... but how do I feel this good sober?

[Sober, Pink]

So, the long awaited deep post... and prepare yo'self, because it will be long.  You know you love it ;)

As I pursue getting gastric bypass I know that the spiritual issues, the sin and the pain and the denial, must be dealt with.  I've said this before, but the surgery isn't a fix.  For one, I'm not hanging my hat on that post as a definitive weight loss method for myself until the docs roll me into a recovery room post-op.  Even if I have the surgery, some people don't lose as much weight as expected, and- I pray this isn't me- some have amazing results but then gain weight back, even with the metabolism changing procedures done with the surgery.

A worse option, and probably the most likely, is that I will simply replace my food addiction with another idol.  I'll find some other way to deal with my issues... the possibilities have no end, really, but it could be anything from gossip to this blog to exercise.  I know some people might think, "Well, hey, being addicted to exercise is better than killing yourself with food addiction!", but it's not.  Not really.

The issue is my heart- why do I do what I do?  What are my motives that spur me to action?  Directly intertwined with my heart is my worship identity.  My worship identity is, essentially, who I believe I am and what I believe gives me value (that's the identity part) and then how I seek acceptance and where I focus my time/talents/money/thoughts/etc based on that identity (that's the worship part).

To sum it all up, I worship, or put a lot of my energy into, things as a result of who I believe I am.  In turn, my motives, or heart, in all that I do are inextricably linked to what I worship based on where I find my significance.  Hopefully that's clear, because it's integral to all that I am about to spill forth.

A couple of weeks ago, actually I think three weeks ago exactly, when my husband and I were driving home from church, I really began to ruminate on these issues of heart and worship identity.  They are, really, the crux of relational Christian faith.  From my heart, please understand as you read this that I am not being preachy.  I am not trying to convert anyone.  I pray that somehow my flawed existence will be cloaked in humility from Jesus Christ and that it will speak to the longings that are in the souls of all who don't know Him, but I'm not gleefully wringing my hands and trying to estimate how many people I will proselytize with mere words on a webpage, and a blog at that.

With that said, I am going to get technical and it's going to be about my faith in Christ, but please don't just gloss over it- I'm going to get pretty personal, very raw and honest with where I am re: heart and worship identity, but the next few paragraphs are integral.  There are too many misconceptions about what Christianity is, and even if you are a Christian what I have to say to set up where I am going is crucial.  Don't skip it!

The fact is, much of what most of us think about the Christian faith- Christians included- really needs to be thrown out the window and started anew.  I alluded to some of this in my most recent post, but knowing Jesus isn't about asceticism (strict self-denial to feel spiritual, to "earn" God's favor) or hedonism (indulging in anything and everything simply because Christ forgives our sins so we're ok to do whatever we want); it's not about liturgy (following religious rituals and procedures); Christianity most certainly isn't about checklists and 12-step programs to holiness.  Really, Christianity isn't about us- humans, Christians- at all.  It's about surrendering our identity to Jesus Christ and seeking to be meek and humble.

Far too many Christians, myself the number one offender at the top of the list, get caught up in comparing ourselves with others, be they other Christians or non-Christians or what have you, so we can feel somehow more worthy of the grace that Jesus Christ offers free of charge, because He already paid the price.  The fact is, every single person ever born is a sinner, of whom I am the chief , and the only difference between a Christian and non-Christian is that a Christian has Jesus Christ's blood, His sinless blood shed on the crucifix, that allows them to be forgiven.

I love these verses, written by the apostle Paul:

12 I thank him who has given me strength, Christ Jesus our Lord, because he judged me faithful, appointing me to his service, 13 though formerly I was a blasphemer, persecutor, and insolent opponent. But I received mercy because I had acted ignorantly in unbelief, 14 and the grace of our Lord overflowed for me with the faith and love that are in Christ Jesus. 15 The saying is trustworthy and deserving of full acceptance, that Christ Jesus came into the world to save sinners, of whom I am the foremost. 16 But I received mercy for this reason, that in me, as the foremost, Jesus Christ might display his perfect patience as an example to those who were to believe in him for eternal life. 17 To the King of ages, immortal, invisible, the only God, be honor and glory forever and ever. [I Timothy 1:12-17]

So, then, Christianity isn't about following the rules.  It is about obedience, to be certain- when God saves a person, delivers them from their impending damnation to hell for their sin, He sets them free from the bondage and death sin brings.  That said, God is not a capricious God, perched like a nosy neighbor at the window sill of Heaven and cackling like a contrived middle-school girl when we screw up.  We are sinners, we're jacked up, and God is loving and patient.  He gives us grace, boundless and infinite, and He equips us with the Holy Spirit to better be able to turn away from the sin that hurts us, hurts others, and ultimately hurts Him.  

James 4 hits on this perfectly- in it James reminds his readers, including me (and now you), that selfishness (sin) creates contention and strife, but that submitting to God in humility brings life.  When it talks about cleansing hands and purifying hearts, the scriptures are meant for people who have relationships with Jesus; these are meant to exhort Christians to prayerfully examine themselves by reading what the word of God (the Bible) has to say, to compare themselves only to Jesus and then to humbly ask Him, through the Holy Spirit, to change them to be more like Jesus.  This is the only way to find true peace and genuine contentment in life and in relationships with other people.

It's not about being perfect, punishing one's self for how far they are from perfection, or running around and telling people all of the things wrong with them; rather, true Christianity is about loving Jesus so much that He increases, the Christian decreases, and the beauty and wonder of the gift Jesus gave, the restoration of sinful man to a relationship with a Holy God, is made evident in all aspects of the Christian's life.  This is gospel living- the good news, that Jesus conquered death and life doesn't have to be so empty and hopeless, affects every part of the life of the Christian, from how she thinks to what she says and how she spends her time and money, how she treats other people, who she allows to have the ability to speak into her life, etc.

I cannot stress enough that nowhere in the Bible will you find "Jesus' 12-Steps to a Meaningful and Spiritual Life" or "Go to Bed Feeling Accomplished and Meaningful: The Christian's Daily Checklist".  Reading my Bible or praying or going to church is meant to spur me on, to keep the gospel alive and thriving in me, to keep me close to Jesus but it's not rules or regulations I must follow if I want to click on "Christian" when a webpage asks me what my religion is.  To be fair, I don't have a religion.  Religion is what man, humanity, does to try and attain spirituality/god.  I have a relationship with the God who made Himself a man and died on a cross 2,000 years ago, and then introduced Himself to me when I was 16 1/2, mired in my miserable muck of sin, and for the last 10 1/2 years has been allowing me to know Him better each day as He changes who I am.

So, hopefully that wasn't all too heady for you.  It's so important to say, though, because what I am about to delve into, my issues with sin and addiction and the motives of my heart and where my worship identity can be found, are meaningless if you read the word "Christianity" and imagine a bunch of nutties in a room crying and falling on the floor as emotional music plays, or even if it conjures of up horrible images of the corporal punishment (read: spankings, whoopings, what have you) you received every Sunday after you fidgeted for two hours in the pew at your dying-nearly-dead church filled with elderly people who smelled more like mothballs than people filled with abundant life .

I'll start with my worship identity.  It's occurred to me in the weeks that I have been mulling over these issues that I really, really want people to love me.  I want to be so treasured, that girl (woman?  I suppose at some point 'girl' just doesn't apply to a 27 year old) people think of and smile, the one everyone wants to be close to and wishes they could be more like.  These things ebb and flow, but I want to be thought of as smart (this was especially true in high school, where put all of my eggs in the "Damn, Tami's smart!" basket and didn't let anyone forget it); talented (I have yet to truly just let go and worship at church... there's always, somewhere, the part of me that vacillates between wanting people to think I have a great voice and just trying to worship without caring what anyone thinks; even then my focus is still on trying not to think about how I sound); funny (many fatties get good at procuring laughs from people, and I am certainly in this category); pretty (but not sexy or beautiful... I'll hit on that later); a good writer, nice, a loving wife, a compassionate friend, on and on the list rambles.

"But Tami-", I am sure you are thinking, "Doesn't everyone just want to be loved?"  In a word, yes.  But not everyone spends most every waking moment trying to find their significance, their worth, in being well thought of by other people.  And I don't just want to be liked- I want to be everyone's favorite.  Some people have this same issue, but not everyone.  Longing to be loved, worthy, runs rampant through my mind and I see it completely attached to my motives.  I've written blog posts, careful to insert witty word wrangling techniques (my tongue is in my cheek!) because I know people will be impressed and maybe, just maybe, I'll bowl them over with my writing prowess and then they'll love me!  They'll really love me!  I mean, I don't actually think it out that far, but with the perspective given via hindsight I know this has happened more times than I could even count.

The problem with a worship identity not centered solely on Jesus Christ, who He says I am- purchased with His blood ,  forgiven , redeemed (made new, atoned), dead to my former self and my sin , alive only in Him - is that I sin against others when I feel threatened.  I'm easily jealous of those whom I perceive to be more loved by mutual friends.  I find ways to feel like I am a better person than that other blogger who has way more readers than me and gets countless compliments for her writing.  I criticize others constantly, because then I can feel better about me as I am, thus convincing myself that I am still a person others can love.  I have to be right, because who loves a person whose always wrong all of the time?  I secretly pick apart all of the flaws in anyone I perceive to be smarter than me, because even if they are smarter I am still a more wonderful person and more deserving of- you guessed it- love. I don't think I could ever count the hours of energy I have put into being a person others would want to love.

With all of these (horrible) habits, my motives are all jacked up, too.  Remember what I said earlier- worship is the effort put forth into who I believe I am, my identity.  My heart regards the motives behind my actions as directly linked to my worship identity.  Since my worship identity is based on being loved by others, and not who Jesus says I am, my motives are frequently impure.  I don't do things based out of love for Jesus, living out the gospel like I spoke of a few (dozen?) paragraphs ago.

Nope.  I rarely clean up around the home where I nanny because I know the parents are busy and stressed and could use an evening alone watching a sermon together, not disinfecting the kitchen, thus serving out of a heart of love for them because I am secure in the fact that Jesus loves me and I can live out love to serve others.  Instead, I clean because I hope they'll come home, be impressed with their-as-close-to-immaculate-as-I-can-get-them kitchen surfaces, and think, "Wow- that Tami!  Where did we ever find her?  She's the best and most worthy of love nanny in the entire world.  And we do- we love her.  We will never sin against her and never hurt her."

Again... I don't actually think it out, but... my motives are all wrong.  Maybe it seems like it shouldn't matter- either way I did my job and cleaned their kitchen.  The only problem with this is that motives matter to God, and I will one day stand before the judgment seat of Christ (that is heady theology, but if you are really curious just ask me and I'll explain that one) and I will be held accountable for my motives.  If my motives are not to honor and obey Jesus, from a heart freed of sinful motives because my worship identity is based on my value ala Christ's opinion of me, then my "works" (what I do purportedly to honor Christ, and all Christians are explicitly called to do good works, loving others with the love of Christ in action and deed with pure motives) are empty and dead.  Seriously- go read James 2 .  It's all there.

But if I stand before Christ and all of my works, no matter how impressive the accomplishments may look on paper, were done out of impure motives because I was focused on me and not Jesus... I will have to look Him in the eye, see the wrath for sin and hurt I caused Him and the good and free life I never really lived though it was right there for me, and I will suffer greatly because I will know I wasted my life.

Instead, I long to hear the words, "Well done, my good and faithful servant."  I want to simply love Jesus and to have no regrets when I finally- finally- get to look the premiere Love of my life in the eyes.

I want to be free.

I don't like living this way, insecure and constantly tripping all over myself because my worship identity is so effed up even though I know better.

This leads to the most intense part- why am I this way?  I mean, I know the truth, I am in an amazing church where I see people live out the gospel the way I long to, I am married to a man who loves Jesus and really does lead me well as the husband and spiritual leader of our home.  Along with the misplaced worship identity of longing to be loved is attached this self-destructive addiction to food.  Why do I long to be loved, going out of my way to win approval from humans, yet I have eaten myself into a body that completely distracts people from anything lovable there may be in me?

I don't have all of the answers, but I do know this- there is more to my history of sexual abuse than I think I have ever been able to admit.  Not because I was in denial, but because I am so tightly wound in my cocoon that admission of lingering effects wasn't even a possibility.  As I examined my life, it hit me- I eat and am fat to protect myself from unwanted (and deeply feared) male attention of the sexual nature, and then I overcompensate in other areas to try and be loved based on non-sexual attributes.

Ergo, I want to be pretty but not beautiful or sexy.  I want to be smart, funny, a great friend, a talented singer, an inspiring writer... anything but sexually desired.  I'm only ok with sexual desire from my husband- praise God for that, though I am nervous that really digging into these issues will show that my high-level sex drive is all sorts of screwed up stemming from abuse... that's just got to be what it is for now and I will deal with it as it unfolds.  Jesus Christ can, and does, redeem anything, so if I am messed up He can heal me.  Back to where I was headed...

A realization kind of punched me in the gut- I have an unnatural fear of being raped.  I frequently can't fall asleep because I am just certain that someone, a dark scary powerful man, is trying to break into our home to rape me.  This is especially scary because Jason leaves for work at 3am, and I sleep for 5 more hours, home alone, without him.  But then I think to myself, "Most any rapist like that would stake out the house beforehand, and said unsub [unknown subject... too much Criminal Minds!] would see how fat I am and be repulsed.  No rapist wants to waste an opportunity to rape a woman on the 350 pound lady...." and I feel better, safer somehow.

That's just it- I feel safe as a fat person.  Sure, before Jason I longed for love, and carried a flame for my two great crushes for half a decade each.  But it was acceptance that wasn't sexual... my sexual desires, though probably higher than the typical female, were never attached to the guys I had a crush on.  I never fantasized about sex with them; instead, I tried to imagine how it would feel to be unconditionally loved, accepted despite being so fat.  All the while, I packed on the pounds.  With Jason I felt so safe and secure and loved, despite my fatness, that I did open myself up to him sexually... but far too early, before marriage, and we have paid a price for it in our marriage.  We're still working those issues out.

What really nails this realization down is that, upon thinking back to when I really began to get fat as opposed to being a little chubby, I saw a clear connection between being sexually violated and putting on a LOT of weight.  I have a very swiss-cheese memory of my childhood, even through my teen years.  Psychiatrists will tell you it's protection from trauma, and I suppose that's true.  I have been sexually abused by 5 different men, all by the age of 15 but primarily from the ages of birth to about 9, and it's sad because right now I can only tick off 4 yet I know that when I was a teen I realized the number was 5 but I can't remember who the fifth person is.  The main perpetrator was my biological father, and I know he abused me literally hundreds of times, but I can only remember 4 specific incidents and even then the memories are like a quick flash of a few images and that's it.  My mind has simply dumped the memories, or has at least cut off access.

Back to my point- it's fuzzy as to when, but a fairly significant incident occurred between the ages of 13-15.  Tragically, it was the least grotesque of the times I was abused, but it was the most damaging.  Most of my abuse could never be shown in a movie were one to be made- there would only be suggestive images, akin to a TV show where the couple exchanges a furtive glance and then in the next scene you see them wake up, presumably nude, but covered by the sheets on a mussed up bed.  This incident is one that actually could be filmed, if the actress were over 18 and playing a younger teen.  Even so, it's the one that truly shattered my trust in men.

The thing is, I never told my mom about any of my abusers save for my biological father and that, honestly, was a miracle... it's a long story, but it can be summed up in me trying to protect her and feeling like I could handle whatever Chuck (that's his name) did to me, but too many people, mainly my mom, would fall apart if they knew what was happening.  That said, when I did speak up, I was assured again and again and again by everyone, from my mom to counselors to the lawyers and police (my fifth birthday was spent being interrogated by a police officer gathering my account of what happened to me) and social workers and other family members, that it was not my fault, that I was just a little girl who didn't know any better and that Chuck was a very sick and very bad man.  With the other abusers I just applied this same logic- I knew I didn't ask, want, nor even warrant any perverted sexual attention from them, and the problem was them and not me.  That said, that one incident, the last one, despite being the least offensive physically, wasn't so easily written off.

I was with a close friend of our family, a few years older, and I really trusted him.  He wasn't perfect, but he was almost like a father figure to me. I completely trusted him and longed to be loved in that pure way that fathers love daughters despite him not being my dad.  Somehow we ended up spooning on the couch, but it wasn't sexual (to me)- I felt so protected, so loved, so secure.  It was innocent.  I actually remember thinking, "So this is how it feels to be a daddy's girl, to have that pure relationship where he showers good affection on his daughter and makes her feel loved."  But then... then his hand was caressing my recently-and-rapidly-developing breast, encircling it again and again and again and I was so stiff, scared to anger him if I reacted but wanting to get away from the situation... so far away that it could be like it never happened.

Only, it did happen.  And I couldn't escape.  I never told my parents, the man remained close to our family, and nothing happened again but I never forgot and I escaped in a different way.  I got a job at a local sandwich/ ice cream / soup / espresso shop and I downed thousands of calories per shift.  I spent my money from my job buying fried foods from the supermarket deli, chips and cellophane wrapped corporate pastries from the gas station, and enough food for two adults from the fast food joints we hit when I traveled to when on the road with my high school sports teams (my tiny town didn't have any fast food places), and any extras I could con the lunch ladies out of when I went through the line receiving my free lunches (yup- I was poor).  When I look through pictures, I went from a little chubby in the seventh grade- I was a size 9- to a barely-able-to-squeeze-into-size-18-jeans senior when I graduated high school.  It may not seem like a huge deal, but after the couch incident I packed on 100 pounds before graduating high school, and I've put on another 150 since graduation.  Basically, all of my excess weight was put on after the man, whom I trusted, fondled me.

While I didn't do it consciously, I was trying to protect myself.  For the first time I felt like something was wrong with me that caused this man to find me sexually attractive, and on some subconscious level I was done with it.  I didn't want to be attractive anymore.  Food was comforting, for sure, and it was a double-edged sword to strike down my insecurities because I found the acceptance I sought from people, but never received, in food- it never rejected me, and in its own way it loved me unconditionally- all while putting on the weight that would, I subconsciously hoped, make me less attractive to men.

I have long thought I don't have issues with men, but I'm starting to realize that it's kind of a non-issue... or at least, I think it is.  I'm so fat that, in my mind, no man would be attracted to me so I don't consider the possibility of any unwanted physical attention.  But the possibility of actually losing weight, a LOT of weight, is becoming more and more real, and I have to deal with these issues before it happens.  I have to prepare myself for the long haul, because I didn't gain 250 pounds in a day and I won't lose the pounds, or the emotional / spiritual / mental issues in a day, either.

Lastly, and I have to admit that it's 3 am and I'm getting really tired so I may need to readdress this point later, I'm saddened to realize how numb I am.  I don't deal with sin issues, nor do I even see them half the time, because I am so numb, so non-feeling, so immovable emotionally regarding my past and current hurt.  I cloak myself in my fat, I wrap myself up in it, and I try to get some sort of significant existence out of this life by impressing other people, but I just sort of float around, like some sort of Christian-zombie.  I don't really trust God, and I can't fully believe I am who He says I am because, when I'm honest, I don't yet believe Him that He is who He says He is- compassionate, gracious, kind, slow to anger, a protector, a loving Father, a Father to the fatherless... it's a mess.  I'm a mess.

I have to- have to- be humbled and allow the Holy Spirit to soften my rebellious heart, to annihilate this sin of disbelief in me before I can ever resolve my issues of needing to protect myself by being fat, comforting myself with food, as opposed to believing God to be my Protector, My Shield, and to find solace in Him and His word.

The good news is that Jas and are hopefully going to be in something at our church called a Redemption Group, where highly trained Biblical leaders work with a group of people just as messed up as I am to learn to rely on God, to live out the Gospel, and to have life-giving and renewing faith in Christ that redefines who I am and who I've been.

This is getting choppier as I get more tired, so I'll end with this- it struck me a few minutes ago, as my fingers flew across the keyboard, how blessed I am to have this gift, the ability to write this blog.  I know that, more than anything, I'll look back at entries like this in a few years and praise Jesus Christ for how much He has changed me.  To be honest, having anyone else read these- and kudos to you if you've really read. Every. Single. Word. of this post- is kind of amazing.

It's akin to being struck by the utter absurdity of a word like "the", pondering its etymology and who decided that a t and an h and an e would be put together to form a word that made the sounds people spoke when saying the word, and how did language really evolve to include the creation of words like "the", anyway?, you know, deep thoughts like that... but it hit me how kind of incredible it is that, as I type, there's just this white space but when my fingers move across plastic keys connected to rubber connectors that eventually send electronic signals and by some miracle my thoughts fill the nothingness and take shape to fill the void and, sometimes, they turn into something beautiful, these words, these shapes that flow out of my fingers through my mind.

I suppose I'll end right there.  This post will likely spark off your ability to be involved in these deep things, honestly life-altering events, that I am muddling through.  I hope I will be humble, that Jesus Christ will shine through and I'll fade and finally realize the beauty in just loving and not trying so hard to be loved because I am so certain of the perfect love I already and have always had.  The love that nailed the God-Man Jesus Christ to a cross, the love that led Him to say the words, "Forgive them, for they know not what they do", the love that is honest and selfless and free and unapologetic and true.  Would that we could all know, really truly know, that love.