pain. With each step I feel the weight of it, like a shoe that doesn’t fit quit right, it digs into my ankle and leaves a blister. And I have this idea that one day I will wake up and the pain will be gone, and then I will experience this blissful “happy” other people are so readily prone to. The problem is, I live in the real world and waiting for the “happy” is a little like waiting on a flight that keeps being delayed. I’m staring at the tarmac and watching for the big metal machine to coming rolling up to the gate but it never arrives, and frankly, I’m just miffed. Because to be quite honest, I’m sick of these stupid shoes.

My natural tendency is to avoid the pain at all costs. And so I develop little coping mechanisms to get me through the tedium. I eat too many brownies(when no one is looking of course). I watch television(because fictional drama is easier). And I scroll through Facebook, reading political commentary, and secretly judging my friends without analyzing my own flawed opinions. I feel like I’m gliding across a frozen pond in a beautiful pair of white ice skates(because pretty is important, right?). And I know I’m going to have to deal with the cold eventually, because my fingers are frost bitten and black, but right now it’s easier to just ignore the painful truth and stay numb. Because thawing is when the pain really begins.

But thawing is also when the healing begins. And whether I like it or not, pain and healing go hand-in-hand.

This past weekend our little family made a trip to the country with the idea that we would get away from the pain and stress of our relatively ordinary lives. We haven’t had time or money for a vacation and the grown-up responsibilities are stacked up like immovable blocks. Early in the week I begged my husband for a quick camping trip and he said yes. And I was so excited! Until I woke up ill on Saturday morning.

Instead of jumping out of bed and throwing all our gear into the car, I struggled to form cohesive sentences. I knew what needed to be done but I couldn’t make a simple decision. So I wore a path between the kitchen and the bathroom while my husband kept asking me, “Are we going or what?” My little guy was busy bouncing around the house in a frenzy of anticipation and excitement. And I wanted to be excited too, except my tummy hurt and my brain was foggy. And frankly, it just wasn’t fair.

But I could not bear to disappoint my little guy, and so I started putting things into bags and packing a cooler. I knew I’d forget something—I always do—but I found great satisfaction in pulling away from the house with all of the most important things in the car(namely the children AND the dog). My little guy was chattering like a monkey on speed and my husband was losing his temper, so I pulled out a story I had printed up from the internet earlier in the week and calmly read about a little town called Sligo(in SW Missouri), and one of the families who was fortunate enough to live there. And then we were caught up in the tale of Dwilla Lewis Dubouchet and what life in the late 1800’s was really like.

We pulled into the campsite fairly relaxed, but quickly lost our cool with all the tasks that needed to be accomplished in order to put warm food into our bellies. Cooking over a campfire is no small accomplishment, but it is one of the wonderful things that make camping so much darn fun.

If you can get the fire started that is.

And since it was clear that rain had recently doused the area, it took quite a few matches (and a half gallon of lighter fluid) to get the wood going. Meanwhile my teenager grumbled and groused about hornets and heat. And my little guy ran around in circles emitting high-pitched noises between unreasonable demands(I want to go to the river NOW!). So after our bellies were full(we had to eat with our fingers because I forgot the utensils) and we were completely soaked with sweat, I somehow convinced my exhausted husband to accompany us to the river where we could cool off and relax.

Except that my little guy is behaviorally challenged and would not follow instructions. He was being unsafe in the river and after about 45 minutes of patiently directing him to stop trying to drown, I gave up and we went back to our campsite. And the teenager was still grumbling about the heat and having to sleep in a tent. And the little guy was still buzzing around making unreasonable demands, but somehow I found a way to lie down in the back of the truck and stare up into the sky. And that is when I saw it.

The trees over the truck blocked much of the sky, but there in the leaves of the canopy I saw the shape of a cross and I remembered that for all my suffering, there is One who went before me and bore the worst of it. And by his stripes I am healed(Isaiah 53:5).

Life on planet earth is a succession of pain and sorrow. Our bodies are fragile and perishable. People wound us with their actions and words. We suffer mental and physical illness. We anguish and sob over traumas so recklessly inflicted upon our person. But this is not the end of our story. As Rachel Wilson so eloquently writes in the book she co-authored with her husband, Andrew, (The Life We Never Expected), “We rush to explain all the ways in which having special-needs children has, despite appearances, enhanced our lives. We strive daily to make sense of the senseless, so that the pain we’ve experienced will not be in vain. In other words, we write our own happy ending. But we are not the storyteller. We don’t have the power to resolve the twisted plot and bring triumph out of tragedy. Only God does. And his timing is often very different from ours.”

This morning I saw the sun rising through thick fog. It was more like a mirage than a sunrise. The small, pale, orb hovered there on the horizon like an opaque gem, shaking smoky sunbeams at the earth. I stopped my bike and took a picture, but I couldn’t quite capture the eerie light and dull throbbing ache that seemed to resonate through the clammy air around me. Maybe it was just my “hurty” heart and the realization that I may never know a pain-free life this side of Heaven, but in that moment I desperately longed to ask the Storyteller one simple question, “Why all this suffering?”
Today I am thawing. I am facing the frostbite. And it hurts. But it is not the end of the story. I like the way Rachel Wilson writes it, “The biblical drama ends with redemption, as the hero defeats the villain, gets the girl, saves the world, and lives happily ever after.”

If this was not the case, I would truly have a reason to despair. But as it stands, my suffering is temporary and therefore, I have only one real choice: Rejoice!

Sunday morning my family found respite in the Meramec River after about 2 hours of fitful sleep. The spring fed water gurgled in a beautiful blue array around us as we splashed and laughed and frolicked. We planned to spend most of the day there, but 30 minutes into our play, a frightful storm blew in. Amidst the thunder and lightning, we scrambled to the truck, raced back to our campsite, and loaded the last of our belongings as the first raindrops hit the windshield. And it felt rather anticlimactic to drive home against the backdrop of dark storm clouds and feisty wind after a full day of “not relaxing”. But as I sat next to my children, who nibbled on cold hamburgers and carrot sticks, I had to smile. Because even though we did not get the quiet, relaxing weekend we had hoped for, I know that one day I will. And when I think about what that looks like, what it will actually be like to walk on the shore of Heaven’s beautiful rivers with the Storyteller, knowing exactly and fully how the story ends, well, what are a few silly dark storm clouds and frostbitten fingers anyway?

I climbed aboard my bicycle this morning with sweat dripping down my back. To say that it’s hot in St. Louis would be an understatement(100 degrees +). My Facebook feed is filled with images of melting ice cream trucks and even a melted Snoopy. I would have been justified to stay at home in my cool house and relax but Sunday morning bike rides before church give me so much joy. I didn’t want to miss the blessing I receive by spending time with my Lord. For me, exercise is an act of worship. I suppose this is due in part to how difficult it was in the beginning of my journey and how the only way I could endure it was to listen to scripture and pray. I was recently standing at Lowe’s with a 28 pound bag of bird seed on my shoulder when I thought I would collapse from the weight of it. I literally cannot imaging walking around with an extra 140 pounds on my body today. Or maybe I could, but even thinking about it makes me ill.

Last night I read my friend Holly’s blog: 300 Pounds Down where she talks about her journey to keep off the excess weight that threatens her life. I was praying for her this morning because her journey is my own, and right now she could use a little help. (Can’t we all?) You see, every day I face the temptation to make food my god and to be honest, more often than I would like to admit, I fail. This struggle to maintain a healthy lifestyle in the face of so much temptation causes me to ponder why I find (physical)success where others do not. Is it because I am stronger? Smarter? More determined? Is it because I have better genes(I don’t think so!) or because I have stronger faith? Because the truth is, it really doesn’t feel that way. I have many friends who are strong Christians and they have not been able to lose the weight and keep it off. It seems like the ultimate snub from God to pray for help to lose weight and to see that prayer go unanswered.

I was pondering all of this early today as I rode my bike in the sweltering heat. I often feel guilty that I have (mostly) kept the weight off and want so much to help others not to lose heart. The truth is, every day I make a series of choices–some of which are difficult–others of which have become routine, but none of which would be possible without the word of God and its tremendous impact on my life.

I recently began reading “Tramp for the Lord” by Corrie Ten Boom. If you have not heard of her, please read her book, “The Hiding Place” where she details the work she and her family did to rescue Jews during the Nazi occupation of Holland. The Ten Boom family were betrayed by a neighbor and her father died in jail. But Corrie and her beloved sister Betsy were sent to the infamous Ravensbruck concentration camp where they were certain they would never emerge alive.

She writes,

“It was in the middle of the night when Betsie and I reached the processing barracks. And there, under the harsh ceiling lights, we saw a dismaying sight. As each woman reached the head of the line she had to strip off every scrap of clothes, throw them all onto a pile guarded by soldiers, and walk naked past the scrutiny of a dozen guards into the shower room. Coming out of the shower room she wore only a thin regulation prison dress and a pair of shoes.

Our Bible! How could we take it past so many watchful eyes?”

Upon entering the camp, Corrie’s biggest worry was that she would not have the precious word of her Lord, but it seems in 2016 that most Christians have one(if not ten) bibles laying around their homes, most of them with dust on them. But the Bible, to Corrie, was her most precious possession. This resonated very powerfully with me today. You see, I probably don’t state enough in this blog how important the Bible is to me, especially since I am–at my core–a rotten and wicked sinner saved only by the amazing grace of God.

If you are reading this and thinking, “Good grief! That Margaret sure is self-righteous. Who does she think she is?” Let me make this very clear, I think little to nothing of myself. If you knew me, you would know what I neurotic mess I really am. I only use this blog as a way to continue to make right decisions and to spur on others who are interested in learning and growing on their journey. Now that we have that straight, I want to be very candid. I would not be where I am today without Jesus and his great gift to me, his words.

In fact, early on, when I thought I hadn’t a chance of success, I made a decision to memorize his words because I believe they have great power. Today I believe this is the only reason I have succeeded in losing weight at all. Today I still rest on that decision and recite His words every time I struggle with the desire to eat something that would harm my body(sugar/french fries/McArthur’s cake). Memorizing scripture has not only given me a tremendous love for God’s word, but it has given me the strength to work out when I didn’t feel like, resist the foods that once defined me, and to learn to love people who are wholly unlovable. But more than any of that, it has enabled me to know Jesus in ways I never thought possible. And there is nothing–and I mean nothing–in this world more important to me than that.

It is so challenging(as a food addict) to face a world that offers me delightful food at every moment of the day and know that if I want to remain healthy, I must find the strength to resist those things that would harm me. Without the truth of God’s word shining in my heart, I might still believe that lie that I can’t live without it.

That is what I would tell Holly today….don’t give up. Don’t lose heart. Today’s failure is tomorrow’s victory. Corrie Ten Boom told the prisoners in Ravensbruck, “Jesus is victor!” And he still is. Whether we fail or succeed in resisting temptation, one day we won’t fight this horrible battle any longer because Jesus will win the war.

Today, if you are struggling with any kind of addiction, open your bible. Read God’s word. It is powerful. It is beautiful. And it is true. And it will help you succeed in the strength of the One who faced the cross and conquered sin once and for all.