Showing posts with label christian insight. Show all posts

[Absolute, The Fray]

I'm in awe of how consistently God's word to me is grace.  Last night my husband and I had a rough argument, and afterward I was hurt and frustrated and angry, basically dwelling in the land of sin, and I heard the clear call from God to run to Him in need and repentance, to allow Him the opportunity to show me how to walk in humility and love.

My response?

Quite literally these four tragic words:  " I don't WANT to."

And that was that.  I escaped into a two hour long episode of a TV show online and refused to deal with any of it.

This morning my Boaz took me out on an A.M. date to Starbucks where we talked about how sinful we were last night... and as Jesus led us we excavated some carefully buried sin in our marriage.  Jason gently explained my role in this sin, and I became sullen and angry and chose to turn inward in self-loathing and self-pity instead of looking upward to my God.

And then, the lies.

The lies came so suddenly, without warning.  It was a full-on attack.  With terrible clarity they assaulted me from every direction, every possible angle:

I am just a fat loser.
Jason should have married someone else.
Jason would be better off with someone else.  He deserves someone the opposite of me.
I should cheat on him so he'll have a reason to leave me.
No one would ever have an affair with me because I'm so fat.  I should just die instead.
Jason would be better off if I were dead.
I'm fat and ugly and every problem in our marriage is my fault.
Jason's sinful response is my fault.
I'm worthless.  Empty.  Meaningless.  
I will sit here like a statue and not tell Jason any of this.  
I'll pull away from him, cold and unfeeling and let this marriage die.
I will.  I'll make him want to run from me so I get what I deserve- broken loneliness.
I'm a worthless sinner and nothing will get better because nothing can.
I'm worthless and alone, as I deserve to be.

Those thoughts were so clear... it was as if they were on a grand Times Square marquee and I could read them as they scrolled by, accusing me, enslaving me.

Once, when I was nine, I was mocked at the local pool for not knowing how to swim.  Truth be told, my family was too poor to afford the lessons and my parents didn't really have the patience nor desire to teach me themselves.  But the pride of man, even in a stubborn elementary age girl, is a powerful thing and I declared that I could swim, so boldly that I hoped it would damn any audacity said mockers might have to even question my integrity.  It backfired, increasing their will to prove me foolish and wrong, to belittle me for even desiring acceptance from them.  When dared to jump off the diving board I said of course I would because I so yearned to be in their favor and was so horribly terrified of being seen for what I was- a lonely and abused little girl desperate for someone- anyone- to just love me.

After much fear and trepidation, walking out to what felt like imminent death at the end of six feet of springboard, I convinced myself that I'd float to the top and "swim" (doggy paddle was the extent of my talent, but certainly this would suffice, or so I told myself) to the ladder and all would be well.  So, I jumped.  Full on jumped as high and far as I could.

As suddenly as I jumped I was at the bottom of the pool, thrashing with everything I had...

Today I felt helpless, flailing under the crushing weight of an ocean of lies.  Both at age nine and today, in the Green Lake Starbucks at the age of 27 (9x3, and 9 is 3 squared and 27 is 3 cubed, interestingly enough) I found myself drowning.

I truly was today.

I was drowning.

I'd stood on the shore of temptation, thought it felt nice when the waters nibbled at my toes, and thus I had chosen to wade in... and found myself caught up in a riptide called The Enemy and it was pulling me under and out into the currents of the sea of lies, of which Satan is master.  Like a marionette with severed strings I felt him grasping for every one, yanking on the knee-string while screaming, "YOU ARE WORTHLESS", and gleefully heckling when my leg jerked out from under me, sending me sprawling to the floor and busting my face on the pavement in the process.  With the pull of the wrist-string he bellowed, "JASON IS BETTER OFF IF YOU ARE DEAD", and his evil joy was evident when my own fingers ominously drew an invisible line across my throat.   Satan reached for my bloodied heart string, and he jerked it with vigor, venom dripping from his voice as he howled, "YOU ARE WORTHLESS AND ALONE AND YOU DESERVE IT.  YOU EARNED IT." His wrath that I am in Christ, thus not completely under his control as master manipulator, was palpable.  I could feel the bitterly cold bile of Satan's rage literally gripping the back of my throat, and I was paralyzed and unable to move.

True to broken marionette form I had no choice but to receive, to feel, to accept.

When I was in the pool, I remember realizing that no amount of panic would ever compensate for the fact that I didn't know how to swim.  Desire to be above water, yearning to feel the sweetness of fresh air hit my burning lungs, will to live, would never get me above water.  I didn't have the option of getting out on my own.

I was going to drown.

So, with a tragic solemnity, I received my fate, felt sadness for the life I would never live and accepted that my foolish choice in an attempt to earn temporary acceptance, a cheapened form of love, would cost me my life.  I stopped fighting to live and simply sank to the bottom.  I looked up toward the top of the water, the sun's rays broken by the rippling waves created by a couple hundred kids enjoying the freedoms of Summer vacation, and thought, so clearly that I remember it to this day, "So this is what it's like to know I am going to die."

Today, I sat on the couch in our favorite secret upstairs nook at our local Starbucks, and embraced my certain fate- the crumbling of my marriage to one void of love, and I would end up abandoned, broken, worthless, and alone, and I deserved it because that's what I'm meant to know in life.  That's what I've earned.  The sea of lies raged and I simply allowed myself to quit trying to find victory in a fight I could never win, for lack of ability, and I began to sink.  Soberly, with an unnerving calm I sat, still as a statue save for intermittent breathing, staring blankly ahead as my husband called out to me to tell him what I was thinking, what was happening in my mind.  I could see his face above the water line, distorted by the storm, but I didn't know how to get to him, streams of silent tears chasing one another down my cheeks as I embraced the sea of lies and welcomed the certain death.

At the bottom of the pool, when I was nine, my calm reverie of impending death was shattered when the lifeguard on duty yanked me up and before I could process it I was gasping for air, my head above water as he swam me to the edge of the pool.  A fellow lifeguard on duty helped pull me up and the world was a blurred haze, one action incapable of discernment from the next, as they checked my vitals and made sure I was ok.  I really was- I was shaken up, fatigued, but otherwise quite all right.  I guess in my resignation to welcome death, in my moment of accepting that hope itself had died, I had forgotten about the lifeguards.  But they were there the whole time, looking for anyone in a time of need, ready to do their duty and rescue a drowning child, regardless of whether said child made a foolish decision and their time of dire need was of their own doing.

This morning I was done fighting.  I just gave up.  And then... I was so desperate for Jesus, fully aware of my depravity, the lies I have believed my entire life, and my need for His power to set me free.  With my entire heart I cried out to Him, "Jesus, save me!  I'm drowning in the lies."  He yanked me up, set my feet on the Rock of Truth, wrapped me in a warm robe of His acceptance and love, and said to me, repeatedly, these truths:

You are my beloved daughter.
I chose you before the beginning of time.
In your mother's womb I knit you together, knowing every day of your life, knowing you are one of My elect.
I have adopted you into My family.  You are an heir with Christ.
Everything that is Christ's- all good, all blessings, all righteousness- is yours, too, because I chose you.
I died not just for you- I died as you.  The penalty for your sin has been paid.
You are free in me.
Lies do not define you.  I DEFINE YOU.  You are mine.  To me you are of infinite and immeasurable worth.

... And You never left me no messages
    You never sent me no letters
    You got some kind of nerve
    Taking all I want.

    Lost and insecure
    You found me

    You found me

[You Found Me, The Fray]


[EDITORIAL: This is long, but it is by far the most personally powerful entry I have ever written.  I won't cheapen it by breaking it up into a part three- it's all here.  And, all things considered, for me it's not that long!  You know you love it, anyway!


Also, sorry about the weird spacing issues.  Sometimes blogger just does this, I don't know why, and no amount of deleting / adding extra spaces will make it right, so I have to fight my perfectionist tendencies and just let it be.  But I am letting you know that I'm not trying to annoy you with weird spacing of lines / paragraphs!]


I am declaring myself the #1 fan of this song.  You might notice a bit of overlap from yesterday's post , but that was intentional, and I will definitely explain the significance of these lyrics in this post, so rest assured on that front.


This is a continuation of said previous post, so I'm getting right to it.  The recent months have been really hard.  For the first time I've really questioned everything that matters and felt hopeless.  If I'm really being honest with myself I saw my church's Redemption Groups ministry as some sort of a last-ditch effort to try and figure this stuff out... I was sick of trying.  That's the truth.  It's ugly, but it's true.


The simple explanation for Redemption Groups, per the wording from the linked site above, is this:  

For those facing difficult and seldom-discussed struggles, like abuse, addiction, and trials of all sort, Redemption Groups offer a time for growing in knowledge of how God changes our lives by the Gospel.

I knew I needed that, though I saw it basically as a place to go and get the formula to apply to my life to stop being such a mess.  I know that I tend to seem like a person who has it together, but I feel like a constant mess.  A fat mess.  A critical and judgmental mess.  A lonely mess.  A non-trusting mess.  A lazy mess.  All of it and more... I just feel like there are people who are trusted and loved and treasured and blessed and I am a fat, critical, judgmental, non-trusting (and untrustworthy), lazy mess.  Undeserving of love and worth and blessings.  So I wanted to figure out how to quit being that way and, as I would have said then, let God change me.  



Then, I showed up, Bible in hand, ready to absorb everything and let God create the latest, greatest, life-altering formula that I could then ask Him to help me apply and get fixed.  Instead God completely blew my world apart.  I touched on it more in-depth in this entry , but I quickly realized that my understanding of Jesus Christ, the Gospel, Christianity, God, and life itself were barely shadows of the real thing.  Suddenly I had a glimpse of the fact that God is a loving God, and the entire world seemed new.  I was ready to worship that God and be different forever.


In fact, the next week I went to redemption groups feeling this way, in awe of the amazing new way I was learning to see God, certain that I finally had the magic key to life change, and even found myself sitting in group thinking that I should look into leadership for the next round because suddenly I felt like I got it, the Gospel, and could help others get it.


Then, through sharing something I thought was an example of God really working in my life, a few simple questions by my group leaders brought everything crashing down.  I'll not share the details of it, but the basic summary is this- while I was in awe of what I was learning, deep in my heart I had a completely wrong view of God.


See, my life story has always been told by me as the story of someone else who lived through a rough life but look at me, I'm strong and I overcame it and of course I am amazed that God has blessed me to be as strong as I am.  It was always about me, my strength, my not being a weak victim.  I literally have to force myself to admit that I have been victimized.  I am realizing that for all of my focus on being sexually and emotionally abused by men some of my deepest issues regarding how I "do" life are directly linked to my mom and her sin, how she treated me, how she deals with and does life.  I truly love my mother, and I think that just as the little girl tried to protect her mom by not telling her that I was being sexually abused I still try to protect her from her sin by not allowing myself to deal with the pain of how her sin affected me.  She doesn't know Jesus Christ so I feel like I just have to deal with it and not talk to her because she can't handle it.  I'm not saying I know where to go with that yet- maybe eventually God will lead me to talk to her.  The point, though, is that I'm living life completely focused on me and dealing with life based on sinful patterns learned by imitating someone who doesn't know or love Jesus.


One issue is that my mom detests anyone who lives with a "victim mentality" whether they have been legitimately abused or not.  I learned to be strong, to not be a victim, to overcome... and as I was abused again and again and again- sexually by multiple men, emotionally by my parents, physically by my parents (I hesitate to even admit that because they never "beat" me, but using physical force in anger to try and change your child's behavior, primarily for your own ease / convenience / reputation as a parent, is physical abuse and not Godly discipline), spiritually by multiple pastor's / people in spiritual authority... the abuse kept happening and I just "overcame".  I deemed myself strong enough to let it go and move on.


What I didn't realize is that isn't Biblical and it doesn't deal with the issues.  I responded sinfully- refusing to trust people.  Manipulating people to win their affection and admiration but constantly criticizing everyone and finding reasons to not trust them, keep them at arm's length so that when they hurt me I could soothe myself with having seen their sinful and idolatrous patterns all along.  I escaped into food and TV and internet.  I tried to fix myself so that I wouldn't have to see myself as one of those untrustworthy people because I was the only person I could rely on... and when I failed and gained literally hundreds (ok, two hundred) pounds in less than a decade I ignored it and thought of myself as still being about the same as I always was- overweight but still normal and not defined by it.  All the while I just kept trying to figure out how to fix myself, and while I know that Jesus Christ saved me when I was 16 1/2 I treated God like a genie who was supposed to fix all my problems and the Bible like an algebra book where I would insert said problems as simply and clear cut as using the quadratic equation to solve an algebraic function.  I relied on my intellect and emotions to guide me to the place where I could first figure God out and then desire Him enough to make Him actually want to fix me.


As I type that, and re-absorb the impact of all of those things, I am heartbroken over how messed up I am and have been.  See, when things didn't get better and I was abused again and I gained more weight and another friend seemed to no longer want to be close to me and my husband lost his job and every friend I know- literally, except 1 at the moment- was posting their joy on Facebook about getting pregnant and having babies and I struggled to understand why God seems to let me have dreams and always keep them too far away to ever actually realize and take away everything that I thought was His will for me... I lost hope.  And with a few simple questions based on me sharing something that I thought was a great example of how God was changing me it became clear:  I not only am still reeling and running from the effects of abuse and sin, but my view of God is this-


That He is the ultimate abuser.


He is unworthy of trust.


He is the one who doesn't protect me, doesn't heal me when He fails to protect me, and He doesn't care that I'm walking mortally wounded all these years.


I'm not fixed yet.  I don't have the inspirational message to tell you that I had a hard moment of realization but now I get it and I'm different now.  No.


I can tell you that I'm so amazed at God's character.  For one, He is love, perfect love, and He doesn't want me to fix myself and then come to Him.  He wants me to be honest, no matter how ugly it is, because only then is there room for Him to begin the healing.  God doesn't build truth on a lie- He literally can't because it goes against His very character.  He can- and does- reveal the lies, exposing them to the light, so that He then can destroy them and begin building truth.


I wrote an intense journal entry last week, long and painful and so honest that I was afraid for a moment that God might literally strike me dead.  I poured out my heart to Him- the anger, the bitterness, the anguish, the regret, the blame of God.  The week before that I got angry with Him when frustrated and hurt after a painful conversation with my husband, and God clearly said, "Run to me, beloved daughter." and I said, out loud, "Make me." and went to bed.  Not my finest moment.


But then came the journal entry, and then a few days after that I was broken and cried tears of sweet sorrow and joy when many painful and difficult circumstances including my sin, the sin of others, and just random events that weren't really related to sin at all, suddenly were redeemed by God and made beautiful and He blessed me and showed me tangibly that He loves me and His character is trustworthy.  It is good.  He is love, He is grace, and He is hope.  In Him there is no darkness at all.  I can admit that I am hurting and don't understand Him and that I am angry with Him and not only does He not strike me down to show me my place but He doesn't even define me by my sinful attitude.  He doesn't  have to bless me, to be patient and merciful and enduring- He could strike me dead or strip me of everything I value to make me desperate for Him, yet He is choosing to be tender and gracious with me.


Me, the woman who basically said, "F**k you." to God the very night He revealed that I have a completely wrong view of Him because my husband responded sinfully to something I told him.  Me, the woman who applies the Bible with head knowledge and seeks spiritual highs but I doesn't actually open up or trust Him because I see Him as the very opposite of who He is.  To call Mother Teresa a selfish, greedy, cruel, evil woman- and to truly believe her to have been so- is just a shadow of calling God an untrustworthy, capricious abuser.  Yet... He is revealing His character and helping me to realize what it means to know Him for who He is and yearn for more of Him as opposed to just trying to be fixed.


This is the root of my weight issues- while I'm happy for the women who have lost weight and feel like life is just this great "now", that's not enough for me.  I'm not so naive as to believe that losing weight will solve my issues, because a thin and fit person who hates God is no better off than a fat person who hates God.  This isn't an excuse to stay fat.  My life has been miserable viewing God as an abuser and losing weight will not fix that.  I can't fix myself, either.  Even the best program won't help me.  It's heart attitude, view of God, and while it will be a good thing to lose weight I will never lie and tell you that life is a "then" and "now" and the magic key was weight loss.  I'll reemphasize that while losing weight will definitely improve many aspects of my quality of life, primarily physical and some emotional, it won't fix me and I can't seem to fix myself enough to lose this weight on my own, anyway.  The only way to find joy and have a meaningful and truly good life is to see God for who He really is and live as a worshiper of Him- that's not to say there won't still be pain, heartache, sin, and difficulties.  There will.  But worshiping God for who He actually is and not the lies I have believed Him to be affects everything.  It all boils down to how I see Him.


That is why I love the song by The Fray so much- it's so raw and honest.  To feel like I stumbled across God sitting on a street corner,alone and smoking His last cigarette, not engaged in loving and caring for people, totally self-consumed and not caring about me, to feel like I have tried to find meaning in life, to do the right thing and be a good person and to feel like everything gets stripped away, to think I was pursuing Him and waiting for Him to reveal His will and show me how to live and then He just takes everything away for what feels like no reason... to be honest and ask why?  Where have you been?  Why did you wait?  You were just a little late but You're God and You know everything, right, so why couldn't You show up on time and save the day?  You have some kind of nerve, God, toying with me as I tried to find you and then you take everything I want...


And then there's the recognition that I was lying on the floor, broken and lost and completely insecure and God You found me even though I never really knew You.  I had You all wrong, I defined You by my terms and made everything about me and said everything was Your fault when You were never wrong, never anything other than perfect and loving and pursuing me as I defrauded Your name by claiming to know You while living life as defined by me and my expectations, thinking I was walking with You when in actuality I was flipping You my middle finger at every turn. And You didn't smite me- You loved me always and You chased me down, even as I was running from You, and even now You give me grace and don't hold it all against me- You give me more grace and shine truth and light into the darkest lies hidden "safely" within the deepest recesses of my heart.


So I don't have this all figured out.  And it's beautiful.


One final (quick) thought: more of my "normal people" blogs, people seeking to lose weight or be frugal or what have you, are turning into mediums for people to get and give free stuff and people are finding success and a way to make a living doing it.  The temptation is so in my face- you know, quit the Jesus talk and put a bit of effort into my writing and make it eloquent and profound and pursue that kind of success.  Don't scare away readers with God talk.  Or, even better (barf), intentionally write to the Christian crowd!  Be inspiring and show a simple 3 step process to how God can help you lose weight, and maybe somehow get an amazing book deal and be in Christian bookstores across the country!  (If you knew how I feel about Christian bookstores / radio then you would know how revolting that thought is... I'd much rather go the non-God route than that one, though much of the "Christian" world is just as godless as the secular one so I suppose the point is moot).


The desire is in part rooted in a desire to have more financial security, pay off debt, afford a house, earn a living in a way that doesn't put such strain on my health (truth: working as a nanny three days a week is almost more than my 360 pound body can bear.  Humbling or humiliating, depending on my attitude.).  But I know that is not God's purpose for this blog.  He has not allowed 12,000 people (well, hits) to read FoodeFight so I can sell out and try and make money.  Might He allow me to eventually make a living off of writing?  Maybe.  But I have to be guarded.


That's why I was quiet- Jesus Christ is becoming the lover of my soul, slowly but surely, and He's doing so much, but I catch myself sometimes seeing Him work in a big way and immediately thinking about how I'll word it in a blog post... so far I haven't fallen prey to being "changed spiritually" simply to write about it, but the danger is never far off and I need to be wise and careful.  So that explains the silence and why I won't get into every detail.  That said, I believe God has uniquely gifted me with the ability to be brutally honest, no matter how bad it makes me look, so that He can be glorified as He works in me and I won't lie- while I long to keep being changed and redeemed, I want you to be encouraged to be more honest and real about who / how you really are, to allow the Truth of Jesus Christ and His perfect love to penetrate your heart.


I'm too tired for a witty ending, but may you be encouraged to pursue Jesus, and may I as well.

... taking all I want
    
       Lost and insecure-
       You found me.  You found me.
       Lying on the floor- surrounded, surrounded.
       Why'd You have to wait- where were You, where were You?
       Just a little late...
    
       You found me.
    
[You Found Me, The Fray]

--Before you dive in, know that I did post a February weight / measurements update so don't miss it!--

To start: I cannot stop listening to this song.  I listen to it on repeat for long periods of time, and it's lovely.  It's so honest and raw in a way that I long to be.  More on that later.  These chosen lyrics are very significant, and that's why there are so many this time.  Overall, I just love The Fray and really want their new album !

I am writing this post in a place of in-between.  See, I live my life in this unhealthy pattern of desiring to no longer struggle with things so it tends to go like this: realize my sin.  Be upset that I am what I perceive to be a huge mess when everyone I consider to be my peers are so together.  Eventually have some sort of spiritual epiphany.  Get on a spiritual / emotional high and declare that I have changed and give, oh, maybe one week's worth of evidence to support that.  Eventually, slip back into old habits.  Excuse my sin, explain it away.  Then, after differing lengths of time, realize my sin and hit the reset button and start all over.

You know this is my pattern if you read my blog.  I think that it's the average weight-loss blogger's tale, regardless of whether the person is a Christian or not.  We all know of those few blogs with people who lost vast amounts of weight and look amazing.  They tend to speak of life in terms of before and after, and it's not just how they looked then vs. now.  "Then" they were tired all the time, in pain, grouchy and stressed, on and on, but now life is so great!  Sure, they have some days that are more tempting than others, but "now"... oh, now life is just amazing and they'll never go back.

So, we weight loss bloggers read those blogs and think that's the goal.  Figure out what the successful person did, create a formula, apply it to our life, immediately alter the formula to fit us, and then hope that with enough grit and determination we can somehow finally realize the "now".  I think that it's honestly because we're looking for heaven on earth- we're fat and miserable so we blame all of our problems on being fat and think that once we just lose this weight it will solve everything.

To be fair, weight loss does fix some of these things- I have no doubt that massive weight loss will help my back, my constant exhaustion, that I won't be so afraid to go places (today a big reason we didn't go to a Superbowl party is that I've never been to the house and my back has been really bothering me more and more lately, and I just didn't want to deal with the possibility of not having comfortable seating that I fit into.  Also, it was hosted by huge Steelers fans, and I didn't want to deal with tha t, either, but that's an aside!), I won't feel so uncomfortable in clothes, I'll be better able to have and raise babies, etc.  I'm not denying the very real changes that weight loss brings.

That said... I want those things.  I do.  I imagine how different life could be 200 pounds lighter, and when I'm on a walk, pushing the Brodster in his stroller, and my back is screaming and tears are smarting the corners of my eyes (note here that I have not cried due to physical pain in literally over a decade, so the back pain is very significant) I remind myself that it's worth it, that one day I will walk my own baby and I won't be carrying 200 pounds of excess weight and my body will be healthy and I'll have things that my heart yearns for, that this pain now is worth the joy of realizing lifelong dreams later.

So why don't I change?  Why do I still struggle?  What makes me so different from the ladies in blogs I read that have lost 100+ pounds?  And why, as one who knows Jesus Christ- the One who is the very power of life and death- am I unable to rely on Him to change me?  Why don't I love Him enough to desire Him, to obey Him, to live for Him and stop struggling like this?

It's frustrating and I've been so tired.  Not like it's 12:30 am and I'm sleepy, but the overwhelming sheer exhaustion of reaching that point where the will to go on is just... hanging on by the last few threads.  These last few months have been the first time where I have felt hopeless.  Thoughts of, "Is this even worth it?  Why not just eat the stupid food and kill myself with temporary happiness because the repetition of temporary can start to feel like something that lasts if I'm numb enough..." have occurred and lingered.

To be blunt, things have been so painful and difficult on so many fronts- physically, financially, relationally, spiritually- that I have had very clear thoughts of, "Is following Jesus even worth it?  I try and try and want Him and think I know Him but I'm empty and tired and this is just so much work... maybe I just quit trying and live life, just eat, drink, and be merry for tomorrow I die.  I won't even pretend.  I'll just intentionally forfeit."

Scary stuff.

And you know what?  This is long.  So I am going to leave you hanging.  For one, I think people don't really read my longer entries because they get overwhelmed and skim.  This is plenty long but I'll quit now.  And you can ponder what I've said.  I'll type the rest right now but I won't let it post until tomorrow (Tuesday).

I know I've been checked out for almost two weeks, so it's partially my fault, but I would like to hear from you.  What you're thinking, how what I'm saying affects you. Comment, e-mail, tell me on Facebook (if I know you in real life... if I don't sorry- I don't accept friend requests from people I don't actually know), whatever.  But I encourage interaction and I'll work on actually responding ;)

[Walk This Way, Aerosmith]

I am irritated at the moment.

DISCLAIMER:  I'm really sick.  Aches, chills, headache, nausea, all of it.  So maybe I'm a little delirious.

But here's the thing- I like to keep my feelers out for what's happening in culture.  You can learn a lot about what people value / desire / despise / live for by spending 10 minutes a day glancing over headlines / stories on a few choice websites.  My personal trifecta consists of CNN.com, People.com, and (not for the faint of heart) PerezHilton.com.

Recently this photo of one miss Jessica Simpson hit the media waves.  I'm pasting it below in the body of this post but you can also follow the link to it's location at People.com.


So, suddenly a flurry of "Jessica's Fat" rumbling hit the net, and then today this atrocity was in the NY Post ; I'm pasting the picture from where I saw it, on PerezHilton .


HORRIBLE.  Not funny, not even a little bit.  Of course, if you have nerves of steel you can click on the Perez site I linked to and read people's horrifying terrible comments.  I read like two and quit.  I would just get irritated and start thinking of the anonymous comment-leavers with the same animosity they leveled against Jessica.

Here's the thing- I'm not a Jessica Simpson fan.  I mean, I have no problem with her- I just am not super into her music (especially not now that it's country- ick!) and while I'm sure she has admirable qualities I've just never found her particularly intriguing.  To be fair, I'm not much of a starstruck kind of gal- celebrities are just people living their lives in front of a captivated (and frequently overly critical) world.  Also, I think that what matters is a person lives life in pursuit of Jesus Christ and everything else is an aside.

That said, I remember seeing a True Hollywood Story, or similar type show, about Jessica Simpson.  I remember very little about it, to be honest, but I do recall one important thing- she was a young teen when she made it big and people were ruthless in attacking her for her weight.  So she went diet and exercise crazy and got really skinny and everyone praised her constantly but she was miserable because it was an incredibly unhealthy way to live.

So look at her now- happy, in a what she says is the healthiest and best relationship of her life, doing music she loves (even if it is country... again, gross), and just living her life.  And suddenly she's a what, size 6?  maybe 8?, instead of a size 2 and people are drawing pictures of her to look as big as I am (which says a lot about how valuable I am to society... apparently intelligence, kindness, things like Teach For America, and giving generously to many different charitable organizations means nothing... good thing my worth is in Jesus and not the swaying and trite opinions of this world) and assuming that it's because she's living on McDonald's.  I guarantee you she's hitting the gym- hard- and trying to tell herself that everyone can suck it but she's hating herself and her agent has called to let her know that the record label hasn't done anything yet other than drop hints but if she's not super hot in exactly 30 days, presenting some big award in a slinky dress or doing a commercial in a bikini, then she might be dropped.  It sounds melodramatic, but that's the way Hollywood works, sadly.

I, personally, am disgusted.  For one, she doesn't even look fat.  Listen, if she suddenly weighed 250 pounds I'd be concerned for her health, since 3 months ago she was looking like she needed to eat about 15 meals in a row.  But, really, she's not even fat.  Even if she had gained 50 pounds instead of 15, who cares?  It is just so infuriating to me that people sit there and chant empty crap like "self-esteem" but then rip someone apart based solely on appearance and a small roll at the top of their pants.

So, I'm annoyed.  I know not to expect much more from people, because when your life is a constant search for worth and meaning you tend to compare yourself constantly to others and look for any reason you can to feel  better about the emptiness you can't seem to fill.  It still makes me sad, though, and I am reminded that Jessica Simpson is a real person with real feelings and anonymous internet commenting brings out the ugliest parts of people.  For her, and anyone comparing themselves to her and feeling like a right heifer, I pray that they'll meet the God who made them beautiful and loves them just as they are.

... His Law Is Love
    And His Gospel Is Peace

[O Holy Night]

I am so broken right now.  In such a good way, but broken nonetheless.

My last post , from two days ago, spoke a lot about what it means to actually live for Jesus.  He seems to think that it's a good idea to keep on pressing this issue into me, and I agree.

This week's sermon at church was AMAZING.  It was about what it means to be generous, to worship Jesus as number one and to recognize that all life is found in Him and that everything I have is from Him.  Generosity is not about numbers of dollars given or hours of service logged.  Generosity is about having a proper worship identity- Jesus is God, and He is love perfected and personified- and thus having a heart that serves based on this life-changing perspective.

My conviction came as Pastor Mark was speaking about giving, because last night I sat at the computer trying to manufacture a Christmas list.  My sweet husband set a budget that we each get to spend on one another for Christmas, so I was trying to think of everything I want that I can get within that budget.  The idea of blessing anyone else with that budget never crossed my mind.  It did hit me, however, that I was frustrated because I was struggling to think of things I actually wanted enough to put them on the list, so I gave up and figured I'd give it another go-round later.

Well, then today I watched the sermon online (I am battling off a nasty cold, which Brody has / gave me, and tried to go to church Sunday but was really dizzy and nauseated and Jas had to go without me) and I was so incredibly convicted.  Pastor Mark spoke of a woman (who just so happens to be his wife) who is so generous that whenever she sees someone with a need she goes and buys them what they need, and then when she sees them again she gives them those items.  Listen, I rarely even notice when someone has a need because I am never looking for one.

If I am being completely honest, the reason I am not looking for other people's needs is because I have a nasty, death-causing sin called a sense of entitlement.  I expect others to look for ways to love, serve, and give to me because I feel like I have had a rough life so I am owed something from everyone else.  What is truly heartbreaking is that God gave me the spiritual gift of discernment, meaning that I have a supernatural ability to gain insight into people's motives, basically the real story behind their actions / words.  I should also be sensitive to others' needs, but... I'm not.  I'm so, so self indulged and it's sickening.

I'm tired of making excuses.  Yes, I grew up poor.  Yes, I was abused.  But no one- no single person- owes me a damn thing!   Everything I have, everything I am, all of it, it's all from God.  It's not about how much God has given me in my life- rather, it's about living the abundant life with Christ.  As I reflect upon my life, I see how Jesus was always so faithful to me, to minister to me and love me even when I was sinned against in the most atrocious ways.  And understand- Jesus saved me.  Not that in that cheesy way, that way you see it in the movies.

No.

Jesus found me, a wretched wreck, trying desperately to get everyone- anyone- to love me.  I was self-righteous, thinking I deserved praise for being smart and funny and a leader and friendly.  It's all BS, and it's all empty.  I was miserable.  Jesus introduced Himself to me, and though I still have so many issues and so much sin to be convicted of and repent from, my life is totally changed.  Really, truly changed.

But... I still have so many idols.  There are so many things I worship and pour my heart and life into that are absolutely not Jesus.  I strive for financial security and get really angry and cornered and lash out when it's threatened.  I hide from pain by being cloaked in 220 extra pounds of fat.  I seek comfort and unconditional love in food.  I try to earn the praises and accolades of people to convince myself that I am a person worthy of love.

The truest tragedy of this all is that all of these things make me such.  A.  Miserable.  Wreck.

I am critical.  I am judgmental.  I am constantly irritated, certain that everyone else except me sucks.  I nitpick my husband, hacking him to pieces with my incessant need to be right.

And trust me- constantly trying to impress everyone is EXHAUSTING.

Then there's the whole sense of entitlement, excusing the way I am because I have suffered.  The greed.  The way I think the entire world revolves around me.  It just perpetuates all of the issues I described above.

So, today, cleaning the family's kitchen where I nanny, thinking about Jesus and generosity as I was wiping down the counter, it hit me-  there is such a better way.  I know the better way.  I claim to be in an intimate relationship with the better way, the only way.

When I surrender to Jesus, when I give Him the reigns, I am free.  I am truly happy.  It's not a chore.  It's not work.  It's love.  It's peace.  It's the antithesis of self-indulgence and it's incredible.

I called my husband, told him the only two things I really want for Christmas (a tripod for our digital camera because I want to get incredible pictures of Seattle at night and use them as framed art in our home, and the Anne of Green Gables boxed set because a) I love them and b) I want to read them to my children someday) and requested ways to serve others with the rest of my Christmas budget.

You know what?  I was so relieved afterward.  Not because I get to "feel good".  It's not about that.  Anyone could give money to someone and still have an effed up life, to be blunt.  There's an incredible peace, a sense of oneness, with Christ that no good feelings will ever match.

I'm still flawed, still a sinner.  But I don't have to accept it and stay this way.  I can stop being scared of losing control and trust that Christ's plans for me are good, and believe that He truly loves me.  It's ok.  It's good.

One thing- for anyone reading and thinking, "Ok, isn't this Foode Fight?  As in, a weight loss blog?  What does the sappy Jesus mumbo jumbo have to do with this chick getting less fat?" (or, you know, something a little nicer than that) please understand that my spiritual issues are why I am fat.  Unless I deal with them I'll either stay fat, get thin and then get fat again, or get thin but have other huge issues basically ruining my life.  So when I post these more intensely spiritually-themed posts, understand that they are an integral process of this food(e) fight, even if I am not specifically talking about what I ate today or what have you.

Anyway I am tired and emotionally drained.  Thanks for tracking, and to those commenting and e-mailing and loving me- thank you so much.  I truly pray that I will reflect Jesus Christ and be a humble encouragement.

PS In case you didn't notice it, I posted twice tonight and there is a second post below this one.  Check it out!

PPS  For those interested, check out Pastor Mark's sermon; it's really good!

... 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.

[Mr. Jones, Counting Crows]

Something has been heavy on my mind and heart.  In my last post I ended by writing about the fact that I simply can't imagine not being fat.  I have always been fat- never thin, never truly fit.  I definitely don't know what it would feel like to just feel normal.  That said, I don't pretend that I'll ever stop dealing with body image issues.

Even if I have a miraculous result from gastric bypass (I still write that and don't fully believe it will happen for me, getting GB I mean) and lose 230 pounds and rock the scales at 130 pounds (that sounds so impossible to me), a size 6 (my dream size), I would still have body issues.  The possibility of loose skin means I'd probably never have a firm stomach or thighs or arms, no matter how much fat I lose and muscle I tone.  And, honestly, even if I were somehow blessed with incredible results and had a firm body, I guarantee you I would still have issues with my body.  I don't like my teeth- even braces won't erase the scars of 27+ years of crazy snaggleteeth.

Besides, I'm a curvy woman.  I'll have hips and thighs no matter what.  My feet are too big.  My face is flat when you look at my profile.  My hands are HUGE.  No matter what my body looks like and no matter how many pounds I lose, or what procedures are done to improve my appearance, I'll always have body issues.  I've blamed my image issues on being fat (websites like these 2- number one , number two - that shred apart fat people solely for not living up to cultural standards of beauty don't help; I'll explain how I found those later in the post) and to be sure my being super morbidly obese hasn't helped me feel good about myself in life.

That said, the deal is the fact that Every.  Single.  Woman. I have ever known has image issues.  No female is totally 100% perfectly at peace with her body.  She can work on it, work on believing God that He created her and she's beautiful, she can do thousands of hours of Pilates and firm and tone but she'll wish that bit of cellulite on her thighs would just disappear, or she'll wish her nose didn't have that huge bump.  You know how you can tell how a woman really feels about her body?  See how she reacts when she feels it's being criticized by someone she loves and trusts... that's when buried insecurities surface.

Countless people who know me and / or read my blog have told me that my image issues certainly are severe due to my massive girth (ok, they don't use phrases like "massive girth"!) but they've also been really encouraged by my choice to be open and honest because, no matter their size, they have image issues as well.  Sadly, some people on the thinner side have struggled because others who do have issues with weight make said thin people feel guilty about not constantly fighting the scales.  Criticism and rejection are criticism and rejection no matter how nicely we try to package them.  Our insecurities rip our female friends to shreds when we guilt trip them for not seeming to have it as bad as we do.  It's honestly tragic, the way we hurt each other like this, especially women against women.

Listen, culture is culture.  We all know that billboard women aren't real, but we still compare ourselves to them.  How many women do you know with Gisele Bundchen's sexy Victoria's Secret body?  I mean, that perfectly proportioned, big and small in all the right places, with amazing curves yet toned and with killer legs?  Those women are just impossible.  And you know, what does it really get you to have that body?  We want that body, but does anyone really need a body like hers?  I know my standards aren't the cultural norm, but who needs to see women in bikinis frolicking around?  And do we really need to go to the beach and have a super sexy body so that everyone will look at us?  What does that do for anyone, anyway?

I'm so grateful for my pastor's most recent sermon series, especially this last Sunday's sermon.  The series is about the Song of Solomon, a book in the Bible basically describing a passionate relationship between a man and a wife who are surrendered to God.  What's beautiful is that this woman, whose name we don't know, doesn't fit the cultural standards of beauty.  She came from a poor family and thus worked outside and had dark skin, not "sexy" in a culture that treasures pale skin.  From Solomon's descriptions, we are led to believe that his sweet wife had a very large nose- again, not traditionally sexy.

What I find beautiful is that Solomon again and again builds up his wife, telling her how incredibly beautiful she is.  It doesn't matter that she wouldn't grace the cover of Vogue in today's world.  She is his standard of beauty, and his goal is not to make her over into Gisele Bundchen- instead, he is in awe of her beauty just as she is and he consistently tells her this, thus building up her confidence to just be herself, to be comfortable in her own skin.  We see him reminding her over and over that she's beautiful- he doesn't assume that telling her one time will do the trick.  That is so incredibly beautiful and truly what every woman wants and needs to hear.

As a caveat, you know what awesome thing happens as a result?  The Peasant Princess, as we have named her in the sermon series, is built up enough to be able to become visually available (read: comfortable being seen naked) to her husband.  This leads to not only incredible sex (yes! It's in the Bible!)  but deeper intimacy in their marriage in general.  What is truly beautiful to me is that I have seen this happen in my own life- my husband is incredible and always tells me how beautiful I am.  I am his standard of beauty, whatever I look like.  At a size 28 I am the most beautiful woman in the world to him; he doesn't even compare current me to the possible future me that could result from gastric bypass.  He reminds me that, though he's willing to work hard so we can afford to get braces for my teeth and we plan to do as much as possible to help me be comfortable with myself (clothes, make-up, professional hair treatment, whatever makes me feel beautiful), he still just loves me right now as I am.

This is incredible.  Despite the emotional pain from how I have been treated by others- and how I treat myself- I am completely comfortable in my very obese skin with my husband.  The way the world sees me and how I see myself not so much, but I know that Jason loves me even at 357 pounds.  I don't know why, or how he's able to not constantly compare me to the barrage of sexy, thin women culture inundates him with. Truly, it's Jesus.  It's grace.  I only know that I am safe- completely safe- in my husband's care and it means the world to me.  I wish every woman could know what this feels like.

Something I'm working on is being better about how I speak of other women and their bodies.  I know people who are a size 8 who are post-baby and struggle with their body because they're having an incredibly hard time getting back to the size 4 they were pre-baby.  Most of us who struggle with obesity condescendingly make remarks like, "I wish that were my problem."  Like I said earlier, I also know petite women who struggle with the burden of criticism from women who do struggle with their weight, always being told, essentially, "Well, you aren't fat so can't imagine how painful it is to have body image issues."  Um, HELLO, body image issues go FAR beyond being fat or thin.  I try to be real with my friends, to tell them they are beautiful, but not to base my approval rating of them (even inadvertently) on their current body shape.

Ok, one last thing- those websites I linked to earlier.  I promise I wasn't feeling self-deprecating and searching for mean hating-on-the-fatties sites.  I was reading another blog that links to mine and it's on Wordpress so if you hover over my blog's link this snap shot deal pops up- the good thing is it shows the first few lines of my most recent posts.  The bummer is that there are sponsored ads with words representing topics that some advertiser apparently thinks apply to my blog, and if you click on the words it brings up a page with other websites related to that topic.  So, one of the phrases said advertiser apparently thinks apply to Foode Fight showed up as "fat people".  Lovely.  But I clicked the link, saw those two sites, and was appalled.

There are people are so insecure and desperate to be loved that they go on anonymous sites to pour out vitriol aimed at fat people.  Specific fat people, all fatties in general, etc.  And then there was the other site, pictures of fat people posted so that less-fat people can mock them and feel a little better about themselves.  Honestly, it's so tragic.  I know not everyone shares my worldview, but I pray for the people who spend time on those websites because they are so, so desperate for redemption and love found only in Jesus.

On this note I need to wrap up.  You can look forward to a post later this week about some forthcoming HUGE changes to my diet... it's very simple.  My husband has a severe dermatological disorder (read: extremely painful rash) that was misdiagnosed as psoriasis for the last 8 years.  Today we found out that it's a rather extreme reaction to gluten.  Our entire menu has to completely change, and gluten free can be frugal but it's rough.  So, look forward to more on that.  And maybe some stuff between now and then.  For now, I am exhausted.  Hasta, chicos.

PS I have nothing against Gisele Bundchen.  I'm not ripping on her for having a sexy body.  It is tragic that she uses her body basically to make herself a lot of money and perpetuate the objectification of women in our culture as sex objects, but at the end of the day I would want her to meet Jesus and find true value and worth in life every bit as much as I would my own female friend or mother or some random "average" gal down the street.

My intent is not to hypocritically beat up on Ms. Bundchen for having a sexy body- my only point is that any of us buying into the idea that her body is the ideal for everyone else is wrong.  And for anyone with a slamming body like hers- well, that's awesome for that woman's husband but what good has it done for women or men to have culture try and dictate to us all what a standard of beauty is?  I firmly believe this issue tears marriages to shreds because men have porn addictions and/or they gaze (read: lust) after hot women in passing and their wives feel- this is a harsh word, but so true; I apologize to my G-readers in advance- shitty about themselves, which leads to either clinginess or retreat; both are manipulative and the husband in turn looks to other women sexually for fulfillment.  Even if he never "cheats" there is still a huge wedge in the marriage.

A much, much better way would be if men- hardwired to be very visual- were NOT constantly bombarded with half naked women everywhere they look.  Then they could do a better job at keeping their wife as their standard of beauty; in turn the wife's standard of beauty would be not in the latest Victoria's Secret campaign ads but in how her husband sees her, and she'd be able to believe that, for him, she is the most beautiful woman in the world and that's all that truly matters.  In Christ this is fully possible, it just sucks that even Jesus-loving men are hit so hard with images of Gisele in a barely-there bikini when they are watching football, images that their mind struggles to erase, and women battle incessantly with often vicious body image issues as a result of how culture has reduced them to their looks.  I know I'm on a soapbox, but it's tearing our marriages and families apart long before any vows are ever exchanged between two people.

Ok, I'm actually going to bed now.  'Night.