Out of My League

Can I be honest with you for a sec? Ok, well naturally, I am quite the cynic. Seriously. The fact that the I can trust basic spiritual truths at all just screams of God's grace in my life. Otherwise, I'm severely skeptical of most everything. I mean, I was the kid who set traps for Santa so I could prove he wasn't real. Childlike faith wasn't really my forté even when I was one. So, when faith faces hardship, I'm definitely a little way out of my league. God is so gracious to me, though. He gently admonishes me and moves me towards a richer, deeper understanding of trust.

A few weeks ago, our close friends went to the BK's capital for vacation and to investigate one family member's on-going stomach issues. It was certainly no vacation, but they did find out a bit about the illness. We had heard some, but we didn't know the extent of the problem until we picked up our friends at the bus station and lightly asked about the trip. Their response dimmed the conversation with amazing speed: “softball-sized mass on the colon... packing up and going to the US as soon as possible... say our goodbyes...”

My heart grieved for my friends: for a family of seven uprooting with no warning, for the struggle of transitioning back to the US, starting school mid-year, and dealing with serious illness, for our teammate who had lost her best friend and would be even more alone when two-thirds of Team BK goes home in January.

So, we did the only thing we knew to do: we consistently prayed, I'll admit with uncertainty and doubt on my end. I know that God is powerful over even the most intense illnesses, but I have a hard time trusting that He will heal people. I don't like to assume and least of all on God. Yes, I wanted a miracle, but I'm not sure I have even a mustard seed of hope for it.

Fast forward to this family's appointment with doctors in the US. Remember that softball-sized mass they saw on my friend's colon on the last CT scan? That massive lump that caused severe pain and sent a family of seven packing right away? Yeah, it was gone. For real. GONE. Upon arriving to the US, all the tests show absolutely nothing. Grand freaking slam.

When I heard the news, I was brought to my knees. Should I really be so shocked? Isn't my life conviction based on the premise that God will miraculously change hearts? How hypocritical is it of me to doubt His power to change other organs? Very. My should my prayers be so small, so general? Doesn't a good Father want His children to ask Him for help instead of grappling to fix problems that are way out of their league? Yep.

So here I am today, yet again in awe of God's kindness and love. In spite of my weakest attempts and half-hearted prayers, He still chooses to make His extravagant love obvious. Sometimes, that love means letting us face suffering to make us strong. Sometimes, it means miraculously pulling us out of the pit. I can't say which way He will choose to act in any given situation, but I know that I can trust His goodness.

And He has said to me, “My grace is sufficient for you, for power is perfected in weakness,” Most gladly, therefore, I will rather boast about my weakness, so that the power of Christ may dwell in me.

Ask More Questions

This phrase has recently become Team BK's unofficial motto. It's even a lovely Jula proverb: [Mᴐgᴐ min ninigali ke, o ti fili. or The one who asks, never errs.] This reminder has already helped us manage many a culturally unclear situation to date, and I'm sure it will help in the rest of our interactions, as well. In the beginning of life here, I was afraid to be my naturally curious self and ask too many questions. I was afraid of being too intrusive. As a result, I found myself walking away from situations only to find out later that I had missed some crucially important details. (Exs: Oh, that was your husband. I should have done XYZ with the official papers I had before sending them. The lady visiting is describing her demonic possession, not just insomnia. etc)

Instead of asking, I answered my questions with what I knew of the world, my worldview, my culture. I filled in the blanks with assumption. However, the way I fill blanks is often completely different than the reality of life in Africa. In time, I've had to learn to ask more questions. If not, I only assume upon people's thoughts, words, and intentions. I assume I already understand it all, and in so doing, I isolate myself from true understanding.

The problem is, we often don't know the right questions to ask. Especially in cross-cultural settings, we have no schema for the information we need:

What do you mean when you say this is "medicine"?

Do I need to get this paper stamped a fourth time?

Should I expect this to break in two days?

Is this really a "fine" or a "bribe"?

Correspondingly, I may also assume I'm hearing the whole truth from my friends without having to ask questions. I think people will disclose completely, though that's rarely the case. Lately, I've found certain questions particularly enlightening about people I thought I knew well. Sometimes, when posed, the immediate reply is a quizzical face. Especially for women here, most seem as if they themselves have never considered the answer, nonetheless had to respond to such a question:

How do you feel about this situation?

What things do you aspire to do?

What are some solutions?

What do you think?

In time, I began to understand my friends better with each gradual question posed. I began to comprehend the inevitable and unending guilt-trip we'd face if we didn't visit a certain friend often enough. I began to understand other friends' coldness. I began to understand beggars or the aggressive merchants. As I saw loneliness, desperation, and other issues more clearly, my frustration was replaced with informed compassion. As strong and unaffected as most African women may seem, they are human. They are women. Sure, they can walk miles carrying tons on their heads and babies on their backs, but they can hurt deeply, even if they won't bring it up. They feel. They cry. Trust me; I've seen it.

As humbling as it may be to admit my complete ignorance, it's good for me to ask more questions. True, it can be despairing to know that there's little I can do to fix my neighbors' griefs, but I don't have to be overwhelmed. I'm comforted that God is in control even in this crazy, evil-laced world in which we live. He knows the questions to ask and the questions we don't ask. He knows the answer to these questions and the solutions to our issues, as well. Across every culture, humanity groans with questions, and our loving God Himself is the answer to them all.

Short Term Missions: To Go or Not to Go?

Let me go ahead and affirm "Go!" while adding a cautious, "but think it through, too." I'm always encouraging of people who want to help people internationally and share God's love practically, but there are some very interesting issues that can present themselves in short-term mission trips. When thinking through these matters, it's easy for me to get either highly cynical or discouraged and apathetic, neither of which are helpful. 

In my recent internet wanderings, I ran across two excellent articles which I think present a very healthy balance of warning and encouragement to do aid correctly. If you're interested in international aid, I would highly recommend reading BOTH of these articles so as to get a clear picture of the problems as well as positive solutions. Happy reading!

Why You Should Consider Cancelling Your Short-Term Mission Trips

Toward Better Short-Term Missions

In the end, I love the conclusion given in the second article, and it's where I have also had to land in this whole discussion. Despite everything, God is big. Of course, I will do my very best so as not to harm those I'm trying to help, but He is still working even in the wake of my messes. So, let's love as well as we can and pray for it to be God's work, not ours.

"But the beauty of gospel ministry is that God is not handcuffed by our foolishness. He is still accomplishing his purposes amongst the nations. For any harm we may cause, God is using others to bring great advances for the gospel.

So become a thoughtful global Christian. Think critically about cross-cultural engagement. Be convicted if you are harming the church in other cultures, but know that in the end, God is still on his throne, and his work will be accomplished."

Word.

I have a confession:

I am a language nerd. I mean, like a true nerd. Words are fun to me. Case in point, in one of my particularly dull high school classes several friends and I spent the time searching a dictionary for obscure vocabulary words to work into conversation each day. Feel free to judge. It did annoy our not-so-nerdy friends, but hey, our vocab became quite prodigious.

That being said, when I saw the book title The Power of Words and the Wonder of God, it struck several chords in my nerdy little heart. This ebook is a really good collaborative commentary on God, man, and the power of words.

While I read this book and subsequently lived life, I began to think and learn more about God, about Jesus as the incarnate Word of God, and about the power of our words. Don't hear what I'm not saying. I'm not saying there's some mystical power in the spoken word of man. Man, unlike God, cannot just call things into being with a few “Let there be”s. I've heard people claim that if you can say it, it will be. That is not what I'm saying.

Words do, however, effect us very deeply. I have seen that in the Bible (Prov 10:19-21) (James 3:1-12) as well as everyday life. In a way, we can create and destroy with our words. I'm sure there's something that someone has said to you, possibly unknowingly, that changed the way you view yourself or your surroundings. For better or for worse, those words likely changed your actions. 

That's powerful.

Our words can also unite or divide. I've seen this firsthand in multi-lingual West Africa. If someone speaks your language, you're automatically friends. Especially if your first language is the minority, there's an undeniable bond with anyone to whom you can talk without having to strain your brain. I have admittedly creeped on people in restaurants and open markets because I heard them speaking my mother tongue. On the contrary, when someone switches languages, there's an automatic barrier. There's almost a bit of humanity lost when someone is going off in words I don't understand. For one conversation, a friend may become a stranger until they intentionally talk for me to understand.

One of the most striking things I've learned about words recently, though, is about the weight of our words as followers of Jesus. Follow me as I take a walk through history and Psalm 19: Creation speaks beautifully of who God is (Ps 19:1-6). In the most remote corner of the world, people hear and strive to understand what creation says about God. That's why we have religions. We need more than just a general sense that we're not alone on this great big ball of dirt, so we fill in blanks. Unfortunately, most people often end up with the wrong conclusions about God. We need clarity, someone speaking our language. So, God inspired people to write His words and sent prophets. God's law teaches us right and wrong. It is a beautiful clarification of what we should be. It brings joy to those who do right (Ps 19:7-11). But do we really often do right? Unfortunately, no. If you live long enough, you see that even “nice” people can be pretty awful.

Here humanity was, despairing at what we could know of ourselves and our distant god. Surely, we can never please a perfect creator. In the same way, the psalmist, David, recognizes the tendency towards unknown evil in his own heart and appeals for God's mercy (11-12). He recognizes his need for God's help to keep from being ruled by evil (13). David concludes with a request: “Let the words of my mouth and the meditation of my heart be acceptable in Your sight, O Lord, my rock and Redeemer” (14).

My point is this: what better words are there to say than the message that all humanity is trying to understand? Creation doesn't speak our neighbors' dialect and the Law is only the beginning of the story. God Himself came to us, wearing our skin and speaking our language. Shouldn't we do the same? Shouldn't we carry on the message of hope Jesus came to give? We've been given a words to share that speak to the hearts of everyone (2 Corinthians 5:18-20). Let's do that.

“So the Word became human and made his home among us. He was full of unfailing love and faithfulness. And we have seen his glory, the glory of the Father’s one and only Son...No one has ever seen God. But the unique One, who is himself God, is near to the Father’s heart. He has revealed God to us.”
  -(John 1:14,18)

New Dog, Old Tricks

Sometimes, I just get really sick of average. Yeah, I know. I live in Africa. Not too much here is what I could consider “average.” Still, every so often, I get this urge to find or to make something new. Call it a creative soul. Call it an overactive mind. Call it what you want, but sometimes I just need something original, something novel and beautiful.

Maybe, I'm not alone. I see traces of it all over social media. Even if we realize that people probably don't care about half of the things we say, we still blog, tweet, and instagram by impulse. We just want to be heard, to be “liked,” to say, to show and to hear something worthwhile. We want to belong while simultaneously standing out for our originality. We want to make people think twice about their everyday and look past their own eyes for a second. Or maybe, that's just me.

Every now and then, we get a glimpse of something noteworthy. We paint that lovely sunset. We blog that rich thought. We write down those lyrics and put it to music. We try so hard to make something new while simultaneously trying to avoid being deemed weird. << Lord forbid we become weird! I'm sure God never intended any such differentiation. >> (For those of you who don't get sarcasm, I have created a << sarcasm >> indicator for your clarity.)

Still, our most novel things are, at best, an echo of something else. That painting was inspired by something. That fresh new outfit is vintage. That new movie is a rewritten book. Our conversations are the same, just in a different context.

At the end of the day, we're not so original after all. Even this very blog, it's been said. It was written ages ago. It's why I love the book of Ecclesiastes so much. It confronts our seemingly endless cycles while applauding mankind's everyday efforts:

The eye is not satisfied with seeing, nor is the ear filled with hearing. That which has been is that which will be, and that which has been done is that which will be done. So there is nothing new under the sun. Is there anything of which one might say, 'See this, it is new'? Already it has existed for ages which were before us. There is no remembrance of earlier things; And also of the later things which will occur, there will be for them no remembrance among those who will come later still. (Ecc 1:8-11)

It sounds a little depressing, but it's where my mind goes sometimes. What is our time worth? Even if I was talented, could I ever really create? At my best, will I only copy?

Probably.

Maybe, the better question is: who am I copying? Am I copying a copy of a sunset or am I looking straight at its glory for myself? If I must copy, I've decided to go the Original, God Himself. I'll take an example from the Preacher of Ecclesiates, pondering, writing out truth, and fearing God.
“In addition to being a wise man, the Preacher also taught the people knowledge; and he pondered, searched out and arranged many proverbs. The Preacher sought to find delightful words and to write words of truth correctly...The conclusion, when all has been heard is: fear God and keep His commandments, because this applies to every person.” (Ecc 12:10,13)

He'll Come Like the Rain

Raaaaaaain! 

Many aspects of life in BK make the culture of Bible times so much more relevant. On any ordinary day, I may see ladies drawing water from a well, separating grain from the chaff, riding donkeys, plowing fields, and even sacrificing to idols. One of the things that really hits home while reading, especially this time of year, is the importance of water and of rain. 

It can be depressingly hot and dry this time of year, especially when there's no hope of rain for months. Since living here, I have begun to understand the real dependence on the Father to provide rain, both in the physical and spiritual sense. The references in the Word to rain, its effects, and our dependence become so much more clear and beautiful as I read: 

-That same day the Lord sent thunder and rain. So all the people stood in awe (1 Sam 12:18)
-They waited for me as for showers and drank in my words as the spring rain (Job 29:23)
-Do any of the worthless idols of the nations bring rain? Do the skies themselves send down showers? No, it is you, Lord our God. (Jer. 14:22)
-Let us press on to acknowledge Him... He will come to us like the winter rains, like the spring rains that water the earth.” (Hos 6:3)
-But I tell you, love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you, that you may be children of your Father in heaven. He. . . sends rain on the righteous and the unrighteous. (Matt 5:44-45)
-Yet he has not left himself without testimony: He has shown kindness by giving you rain from heaven. . .and fills your hearts with joy. (Acts 14:17)
-Be patient, then, brothers and sisters, until the Lord’s coming. See how the farmer waits for the land to yield its valuable crop, patiently waiting for the autumn and spring rains. (James 5:7)

So, as the skies finally cloud up and rain begins to fall, I soak it in and am reminded of just how helpless I am out here. I can't change people's hearts. I can't make it rain. As we pray, though, God will send the rain to fall on our crazy-dry land. It's amazing how quickly things change with a little bit of rain! He will water the seeds. He will create streams of life-giving water in us. As He comes like the rain, He will fill our hearts with joy. 

Let's Think About It

"Lean with it, rock with it. 

When we gonna stop with it?

Lyrics that mean nothing, we were gifted with thought. 

Is it time to move our feet to an introspective beat?

It ain't the speakers that bump hearts

It's our hearts that make the beat."

My sentiments, exactly, Twenty | One | Pilots. 

As I said in the last blog, music is important to me. I love how good music can be so complex. It's not just something that makes you want to dance around a room but also real poetry that makes you think. Good music, in contrast to things like Rebecca Black's Friday, is thought-provoking, moving us more deeply than just physically.

When my friends came to Africa for a visit, one of my top requests (along with coffee and cereal) was good music. It was a great request, too, because my friends have impeccable taste. They introduced me to what quickly has become one of my favorite bands: Twenty | One | Pilots.

(check them out here, you know you want to....)

Seriously. They're awesome, but with darker tones to their songs, it's not a band that would likely be on typical Christian radio stations. Still, their lyrics openly talk of many Christian themes: a loving God, the hopeless state of man, need for salvation from a higher being, the battle of the flesh against faith, the battle in every person's mind, restoration of broken people, and so on. For me, it's been a worshipful few days constantly hitting the "repeat" button on my iPod.

One of the things I appreciate about their music is the plea to make thinkers of us. They draw lyrics from a lot of dark places of over-thinking, depression, and fear, but they also speak into these dark places. They sing a certain hope to broken people. They encourage people to seek truth, even in the darkness.
I appreciate that.

As good music should, it made me think. What message is our Christian music sending? What message are we, as the Church, sending? Is it bubblegum versions of a happy wonderland of life in Jesus? Is it, "trust Jesus and never face darkness again"? Is that really the whole truth? Are we skipping ahead in God's epic?

We're all guilty of it, myself included. It's easy to hang things on a "happily ever after," because in reality, there is one. But, are we really at the end of the story, the "happily ever after," or are we just at the rising action, where the story gets interesting? Sometimes, I get the feeling our gospel leaves out the needed complications of the story. Sometimes, our message seems to lead members of our own fellowship to hide the very struggle that makes the Good News great: salvation for broken people in a fallen world.

Let's think about it. Let's be brave with our music and our lives. Let's not run from the dragons of the world or help them to hide. They like the shadows. They're just going create havoc if we don't acknowledge them. Let's face them, instead, armed with Christ as our Excalibur. Let's tell the true and truly good story. Jesus isn't just salvation for once and done. He's salvation for the everyday. He's the Light of the World, able to illuminate the darkest of places.

Sing the Gospel

One of my favorite things has always been to sing/play/listen to good music. For as long as I can remember, it's been a key activity for the McDonald Clan. My brother and I grew from jumping around the living room to 80's hits to singing and playing our own duets. My mom would frequently conduct orchestras while driving (dangerous, I know) or burst into song and dance while in the kitchen (which proved to be equally dangerous). Every night, I would be tucked in with a ballad from at least one parent. We were never without music in our house.

So, it makes sense that nothing makes me feel at home like a good song. Even being a continent away from my family, music is still important to me. If the lyrics are rich, it resonates that much more. I enjoy frequently finding a new song, learning to play it (albeit poorly), and sharing it with my roommate, who graciously listens. 

A few months ago, I was introduced to a lovely song called "Sing the Gospel," and I recently stumbled back upon it. Now, it won't leave my head, and I'm not sure I want it to. I recorded it just for kicks one particularly slow day. If you'd like to graciously listen, feel free. If not, my feelings aren't hurt, I assure you. 

Justice Served Fresh

I've always had a soft spot for the marginalized and the oppressed. Since having moved to Africa, injustice hits me that much harder, because I encounter it so frequently. Almost daily, I see a number of things that just make me want to scream:Boys are "taken in" by schools and sent out to beg. If they accept my bread for themselves instead of money for the mosques, they may be beaten. A man takes another wife without informing his first (or second or third) wife. These women are beaten for being less-than-obedient. An orphaned family member is treated like a servant because she has nowhere else to go. Government officials fill their pockets with aid money. A woman selling water gets mobbed because a generous person bought water "for everyone" without thinking that there wasn't actually enough for everyone. 

And these are just the few stories I hear.The list goes on, but it's not limited to the third world. We shudder from stories we hear of the West: a man who shoots school children, people trampled in shopping malls, murder "justified" for one reason or another, etc. Does it ever stop? Living here (and really anywhere if you look deep enough) can quickly make you one of two extremes: furious or apathetic. Admittedly, I've been both.

All the hurt drove me to the Word of God for answers. This year, I'm reading through the Bible and focusing on God's perspective on the matter of right, wrong, and justice. I mean, if it breaks my heart, how can God stand it? He hears the hidden tears of victims every day. I just hear emotionlessly recounted stories. Their blood cries out to Him directly. I often have no clue. 

From what I've seen, it all boils down to love. I should've seen that coming. After all, God is love, right?. But to dig a bit deeper, I've seen true depth in His justice. No one can ever claim that God is apathetic to right and wrong. He hears, He cares deeply, and He acts with a vengeance against wrong. He establishes laws to protect the poor, the slaves, the unloved, and even the land. Truly, injustice in the Old Testament seems to merit death, exile, or intense punishment. As bystanders, most of us would heartily agree. You can't just let people get away with these things!

So, what about today? Why hasn't God just zapped the modern slave traders, the oppressors, the murderers? I think the better question is this: do we really want Him to? Are you really just a bystander? Have you ever taken advantage of someone? said an unkind word? lusted after someone? let your selfishness hurt someone? hated someone? Have you ever been too proud to even apologize for these things?

Then, the question is this: why hasn't God zapped you and me?

There it is, again: Love. 

"But God demonstrates His own love for us in this: while we were still sinners, Christ died for us." (Rom 5:8)

God was in the ultimate conflict. He is the perfect judge who loves and values all people. He cares infinitely about the person you're slandering, hating, and using. We are an unjust, evil lot, and He really should destroy us. But he cares about us. Conflict. How can He let us get away with all we do to one another? It's not right!In the Old Testament, He allowed scapegoats... Literally. Purified goats to take on the His people's sin. They were killed or exiled after taking on the people's sins. Wrong is serious. There must be restitution. These goats were punished, and justice was served. But was that enough? The people had to continually slaughter these animals. How could dead goats ever change dead hearts? 

Enter, Jesus, Father God incarnate. He lived the perfect life. He stepped into the darkest parts of our world and personally experienced great injustices. He met needs in His life, and He solved The Conflict with His death. He is the scapegoat for all humanity. He overcame death to prove His legitimacy and to show that with Him we can overcome. If we let Him be our scapegoat, He goes one further. More than just die for our injustices, He also promises to change our hearts. Good deeds may be nice, but they don't change who we are. At the end of the day, we're all unjust people. There are no innocent juries, no bystanders. In Christ, God gives us the power to become what we could never be: just with God and one another. 

So, for me living life, justice means listening to the Father's example of love. It means caring about people enough to stand up for what's right while simultaneously bringing the wrong-doers to restoration. That's a God-sized task.

That's not my name

*insert Ting Ting's song*

They call me Mariam...

They call me Reese...

They call me Stan...

They call me Dot...

...that's not my name.

That's not my name.

That's not my name.

That's not my.... name.

Ridiculous songs aside, it's a funny on-going discussion in Team BK as to whether or not names important. As one who easily forgets people's names, I wish they weren't. I mean, I remember people's words and life stories with no problems. So, if I forget someone's name but can tell you all about them, it's no big deal, right? Unfortunately, It seems that I'm the only one with that opinion. I may feel no need to defend the correct pronunciation of my name, but others really get angry about it. So what if Burkinabé give me a new name? If it's easier for them to remember and shout at me in the market, that's cool with me.

So, hear my thoughts: What is a name, really? Is it just some words my parents gave to distinguish me from other kids in a crowd? Does it prophesy my destiny?

Shouldn't I still be the same person, even if you forget my name? Does it change who I am to call me by something else? I mean, call a chair: a chair, sigilan dò, une chaise, or whatever you choose. You're still going to sit in it all the same.

As I've been reading through and studying the book of Daniel, this idea really stuck out in light of our running discussion. To set the scene, the Israelites are in Babylonian exile. From among a bright, young group of people we see four Jews that really stuck out: Haananiah, Mishael, Azariah, and Daniel.

As they entered their new home, the Babylonians tried to redefine them. In fact, Shadrach, Meshack and Abed-Nego are probably better cemented in history by their Babylonian names. However, we don't see it changing who the Lord had made them. In spite of the fact that Babylonians called them stuff like "Belonging to Aku" or "Servant of Nego," these youths didn't change. In the integrity of their lifestyles, they proved that they still owned their true names:
-"God is my judge"
-"God has been gracious"
-"Who is who God is?"
-"God has helped"

So, it's encouraging to me regardless of what people or culture may say that you are, you don't have to play into that identity. In Christ, God has called you His child, righteous, and loved. That's quite the name.


" The one who is victorious I will make a pillar in the temple of my God. Never again will they leave it. I will write on them the name of my God and the name of the city of my God, the new Jerusalem, which is coming down out of heaven from my God; and I will also write on them my new name."

-Rev 3:12

Legalism, the Gospel, and Disordered Eating

I wrote down my story quite a while back, but have yet to do anything with it. It's a bit long, I know, but it's my life. Wherever you may find yourself, today, I hope that it can give you hope and encouragement. For those of you who don't really like to read, I made a recording just for you. If you have any questions, feel free to comment or shoot me an email: 

             As one who became a Christian at a relatively early age, I sort of envied people who have the dramatic conversion stories. The ones which make a person just throw up their fists and say, “Right on, God!” I’m telling you now, as one who’s seen some scary places of bondage: never envy someone else’s story. The Lord has allowed you to walk through the things you have for a reason. I would never change my past, but walking through these places is not something I would advise. Learning God’s principles by listening to what Christ has said is really ideal. Unfortunately, I tend to run my own way full-throttle.

I am writing because I do not want to begin to justify enslavement to food and health as “a phase” that I could have gotten through myself. I tried. In fact, the more I tried to control my situation, the worse it became. If there is anything that I want you to get from this it is to turn to Jesus with your wounds, right away. Don’t pick at them until you’re bleeding out. Without a doubt, the Father heals the hurting. He binds up the brokenhearted. So, why not go to Him first? He created you. He knows how you really work. He knows exactly what is or is not wrong with you. He has infinite power to remedy. Why can’t we just trust Him to do what He has said? He has always proved Himself in the past, hasn’t He?!

This is just one example of God’s faithfulness. To begin, I must say, my intent was good. I wanted to honor God with my body. I wanted Christ to be my sole sufficiency, but somehow this desire was twisted to a crippling self-reliance. Satan used his half-truths to reel me far away from the truth and from God who loves me.

a healthy 120lbs

I remember where it all started. One day, my friends and I were eating pizza, and I started feeling sick. A gross feeling of fullness and a loss of self-control washed over me, and I hated it. I remembered several verses about gluttony, and how the Lord warned against it. True, I wanted to please the Lord, but I think I was much more concerned about my pride and my self-control than the fact that I had sinned against Holy God.

Honestly, I had been listening to the world a lot, too. I had heard a lot about families in Africa who eat only one time per day. From the internet, I was bombarded with how much exercise everyone should get each day, how little people should eat, and how to never finish a meal. Finally, the dining halls kept assuring me that the best way to eat was to eat a lot of stuff with essentially no calories at all. Combine all of this counsel from everywhere but the Lord, and this is a recipe for disaster!

Ironically, all the research and dwelling on health led me down a path straight to death. I determined that I would have a certain amount of calories a day, exercise more, and “be disciplined.” My weight was never an issue, but I wanted to live a “healthy” life and not become one who simply loses control. If only I had listened to the Lord and what He desired for my life and my body, then I would have saved myself a lot of struggle. 

-20ish lbs

After one semester of eating partial meals, jogging and dancing harder than all others in my classes, obsessively exercising whenever I could, and essentially paying penance for any sins to my new god, I had lost a lot of weight. I rationalized it saying that if all people lived “healthily,” they would be tiny, too. I enjoyed the idea of being rebellious against the overindulgence of my culture. Though I’m not sure of the exact number, I lost at least twenty pounds, dropping from a very healthy 120lbs to around 95. I was a skeleton, but I was pleased. . . kind of. . .

I began to realize how much it was consuming my thoughts, but I brushed off the voice of the Holy Spirit. As long as I thought I was in control, I didn’t care. All along, there were deadly partial truths I believed. Satan would bring to mind a verse from God’s Word out of context, and I would nod my head in agreement. “Did God really say . . . ? Surely, you will not die . . . ,” he would whisper. I longed so much to make the one true God happy, but I didn’t see I was only appeasing the god of self.

I had forgotten the most basic truth of knowing Christ: “He saved us, not on the basis of deeds which we have done in righteousness, but according to His mercy, by the washing of regeneration and renewing of the Holy Spirit” (Titus 3:5, NASB). Soon, my eating habits became a way to earn back the grace God had already given to me as His child. If only I ate well, then God would be happy. He would see just how much I was doing for Him and smile at me. Then, I would be super spiritual, gaining a couple extra gold stars in heaven. Yes, there’s no wrong in working to please God. However, my motives were completely skewed. I wanted to live radically, counter-culturally for Christ, but at heart, I was a Pharisee. I am a Pharisee more often than I would like to admit.

It wasn’t until later that I seriously thought twice about what I was doing. Many people began to comment on my weight loss, and I was scaring myself at times, too. I remember waiting in hunger pains for the time I had prescribed a snack. Once, I woke up starving in the middle of the night. I grabbed an apple and mourned over what I had become as I reluctantly bit into it. By this time, however, I didn’t know how to stop. I did not know what was normal or healthy anymore. I knew I was not where I should be with the Lord, either, so I ignored His calling to lay everything aside. I was obsessed, and it is ONLY the Lord’s doing that could have brought me out of this place. Fortunately, He never left me. Unfortunately, this struggle continues and so does this story.

As I went home, I was confronted more and more with people who kept telling me how horrific I looked. I knew, I really did, but how was I to explain what had happened? So honestly, I lied. I said that enough walking on campus and a new emphasis on eating well was what did it. Most people probably didn’t buy it, but that was the answer I gave, and it was a sort of truth. I knew I had a problem, though, so I turned to the Lord for help . . . kind of. I said that I would give my eating habits over to Him, but I kept the practice for myself. I would not completely give over the control that I thought I had. In retrospect, I have never been more out of control in my life.

But this led to a new whole new chapter of my story. I wanted to gain weight, but I was afraid. Weight, the one thing I had never previously cared about in my life, became a marker of obedience. I ate a bit more, prayed, and poured into God’s Word, but I began to exercise even more. In so doing, I was still living for the god of control.

Later, I traveled to Canada as a church intern, but my problems became worse. The family I lived with had a lot of children and a tight budget. So, I saw it as a service to this family not to be a burden in any way. I replaced my exercising time with time spent with the Lord. Still, I was not taking care of the Holy Spirit’s temple, because I refused to eat much at all.

When I returned home, I was still in this mindset. I know there are so many people in the world with nothing, and I wanted to spend myself on behalf of them. The last thing I wanted to do was eat food which could go to someone else, even if it wouldn’t. My heart was heavy for those who are hungry, and my provision for them was to not provide for myself. I felt guilty for being blessed instead of properly thanking God for the things with which He has blessed me. Now, it sounds ridiculous, but the lies we allow ourselves to believe often stretch just that far.

Now, my problem was that I wore my mistakes every day. I hated hugs that I once loved, because they were usually followed by a remark about the feel of my bones. I hated a kind hand on my back, where my spine and ribs protruded. I thought everyone knew my issues without me even saying a word, and I hated it. I wore the truth like a scarlet letter. Never before had I loathed my appearance so much. Ironically, my attempts to be healthy and strong only made me weaker.

Even more ironically, I let people’s opinion lead me into the very thing I hated the most from the beginning: gluttony. Every time someone would poke or prod at my skeletal figure, I became anxious. Once again, I did not trust the Lord to allow me to gain weight naturally, so I would eat myself sick to prove them wrong. Afterwards, I would pay penance to the health god I had constructed by eating less later or exercising more. Discrediting God’s faithfulness in my struggle and His unyielding grace through it all, I was a Pharisee, following my laws and missing God’s plan. I am a Pharisee more than I like to admit.

Forgetting the two laws that Jesus declared as the core of everything, I did not love the one, true God with all my heart, soul, mind and strength. I was not putting others before myself. I was attempting to somehow merit the grace that I did nothing to gain in the first place. If only I could ______ enough, then God would be pleased with me.

What I failed to see that He was ALREADY PLEASED WITH ME!!! All God wants is for me to love Him, following Him with all my might (Deuteronomy 6:5, 10:12, 11:1, Leviticus 18:30, Micah 6:8, Joshua 23:11). Yes, God is holy. He is just and righteous and worthy of great fear, but He is also loving and infinitely gracious. He doesn’t leave us alone to live this life, either. As Christians, we’re not only given a new nature, a clean slate, a relationship with the Father, but also we have the Holy Spirit. He guides us in God’s will every day if we would only listen to Him!

One huge thing the Lord taught me through this struggle is the fact that I am not above any sin. It is only by His grace that I am alive, today. It is only by His grace that I am made right with God. Those of us blessed to come to know Him at a young age should rejoice in it and thank Him every day that we did not have to learn many things the hard way. All people have the same sinful nature, and it is ONLY by the grace of God that I am not the serial killer, the glutton, the adulteress, or the thief that I declare I would never become. That’s the beauty of the Church: we’re just a bunch of patched us misfits for God’s glory. I am no better than the next person, and I have seen that. Humanly, I am no different than those who don’t know Him, except for the fact that the Holy Spirit finally made His truth click in my mind. Praise Him for it!

Like I said, it's been quite some time since this has been fresh, but the healing process still isn’t easy. I have to continually pray for guidance, because I don’t even know how to live. I cannot understand the one crucial thing that everyone can do: to eat normally. The only way I have found to live (in general, but especially with this) is to give it over to Christ, to trust my identity in Him. He will take care of me. Control and weight is no longer my focus. I’ve got a race to run. 

present day