This is the scariest blog I have ever written. It's been floating around in my head for months, but it's never actually come together.
I think that will surprise a lot of people. I am one to be open about my past and present. I have no trouble telling people that I have battled and eating disorder or that I have extremely mild cerebral palsy. And I feel the need to share this story for the same reason I have shared the others: 1) to shed light on a topic that is misunderstood by so many, especially given recent happenings in the news, and 2) to give God the glory for what He has done in my life. The catch is, when you tell someone you were born with mild cerebral palsy or that you are recovered from disordered eating, no one in their right mind will look at you and say, "It's all your fault."
Coming out as a sexual assault survivor is another story.
We've all heard at least one of the comments, either referring to a news story or someone we know personally. "She shouldn't have been drinking." "He was asking for it." "Why was she walking alone at night?" In some cases, like mine, the comments might be more marginalizing than blaming. "Well, that happens to everybody at some point, it's no big deal." "Poor boys these days, can't do anything without being accused of something." "He was just a kid, how could he have known better? You're making a big deal out of nothing."
Recently, many women I know have come out as fellow assault survivors, including members of my own family. I have messaged them privately to thank them and tell them I can relate, but it's taken me many attempts to actually put my own story out there. In some ways, it doesn't feel like my experience "counts." It was a child-on-child assault; I was 8 years old and he was maybe ten or eleven. I honestly didn't realize what was happening until after the fact, when a witness (the same age as my perpetrator) accused, "You had SEX with him!"
For the next three years, I carried my secret. Between the shame that always comes after an assault and the "purity culture" of the 90's that taught that premarital sex was borderline unforgivable (yes, this was ground into me as early as grade school), I was convinced there was no way I could ever tell anyone what had happened without being ostracized for the rest of my life. Because I hadn't understood what was happening until after the fact, I hadn't said, "No," or "Stop," - because I hadn't refused what he was doing, then I must have given him my consent and therefore I was guilty. My perpetrator moved away and all contact was lost, but his peer who had witnessed the event continued to use it to blackmail me, threatening to spread the word if I didn't submit to their wishes. Thankfully, they never demanded anything sexual from me, but I found myself in plenty of humiliating situations, taking the blame for something they had done. I felt like a helpless puppet, controlled by a five-minute incident in my past, with no hope of escape- surely, not even God could hear my cries for help when I had committed such an atrocity.
But God heard my cries. In fifth grade, I confided my story to a classmate who turned out to be one of the truest friends I have ever known. I told her the story from the perspective of my own guilt, trying to explain that it had been "an accident," but somehow, at age 11, she was able to hear what had really happened. Even though I swore her to secrecy, she took a great risk (knowing how mean 5th-grade girls could be when one betrayed another) and told our guidance counselor what I had told her. On the last day of 5th grade the counselor came into our classroom, where I was cleaning out my desk, and asked me to come with her. Once we were inside her office, the first words she said to me were, "[Classmate] told me that someone hurt you three years ago, and you are afraid to tell anyone." I burst into tears of relief at her words. "Hurt you." Not, "You have a confession you need to make," or "You feel bad about something you did." Someone acknowledged that I had been hurt.
My counselor contacted my parents (who were horrified and heartbroken for me) and referred all of us to a community counselor, and we began taking steps toward healing. The peer witness eventually reached a level of maturity where they could see the seriousness of what had happened, and we were able to come to reconciliation. I have no idea where my perpetrator is, and I have no desire to find out (and I trust my readers to respect that).
My guidance counselor, the community counselor, and my parents were all wonderfully supportive of me through the healing process, but there was no magic moment when everything was "gone." There were many reasons why I slipped into an eating disorder and was treated for anxiety, but I know that the shame and fear I felt after the assault were major factors. Even writing this story brings back dark memories that will probably never go away completely on this side of eternity. But, it's a story that needs to be told.
To anyone who has, works with, volunteers with, or cares about children, I beg you: listen when a child complains that someone else is bothering them. I'm a teacher and I've spent many years volunteering in children's ministry at church; believe me, I know it's tiring to listen to tattling. But if a child complains of intentional unwanted touching, it's not something they can be told to "just ignore" or "tell them to stop." Children need to understand that their bodies are their own, and that they can count on trusted adults to defend them when others won't respect their boundaries. The children who are doing the touching need to understand the seriousness of their actions. We keep saying "teach rapists not to rape," but is anyone actually telling children that they must leave someone else alone when told to do so (and enforcing the teaching with appropriate consequences)?
Parents, your children need to know the difference between "fighting" (intended to hurt or get revenge on someone) and "self-defense" (doing what you need to do to escape an unsafe situation)- and they also need to understand that, if they cannot defend themselves or find someone else to protect them, they are innocent victims, not failures. They need to understand the difference between affectionate or guiding touch, or an honest accident, and touch that is abusive. And they need to hear this from you- we teachers will try to talk about it, we might bring in a police liaison or guidance counselor to talk about it, but it won't have the same effect coming from us. Your children need to know to come to you if anyone- stranger, friend, man, woman, adult, child- does something or even says something inappropriate, they can tell you, and they need to know you won't ask, "Why did you...?" or "Why didn't you...?" They "did" or "didn't" because someone took advantage of their innocence and betrayed their trust. Save your anger for the ones who deserve it.
Finally, to those who are living in the shameful shadow of sexual assault, I share my story to let you know, there is hope for healing. There are people who care, who will listen if you start speaking. There are people who specifically chose to study ways to help you and make careers out of it, not for the money or prestige, but because they care. And there is a God who loves you, who sees you as worth dying for, even when you see yourself as worthless. There is a Savior who knows what it feels like to carry guilt when you are innocent- He has carried the sin and shame of the entire world to the cross.
How public you go with your story is your choice. What kinds of legal action you take or what kinds of care you receive are your choice. But, please, don't suffer in silence- don't believe the lie that you are at fault or that you deserve the pain you feel. Come out from behind that shadow- myself and others who have been there will be there for you, on the other side.
Wednesday, August 31, 2016
Wednesday, March 2, 2016
My Eating Disorder Story Part 2: "Health Equals Weight Loss...right?"
Go scroll through your Facebook feed right now, and try to count how many things you see about weight loss. How many ads do you see (either posted by ad partners or by your own Facebook friends) promoting weight loss products or strategies? Or go watch TV for a bit, and see how many advertisements talk about loosing weight. Look at the magazines on display in the store check-out line and see how many covers mention dieting or loosing weight.
Sometimes, successful losers will talk about their improved appearance, lowered cholesterol, or reversed pre-diabetes. More often, though, they will talk about how their entire life was changed by weight-loss- how it saved their marriage (or got them a marriage partner!), improved their career, brought healing from past traumatic experiences, etc. Now, don't get me wrong- being overweight or obese is often the result of underlying conditions, which may be physical or psychological. It's great to hear about people who receive a diagnosis and can begin the path to healing...but, all too often, these commercials will promise anything- from a svelte figure to a dream date- to sell whatever weight loss product they can.
It's overwhelming. As a pre-teen, the message I was getting was that, if the number on the scale was dropping, then my health was improving, more people would notice me and love me, and I was becoming more valuable and accepted as a person.
As early as fourth grade, my classmates and I were being lectured about obesity and the dangers of eating anything with fat or sugar in it- I learned to fear many perfectly healthy foods, such as avocados or lean red meats. I was told that my health could be measured by simple P.E. tests- tests that I would usually fail because I had (undiagnosed) cerebral palsy and athletic asthma.
By sixth grade, I would skip meals every opportunity I got, or, if I ate, I would only eat foods I considered "good," such as lettuce or a little bit of white meat. I was experimenting with purging. In high school, I would use my unscheduled time to go to the weight room and do the "fat-burning" workouts on the cardio machine. In my mind, if I was making the number on the scale go down, I was improving my health and my worth.
The catch: I have always been thin. I am 5' 5 1/2" and have never weighed more than 130 pounds- and I weighed much less in high school. I have always had a fast metabolism and lived an active lifestyle. Looking back, I was denying myself the proper amount of calories and vital nutrients such as protein, iron, and healthy fats. I wasn't getting anywhere in my workouts because I wasn't getting enough calories or doing the right resistance training to build strength. As a result, my health was actually declining. I had small black-out spells in P.E. or at tennis practice. I felt tired and got out of breath easily (my asthma symptoms were exacerbated by the lack of nutrients). However, in my mind, this was further evidence that I needed to loose weight. At ages fifteen and sixteen, I was trying to get my body to look like it did when I was twelve. I can remember one week during my freshman year of high school where I noticed my jeans didn't fit and I had "gained" three pounds (I didn't realize it was water weight from my monthly cycle), and I went into panic mode. I skipped lunch every day that week and threw up anything my parents made me eat. By the end of the week, my clothes fit again and I was back to my normal weight, and I felt as though I had hit a major health milestone. I had lost weight. Never mind the fact that I didn't NEED to loose it, or the horrible dieting methods I had just used. Loosing weight was healthy!
While I physically recovered from disordered eating at age seventeen, it has only been in the past eighteen months that I have realized that part of being healthy (for me) is keeping weight ON, not just keeping it off. For the first time in my life, I started being conscious about getting enough protein and calories, and I lightened up on my cardio and started focusing more on lifting weights. I felt like my appearance improved, but more importantly, my energy levels increased and I had less trouble with dizziness or blackouts.
Above all else, I've realized that the number on the scale is just that: a number. It does not make me a better friend, daughter, sister or teacher. My value does not come from my weight or my BMI. Rather, my value comes from a Savior who has bestowed His own righteousness upon me.
May I never forget.
Sometimes, successful losers will talk about their improved appearance, lowered cholesterol, or reversed pre-diabetes. More often, though, they will talk about how their entire life was changed by weight-loss- how it saved their marriage (or got them a marriage partner!), improved their career, brought healing from past traumatic experiences, etc. Now, don't get me wrong- being overweight or obese is often the result of underlying conditions, which may be physical or psychological. It's great to hear about people who receive a diagnosis and can begin the path to healing...but, all too often, these commercials will promise anything- from a svelte figure to a dream date- to sell whatever weight loss product they can.
It's overwhelming. As a pre-teen, the message I was getting was that, if the number on the scale was dropping, then my health was improving, more people would notice me and love me, and I was becoming more valuable and accepted as a person.
As early as fourth grade, my classmates and I were being lectured about obesity and the dangers of eating anything with fat or sugar in it- I learned to fear many perfectly healthy foods, such as avocados or lean red meats. I was told that my health could be measured by simple P.E. tests- tests that I would usually fail because I had (undiagnosed) cerebral palsy and athletic asthma.
By sixth grade, I would skip meals every opportunity I got, or, if I ate, I would only eat foods I considered "good," such as lettuce or a little bit of white meat. I was experimenting with purging. In high school, I would use my unscheduled time to go to the weight room and do the "fat-burning" workouts on the cardio machine. In my mind, if I was making the number on the scale go down, I was improving my health and my worth.
The catch: I have always been thin. I am 5' 5 1/2" and have never weighed more than 130 pounds- and I weighed much less in high school. I have always had a fast metabolism and lived an active lifestyle. Looking back, I was denying myself the proper amount of calories and vital nutrients such as protein, iron, and healthy fats. I wasn't getting anywhere in my workouts because I wasn't getting enough calories or doing the right resistance training to build strength. As a result, my health was actually declining. I had small black-out spells in P.E. or at tennis practice. I felt tired and got out of breath easily (my asthma symptoms were exacerbated by the lack of nutrients). However, in my mind, this was further evidence that I needed to loose weight. At ages fifteen and sixteen, I was trying to get my body to look like it did when I was twelve. I can remember one week during my freshman year of high school where I noticed my jeans didn't fit and I had "gained" three pounds (I didn't realize it was water weight from my monthly cycle), and I went into panic mode. I skipped lunch every day that week and threw up anything my parents made me eat. By the end of the week, my clothes fit again and I was back to my normal weight, and I felt as though I had hit a major health milestone. I had lost weight. Never mind the fact that I didn't NEED to loose it, or the horrible dieting methods I had just used. Loosing weight was healthy!
While I physically recovered from disordered eating at age seventeen, it has only been in the past eighteen months that I have realized that part of being healthy (for me) is keeping weight ON, not just keeping it off. For the first time in my life, I started being conscious about getting enough protein and calories, and I lightened up on my cardio and started focusing more on lifting weights. I felt like my appearance improved, but more importantly, my energy levels increased and I had less trouble with dizziness or blackouts.
Above all else, I've realized that the number on the scale is just that: a number. It does not make me a better friend, daughter, sister or teacher. My value does not come from my weight or my BMI. Rather, my value comes from a Savior who has bestowed His own righteousness upon me.
May I never forget.
Sunday, January 24, 2016
My Eating Disorder Story Part 1: "A Glamorous Girl's Disease"
Two weeks ago, I posted a Facebook status celebrating 12 years of
freedom from anorexia and bulimia. I received an overwhelming number of
"likes" and encouraging comments, and was blessed to see people
praising God for His healing work in my life.
I also received questions. I welcomed this because, the whole reason I have chosen to be open about my past is because I want to help others who may be facing the same lies I once believed. I try to answer these questions individually, but, I also felt I should address some things publicly as a preventative approach. Please understand that I write from the perspective of someone who dealt with anorexia and bulimia as a teenage girl- I know that eating disorders know no culture, gender, or age group, and they can take on many, many forms besides obsessive dieting and weight control, but I am addressing that which I personally have experienced. I plan to make this a three-part blog addressing some of the issues that lead to my eating disorder, and how people with the best of intentions may be inadvertently putting more people at risk.
One of the primary reasons I slipped into disordered eating was the continued "glamorization" of eating disorders by society. I saw a slew of movies- some were popular "teen movies" at the time, others were "after school specials" shown in health class or even in church settings to address eating disorders. Some of these movies included "Center Stage," "The Karen Carpenter Story," "The Secret Life of Mary Margaret" and "Secret Between Friends." All of these movies portrayed heroines or close supporting roles with eating disorders, and they were all portrayed as glamorous, popular, and successful. In many of these movies, the eating disorder is almost portrayed as some sort of secret weapon that women used to achieve their goals. In the true story "The Secret Life of Mary Margaret," the main character uses disordered eating to stay thin and succeed in modeling. The narrator (the real-life Mary Margaret) even explains that she hid her bulimia by vomiting into containers in her bedroom and disposing of them in secret, so her parents wouldn't wonder why she spent time in the bathroom after every meal- not only was I learning that eating disorders were a key to success, but I learned ways that I could hide my struggle from my parents. Often, these movies had a similar ending- the character's health goes into jeopardy, and everyone, including absentee parents, the mean girls from school, or the main character's crush, come out of the woodwork to support them and encourage them to recover, and all their life's problems are solved.
Outside of the movies, there were true stories with less happy endings, but with a similar message- eating disorders are what models, ballerinas, and any other beautiful women use to succeed. In the minds of many teenage girls (including my own) eating disorders were perceived more and more as a key to success and less and less like the nightmare they really are.
This might seem irrational, but there are some key points to keep in mind. First, for a teen girl or a young woman (or for any human!) popularity, success, and beauty are end-all goals. Even for a teen who is actively walking with the Lord (as I was trying to do!), it is often beyond their maturity levels and their understanding of life to know that popularity, success, and physical beauty are not worth the price of one's health. Second, we all hear the word "addiction," and know what it means, but we all believe addiction isn't something that can happen to us. We all think we are strong enough to experiment with something addictive and drop it whenever we want- if we were in touch with reality, no one would ever fall prey to addiction. Myself and many of my peers subconsciously believed that we could play around with anorexia and bulimia until we reached whatever goal we were after, and then could stop and resume normal eating and exercise habits. Finally, keep in mind this is all subconscious- the first time I tried making myself throw up at age 11, I didn't know what I was doing. I didn't understand the psychological connection I had made between being pretty, popular, and lovable, and with disordered eating. Because it was ground so deeply into me, it would take much more than a simple, "You know that doesn't make you any prettier, right?" to reverse.
I think anyone who has recovered from an eating disorder will testify that it did nothing to increase their success or their physical beauty- and, even if it had, it's simply not worth the physical or emotional pain. Even people who were overweight and dropped to an "ideal" weight through anorexia or bulimia will often say that the emotional torment and physical health issues were not worth it (and that the weight-loss didn't last). Personally, I rarely talk to high school or even college friends any more, and, when I do, none of them remember who was popular or won what award in high school. Personally, I did eventually had some success in modeling and pageantry, but that came years after I was fully recovered- in fact, I often work to gain healthy muscle weight before a modeling audition or pageant.
Similarly, almost any survivor of anorexia or bulimia will remember the moment when they wanted to stop, but realized they couldn't. I can remember at age 15, trying to get through a school day with severe pain in my throat and in my abdominal muscles (I must have pulled them while purging) and thinking that I needed to stop before I hurt myself in a worse way- but it would be another two years before I would recover, and only then after I found the courage to seek professional help. My counselor told me that an eating disorder is much like an abusive relationship- there is a constant voice telling you that you must stick with it and accept the pain that it causes, or your whole life will fall apart. Increased popularity and success will not come from eating disorders, but addiction and pain almost always will.
I write this blog first as a plea to anyone who may be falling for the lie that anorexia or bulimia (or any other self-destructive behavior) will somehow put you on a path towards reaching "life goals". Please hear me when I say there is nothing glamorous or beneficial about disordered eating- it will consume you physically, emotionally, and financially. If you find you are already trapped in addiction, please know that healing can begin when you ask for help- no, your crush might not rush to your side to support you, but there are counselors and doctors who will support you and who will want nothing more than to see you restored to health.
I also write this blog as a plea to our society, particularly those who are in leadership or role model positions toward teen girls. Please think twice before showing a movie or reading a story about an eating disorder survivor- ask yourself if this story portrays eating disorders as a secret to success, or a "glamorous girls' disease"? Maybe the character in question goes through horrific health issues or even dies, but again, remember that no one believes the addiction aspect will actually happen to them. Be aware of how you talk about eating disorders and weight in general- is someone with an eating disorder a "poor, innocent person who has been lied to by the media," whereas someone who is overweight is "lazy and driving up healthcare costs?" Do you talk about models or any other "glamorous" profession with the assumption that disordered eating is the only way to succeed in that industry? You might hear yourself saying, "It's not worth it," but so many young women will hear, "If you want to make it, it you want to be loveable or successful, stop eating now!"
I welcome responses, in agreement or argument. This is my personal experience and the experience of other young women I have known, but everyone has a different story. The only way we can make these stories known is to share them and talk about them!
I also received questions. I welcomed this because, the whole reason I have chosen to be open about my past is because I want to help others who may be facing the same lies I once believed. I try to answer these questions individually, but, I also felt I should address some things publicly as a preventative approach. Please understand that I write from the perspective of someone who dealt with anorexia and bulimia as a teenage girl- I know that eating disorders know no culture, gender, or age group, and they can take on many, many forms besides obsessive dieting and weight control, but I am addressing that which I personally have experienced. I plan to make this a three-part blog addressing some of the issues that lead to my eating disorder, and how people with the best of intentions may be inadvertently putting more people at risk.
One of the primary reasons I slipped into disordered eating was the continued "glamorization" of eating disorders by society. I saw a slew of movies- some were popular "teen movies" at the time, others were "after school specials" shown in health class or even in church settings to address eating disorders. Some of these movies included "Center Stage," "The Karen Carpenter Story," "The Secret Life of Mary Margaret" and "Secret Between Friends." All of these movies portrayed heroines or close supporting roles with eating disorders, and they were all portrayed as glamorous, popular, and successful. In many of these movies, the eating disorder is almost portrayed as some sort of secret weapon that women used to achieve their goals. In the true story "The Secret Life of Mary Margaret," the main character uses disordered eating to stay thin and succeed in modeling. The narrator (the real-life Mary Margaret) even explains that she hid her bulimia by vomiting into containers in her bedroom and disposing of them in secret, so her parents wouldn't wonder why she spent time in the bathroom after every meal- not only was I learning that eating disorders were a key to success, but I learned ways that I could hide my struggle from my parents. Often, these movies had a similar ending- the character's health goes into jeopardy, and everyone, including absentee parents, the mean girls from school, or the main character's crush, come out of the woodwork to support them and encourage them to recover, and all their life's problems are solved.
Outside of the movies, there were true stories with less happy endings, but with a similar message- eating disorders are what models, ballerinas, and any other beautiful women use to succeed. In the minds of many teenage girls (including my own) eating disorders were perceived more and more as a key to success and less and less like the nightmare they really are.
This might seem irrational, but there are some key points to keep in mind. First, for a teen girl or a young woman (or for any human!) popularity, success, and beauty are end-all goals. Even for a teen who is actively walking with the Lord (as I was trying to do!), it is often beyond their maturity levels and their understanding of life to know that popularity, success, and physical beauty are not worth the price of one's health. Second, we all hear the word "addiction," and know what it means, but we all believe addiction isn't something that can happen to us. We all think we are strong enough to experiment with something addictive and drop it whenever we want- if we were in touch with reality, no one would ever fall prey to addiction. Myself and many of my peers subconsciously believed that we could play around with anorexia and bulimia until we reached whatever goal we were after, and then could stop and resume normal eating and exercise habits. Finally, keep in mind this is all subconscious- the first time I tried making myself throw up at age 11, I didn't know what I was doing. I didn't understand the psychological connection I had made between being pretty, popular, and lovable, and with disordered eating. Because it was ground so deeply into me, it would take much more than a simple, "You know that doesn't make you any prettier, right?" to reverse.
I think anyone who has recovered from an eating disorder will testify that it did nothing to increase their success or their physical beauty- and, even if it had, it's simply not worth the physical or emotional pain. Even people who were overweight and dropped to an "ideal" weight through anorexia or bulimia will often say that the emotional torment and physical health issues were not worth it (and that the weight-loss didn't last). Personally, I rarely talk to high school or even college friends any more, and, when I do, none of them remember who was popular or won what award in high school. Personally, I did eventually had some success in modeling and pageantry, but that came years after I was fully recovered- in fact, I often work to gain healthy muscle weight before a modeling audition or pageant.
Similarly, almost any survivor of anorexia or bulimia will remember the moment when they wanted to stop, but realized they couldn't. I can remember at age 15, trying to get through a school day with severe pain in my throat and in my abdominal muscles (I must have pulled them while purging) and thinking that I needed to stop before I hurt myself in a worse way- but it would be another two years before I would recover, and only then after I found the courage to seek professional help. My counselor told me that an eating disorder is much like an abusive relationship- there is a constant voice telling you that you must stick with it and accept the pain that it causes, or your whole life will fall apart. Increased popularity and success will not come from eating disorders, but addiction and pain almost always will.
I write this blog first as a plea to anyone who may be falling for the lie that anorexia or bulimia (or any other self-destructive behavior) will somehow put you on a path towards reaching "life goals". Please hear me when I say there is nothing glamorous or beneficial about disordered eating- it will consume you physically, emotionally, and financially. If you find you are already trapped in addiction, please know that healing can begin when you ask for help- no, your crush might not rush to your side to support you, but there are counselors and doctors who will support you and who will want nothing more than to see you restored to health.
I also write this blog as a plea to our society, particularly those who are in leadership or role model positions toward teen girls. Please think twice before showing a movie or reading a story about an eating disorder survivor- ask yourself if this story portrays eating disorders as a secret to success, or a "glamorous girls' disease"? Maybe the character in question goes through horrific health issues or even dies, but again, remember that no one believes the addiction aspect will actually happen to them. Be aware of how you talk about eating disorders and weight in general- is someone with an eating disorder a "poor, innocent person who has been lied to by the media," whereas someone who is overweight is "lazy and driving up healthcare costs?" Do you talk about models or any other "glamorous" profession with the assumption that disordered eating is the only way to succeed in that industry? You might hear yourself saying, "It's not worth it," but so many young women will hear, "If you want to make it, it you want to be loveable or successful, stop eating now!"
I welcome responses, in agreement or argument. This is my personal experience and the experience of other young women I have known, but everyone has a different story. The only way we can make these stories known is to share them and talk about them!
Wednesday, November 12, 2014
"Faithful to You"
So many unanswered questions
Racing in circles through my head,
I keep asking for deliverance,
I hear silence instead.
I know that You are sovereign,
And You have a perfect plan,
So I'm trying to trust You
Even when I don't understand.
So as You walk me through this trial,
As You guide me day by day,
As You refine me by Your Holy fire,
All I can do is pray,
May I be found faithful,
May my heart be only Yours!
May I give You all my worship,
May You be the one that I adore.
When I gave You my life,
I said I'd follow You,
Now, as You test that promise,
May I be found true.
May I be found faithful to You!
It's easy to praise You,
When I see blessings poured out,
But the first drop in a rainstorm
Can flood this heart with doubt.
But, even so, You're with me,
Commanding the wind and waves.
Your grace is still unfailing,
And Your hand is strong to save.
If You never forsake me,
No matter what life brings,
What else can I do, Lord,
But lift my hands and sing,
May I be found faithful,
May my heart be only Yours!
May I give You all my worship,
May You be the one that I adore.
When I gave You my life,
I said I'd follow You,
Now, as You test that promise,
May I be found true,
May I be found faithful to You!
When the smoke and ashes clear,
When the flood waters recede,
Whether that day comes here on earth,
Or in eternity,
May I be found faithful,
May my heart be only Yours!
May I give You all my worship,
May You be the one that I adore.
When I gave You my life,
I said I'd follow You,
Now, as You test that promise,
May I be found true,
May I be found faithful to You.
May I be found faithful to You!
Racing in circles through my head,
I keep asking for deliverance,
I hear silence instead.
I know that You are sovereign,
And You have a perfect plan,
So I'm trying to trust You
Even when I don't understand.
So as You walk me through this trial,
As You guide me day by day,
As You refine me by Your Holy fire,
All I can do is pray,
May I be found faithful,
May my heart be only Yours!
May I give You all my worship,
May You be the one that I adore.
When I gave You my life,
I said I'd follow You,
Now, as You test that promise,
May I be found true.
May I be found faithful to You!
It's easy to praise You,
When I see blessings poured out,
But the first drop in a rainstorm
Can flood this heart with doubt.
But, even so, You're with me,
Commanding the wind and waves.
Your grace is still unfailing,
And Your hand is strong to save.
If You never forsake me,
No matter what life brings,
What else can I do, Lord,
But lift my hands and sing,
May I be found faithful,
May my heart be only Yours!
May I give You all my worship,
May You be the one that I adore.
When I gave You my life,
I said I'd follow You,
Now, as You test that promise,
May I be found true,
May I be found faithful to You!
When the smoke and ashes clear,
When the flood waters recede,
Whether that day comes here on earth,
Or in eternity,
May I be found faithful,
May my heart be only Yours!
May I give You all my worship,
May You be the one that I adore.
When I gave You my life,
I said I'd follow You,
Now, as You test that promise,
May I be found true,
May I be found faithful to You.
May I be found faithful to You!
Saturday, October 25, 2014
A Single Woman's Plea to the Church
First off, let me clarify something:
I have been a part of six different churches throughout the past 28 years (and countless other Christian circles), and I am in the process of settling into the seventh- which I hope will be my last! I have deliberately changed churches once (for a long list of small reasons; not a particularly drastic theological shift); every other change has come with a change in my geographical location. What I am about to discuss is not directed at any of the churches I have attended, or at anyone who has attended there with me. I am going off of my own experiences, as well as the experiences of my single friends and acquaintances and even fellow bloggers. This issue arises across the board, and people are not even aware that it is an issue because it is done in complete innocence, with the best of intentions...but it can actually cause a lot of heartache and possible disfunction within a church.
I think it's a scenario we've all seen: a seemingly-single woman walks into a church for Sunday service. People notice her, and many go out of their ways to connect with her and make sure she feels welcome in the church. As people get to know her, it comes up that yes, she is indeed single, and she is hoping and praying that the Lord has a husband and a family in her future. So, people immediately start thinking of the single men they know- either within that same church, or that they know from work, school, the Bible study they attend outside of church- and start telling her all about this really great, Christian guy they know who would be "just perfect" for her, and she should really start thinking about him.
Right there is where the problem comes in.
She should really start thinking about him...why??
I'm not talking about someone setting up two good friends for a blind date, or inviting them both to a group event to give them a chance to meet and see if they will hit it off. I'm talking about people who start telling a single gal all about this great single guy, whether it's intended in good fun or seriousness, but all they ever do is tease her about him, ask her what she thinks of him, ask her if anything is happening between the two of them, as if her life is a sitcom where all the viewers know she and this guy are going to end up together and are just waiting for it to actually happen.
This is problematic on so many levels for so many reasons. I could write an entire book on the headaches and heartaches that I, along with so many other single women that I know, have experienced as a result of this, or the confusion that I've seen brought into Christian circles because of it, but I'll just list a few of them:
1. It does NOT encourage a woman to guard her heart!
Christian men are (rightfully!) taught to be cautious of leading women on with flirty texts, long heart-to-heart talks, or romantic gestures when he doesn't intend to follow through. Such behavior sets unsuspecting women up for a major heartbreak. However, women can set themselves up for this same heartbreak by allowing themselves to zero in on a particular guy and dream about him being "the one." Once reality sets in and we realize he isn't our Prince Charming, it can be devastating, even if there was never a real relationship between us. We may not be as likely as men to struggle with lust or physical temptation (not to say we are immune to it!), but we are far more likely to struggle with guarding our hearts. You might think that teasing a woman about the new guy in your church or Bible study is good fun, but, truthfully, it can be a huge stumbling block which leads to a lot of unnecessary hurt for her in the end.
2. It's a distraction for her.
All Christians will probably agree that one of the blessings of singleness is that it allows us to better focus on serving the Lord and growing closer to Him. Why rob her of such a blessing by urging her to focus on that one "really great" single guy? Proverbs 4:23 commands us: "Above all else, guard your heart, because everything you do flows from it." When our hearts are focused on the Lord, it's easy to seek His calling on our lives and to strive to know Him more. However, when our hearts become focused on winning over a guy, the deeds that flow from our hearts can quickly shift from "What can I do out of love for Christ?" to "What can I do to get to know this guy better and get him to notice me?" Needless to say, when one person in a church or ministry starts serving with the wrong intentions, the entire body of believers can be affected.
3. It strips her of her identity
One of the biggest challenge a single man or woman faces when joining a new church or ministry can be trying to fit in with all the married couples and families. If other church or ministry members treat us as equal, encourage us to get involved and serve, invite us to events geared towards adults, etc, this barrier can be overcome. On the other hand, when the focus of every conversation seems to be about why we should think about so-and-so, asking if anything has happened lately in the romance department, teasing us about our future with this guy, etc, it carries a strong underlying message: "You need to change to be like us." Never mind that she shares in your love for the Lord and desires to serve Him as part of your church family or ministry group. Never mind the career, hobbies, or platforms that she may have in common with you- her identity becomes, "The Single Woman" who needs to be rescued from her single state so she can really fit in with everyone else.
4. It can get really, really awkward...or worse
If a woman is interested in the guy you're talking about (or, if listening to you portray him as a Knight in Shining Armor causes her to start falling for him), and things fall through, it can lead not only to heartache for her, but confused and broken relationships within a body. If he starts dating (or marries) somebody else, than she is left with feelings of bitterness and jealousy to deal with. If she has been entertaining romantic daydreams about him and he is the slightest bit friendly to her, she starts can quickly start to imagine that he is showing interest- and feel as though he "lead her on" when nothing comes of it. If she's not interested in him, ideally she should be able to just tell others, "Nah, that wouldn't work out," and be done...but does it ever work that way?? No, people need to know why she's not interested, and then need to try to convince her that she's wrong to not be interested in him. Newsflash: if she's not interested, she doesn't owe you an explanation.
And, sometimes, to be frank...trying to spark a woman's interest in a certain guy can be outright insulting. On more than one occasion, I have been pressured to like a guy with serious issues or character flaws because "I could help him," or even because "I'm being too picky." Really? REALLY?? Is singleness so horrible that I should "settle" for a guy who needs professional help before he can handle a relationship? Is it really too "picky" of me to want a guy who has his life together?
5. It's a distraction...to you.
Before I left for the mission field, I was shocked at how many people were hung up on their hopes that I was going to meet Mr. Right there. They were more interested in my love life than in the ministry I was taking part in overseas, the people I was ministering to, the people I was working with on the field, the intercultural experience I was having...sometimes, I wondered if these people were really praying for the requests that I sent out in my monthly newsletter, or if they just skimmed it for an engagement announcement and then deleted it when they didn't see one.
The Bible is full of commands for Christ-followers: Care for orphans and widows in their distress (James 1:27), to preach the gospel to all of creation (Mark 16:15), to love one another as Christ has loved us (John 13:34), to love the Lord with all our hearts, souls, and minds (Matthew 22:37). Notice the command that doesn't appear anywhere in the Bible: cure the disease of singleness! Urge your single sisters to think about any and every available guy!
Around the world, there are orphans living in deplorable conditions. There are single mothers struggling to do it all. There are people who do not have the Bible in their language or have never heard the name of Jesus. There is a God who is worthy of our wholehearted worship and devotion. And we feel the need to sit around teasing a single gal about the latest eligible bachelor on the block? If you want her to "feel accepted" by your church family, if you want her to be "as happy as you are," than gather together members of your ministry or church family- singles, marrieds, parents, youth, seniors- and ask God to show you how He would have you, as a body of believers, obey these commands.
My plea on behalf of single women to the rest of the Church: Let God write our love stories. If He wants us single- whether it be for now or our entire lives- nothing good can come out of interfering with His plan. If He does have someone out there for us, than nothing will stop Him from bringing us together in His perfect timing. In the meantime, encourage us to serve Him and walk with Him. Be the kind of friend that, if we think God may be bringing someone special into our lives, we can turn to for prayer, support and accountability. Or, when we get tired of waiting and wondering if we are ever going to meet someone, when we wonder if there's something wrong with us that makes us undesirable, when we're asking why God has answered everyone else's prayer for a spouse but seems to be ignoring us, be the kind of friend who will listen without giving unsolicited advice, who will pray with us, who will speak TRUTH into our lives, not make false promises that God has someone out there for everyone, or that He will fulfill every desire we have.
As a single woman desiring marriage and a family, I have to choose daily to remember that my lack of a relationship is not what defines me, that God is good and He is Sovereign, and that He is the only one who can be entrusted with my whole heart. Believe me, it's a battle that I must continuously fight.
Can I count on my brothers and sisters in Christ to fight with me?
I have been a part of six different churches throughout the past 28 years (and countless other Christian circles), and I am in the process of settling into the seventh- which I hope will be my last! I have deliberately changed churches once (for a long list of small reasons; not a particularly drastic theological shift); every other change has come with a change in my geographical location. What I am about to discuss is not directed at any of the churches I have attended, or at anyone who has attended there with me. I am going off of my own experiences, as well as the experiences of my single friends and acquaintances and even fellow bloggers. This issue arises across the board, and people are not even aware that it is an issue because it is done in complete innocence, with the best of intentions...but it can actually cause a lot of heartache and possible disfunction within a church.
I think it's a scenario we've all seen: a seemingly-single woman walks into a church for Sunday service. People notice her, and many go out of their ways to connect with her and make sure she feels welcome in the church. As people get to know her, it comes up that yes, she is indeed single, and she is hoping and praying that the Lord has a husband and a family in her future. So, people immediately start thinking of the single men they know- either within that same church, or that they know from work, school, the Bible study they attend outside of church- and start telling her all about this really great, Christian guy they know who would be "just perfect" for her, and she should really start thinking about him.
Right there is where the problem comes in.
She should really start thinking about him...why??
I'm not talking about someone setting up two good friends for a blind date, or inviting them both to a group event to give them a chance to meet and see if they will hit it off. I'm talking about people who start telling a single gal all about this great single guy, whether it's intended in good fun or seriousness, but all they ever do is tease her about him, ask her what she thinks of him, ask her if anything is happening between the two of them, as if her life is a sitcom where all the viewers know she and this guy are going to end up together and are just waiting for it to actually happen.
This is problematic on so many levels for so many reasons. I could write an entire book on the headaches and heartaches that I, along with so many other single women that I know, have experienced as a result of this, or the confusion that I've seen brought into Christian circles because of it, but I'll just list a few of them:
1. It does NOT encourage a woman to guard her heart!
Christian men are (rightfully!) taught to be cautious of leading women on with flirty texts, long heart-to-heart talks, or romantic gestures when he doesn't intend to follow through. Such behavior sets unsuspecting women up for a major heartbreak. However, women can set themselves up for this same heartbreak by allowing themselves to zero in on a particular guy and dream about him being "the one." Once reality sets in and we realize he isn't our Prince Charming, it can be devastating, even if there was never a real relationship between us. We may not be as likely as men to struggle with lust or physical temptation (not to say we are immune to it!), but we are far more likely to struggle with guarding our hearts. You might think that teasing a woman about the new guy in your church or Bible study is good fun, but, truthfully, it can be a huge stumbling block which leads to a lot of unnecessary hurt for her in the end.
2. It's a distraction for her.
All Christians will probably agree that one of the blessings of singleness is that it allows us to better focus on serving the Lord and growing closer to Him. Why rob her of such a blessing by urging her to focus on that one "really great" single guy? Proverbs 4:23 commands us: "Above all else, guard your heart, because everything you do flows from it." When our hearts are focused on the Lord, it's easy to seek His calling on our lives and to strive to know Him more. However, when our hearts become focused on winning over a guy, the deeds that flow from our hearts can quickly shift from "What can I do out of love for Christ?" to "What can I do to get to know this guy better and get him to notice me?" Needless to say, when one person in a church or ministry starts serving with the wrong intentions, the entire body of believers can be affected.
3. It strips her of her identity
One of the biggest challenge a single man or woman faces when joining a new church or ministry can be trying to fit in with all the married couples and families. If other church or ministry members treat us as equal, encourage us to get involved and serve, invite us to events geared towards adults, etc, this barrier can be overcome. On the other hand, when the focus of every conversation seems to be about why we should think about so-and-so, asking if anything has happened lately in the romance department, teasing us about our future with this guy, etc, it carries a strong underlying message: "You need to change to be like us." Never mind that she shares in your love for the Lord and desires to serve Him as part of your church family or ministry group. Never mind the career, hobbies, or platforms that she may have in common with you- her identity becomes, "The Single Woman" who needs to be rescued from her single state so she can really fit in with everyone else.
4. It can get really, really awkward...or worse
If a woman is interested in the guy you're talking about (or, if listening to you portray him as a Knight in Shining Armor causes her to start falling for him), and things fall through, it can lead not only to heartache for her, but confused and broken relationships within a body. If he starts dating (or marries) somebody else, than she is left with feelings of bitterness and jealousy to deal with. If she has been entertaining romantic daydreams about him and he is the slightest bit friendly to her, she starts can quickly start to imagine that he is showing interest- and feel as though he "lead her on" when nothing comes of it. If she's not interested in him, ideally she should be able to just tell others, "Nah, that wouldn't work out," and be done...but does it ever work that way?? No, people need to know why she's not interested, and then need to try to convince her that she's wrong to not be interested in him. Newsflash: if she's not interested, she doesn't owe you an explanation.
And, sometimes, to be frank...trying to spark a woman's interest in a certain guy can be outright insulting. On more than one occasion, I have been pressured to like a guy with serious issues or character flaws because "I could help him," or even because "I'm being too picky." Really? REALLY?? Is singleness so horrible that I should "settle" for a guy who needs professional help before he can handle a relationship? Is it really too "picky" of me to want a guy who has his life together?
5. It's a distraction...to you.
Before I left for the mission field, I was shocked at how many people were hung up on their hopes that I was going to meet Mr. Right there. They were more interested in my love life than in the ministry I was taking part in overseas, the people I was ministering to, the people I was working with on the field, the intercultural experience I was having...sometimes, I wondered if these people were really praying for the requests that I sent out in my monthly newsletter, or if they just skimmed it for an engagement announcement and then deleted it when they didn't see one.
The Bible is full of commands for Christ-followers: Care for orphans and widows in their distress (James 1:27), to preach the gospel to all of creation (Mark 16:15), to love one another as Christ has loved us (John 13:34), to love the Lord with all our hearts, souls, and minds (Matthew 22:37). Notice the command that doesn't appear anywhere in the Bible: cure the disease of singleness! Urge your single sisters to think about any and every available guy!
Around the world, there are orphans living in deplorable conditions. There are single mothers struggling to do it all. There are people who do not have the Bible in their language or have never heard the name of Jesus. There is a God who is worthy of our wholehearted worship and devotion. And we feel the need to sit around teasing a single gal about the latest eligible bachelor on the block? If you want her to "feel accepted" by your church family, if you want her to be "as happy as you are," than gather together members of your ministry or church family- singles, marrieds, parents, youth, seniors- and ask God to show you how He would have you, as a body of believers, obey these commands.
My plea on behalf of single women to the rest of the Church: Let God write our love stories. If He wants us single- whether it be for now or our entire lives- nothing good can come out of interfering with His plan. If He does have someone out there for us, than nothing will stop Him from bringing us together in His perfect timing. In the meantime, encourage us to serve Him and walk with Him. Be the kind of friend that, if we think God may be bringing someone special into our lives, we can turn to for prayer, support and accountability. Or, when we get tired of waiting and wondering if we are ever going to meet someone, when we wonder if there's something wrong with us that makes us undesirable, when we're asking why God has answered everyone else's prayer for a spouse but seems to be ignoring us, be the kind of friend who will listen without giving unsolicited advice, who will pray with us, who will speak TRUTH into our lives, not make false promises that God has someone out there for everyone, or that He will fulfill every desire we have.
As a single woman desiring marriage and a family, I have to choose daily to remember that my lack of a relationship is not what defines me, that God is good and He is Sovereign, and that He is the only one who can be entrusted with my whole heart. Believe me, it's a battle that I must continuously fight.
Can I count on my brothers and sisters in Christ to fight with me?
Wednesday, April 9, 2014
The Physical and the Spiritual
Two Sundays ago while I was home for spring break, one particular line of sermon at church stood out to me: "When God sees us doubting, He doesn't say, 'you doubt Me?? Off with you; I won't deal with that!' Rather, in His mercy, He says, 'Bring your doubts to Me.'"
This was easy to accept as I heard it from my pastor. However, with the end of spring break and the return to school and student teaching, the truths I had heard on Sunday quickly took a backseat to the stress of every day life. By Friday afternoon, I arrived home with my brain spinning- I had an overwhelming amount of grading and planning to complete over the weekend, a job fair to prepare for, and my teacher's portfolio to complete. I was heart-heavy for some dear friends who were facing trials of their own. Looking past this one hectic weekend didn't offer much comfort- major tests and projects, the job search, setting up new living arrangements, and being a new teacher all loomed ahead of me. On top of everything, a migraine was quickly clamping down on my head.
I really wanted to climb into bed, but it was the first Friday of the month, which meant it was Graduate Christian Fellowship large group night- I only have two more months of grad school, so I didn't want to miss one of my possible last times with my friends. I decided to try and tough it out- in lieu of our normal Bible reading/prayer time, we had made plans to go out for fish fry and then to a local church that was hosting a night of worship (one of the guys in our group was on the worship team). I managed to enjoy dinner and the surrounding conversations despite the physical pain I was experiencing, and hoped that the time of worship would refocus my mind and heart.
We arrived at the church and the worship service started. The service was beautifully done- it was clear that a lot of preparation and prayer had gone into the evening. However, I soon realized that, even as I sang along with my hands lifted and my eyes closed, my heart was still spinning. Ugh, no- FOCUS!! This is a time of worship; stop thinking about other things!!! I tried to silence my brain and really feel the meaning behind the words of the songs, but my swirling thoughts- in combination with the intensifying migraine- were overpowering me. Now, I was beginning to feel angry with myself. Here I was, in the midst of a time of worship, and all I could think about were my own problems. Surely, God must be displeased with me right now. Great, just what I needed, to have God angry with me in the thick of graduate school...gaugh, graduate school. The edTPA is due in two weeks and I don't know when I'm going to have time to work on it, or how I'm going to find time to get my resume together and start filling out job applications- NO! This is worship time!! Focus on worship! Sheesh, God must not want anything to do with me at this point...and so the cycle wore on (on top of the migraine- by this point it was accompanied by nausea and becoming excruciating- I probably would have left if I hadn't carpooled to the church).
Partway through the night we divided into small groups for prayer. Our GCF group huddled together and a few of us shared things we wanted to pray about. As our staff leader prayed, he petitioned God to remind us that we are "His sons and daughters."
Suddenly, I was hit with an image in my mind of myself as a child, waking up in the middle of the night screaming after a nightmare or terrified by a thunderstorm. My dad was often the one to respond to my cries- and he never said, "You're afraid? You doubt that I can protect this house? You don't believe me when I said thunder can't hurt you? Chill out and come talk to me when you're ready to trust me!" No, my dad would, without hesitation, come sit with me on my bed and pray with me, grab a pillow and sleep on my bedroom floor so I could feel safer, or make me laugh by diving under my bed and beating up the monsters that I was convinced where hiding there.
"As a father has compassion on his children, so the Lord has compassion on those who fear Him; for He knows how we are formed, He remembers that we are dust." (Psalm 103:13-14) Just as my earthly father had compassion on me when I was overcome with fear and anxiety, my Heavenly Father would do the same. I didn't need to work through my fears on my own- I just needed to hand them over to Him. In that moment, emotionally and mentally, I felt relief like I hadn't felt in months...and, in the exact same moment, I felt something "click" in the back of my neck, and the migraine was instantly gone.
Give me all the scientific explanations you want, but I know in that moment, God was using the physical to demonstrate the spiritual. Just as He could remove a pounding headache, He could remove my burdens. Just as He can heal physical ailments, He could heal my anxiety.
I still don't know what the future holds...but I know Who holds it. When doubts start to creep in, I do not need to fight them alone- God is waiting for me to hand them over to Him. In the words of one of the final songs we sang that night:
This was easy to accept as I heard it from my pastor. However, with the end of spring break and the return to school and student teaching, the truths I had heard on Sunday quickly took a backseat to the stress of every day life. By Friday afternoon, I arrived home with my brain spinning- I had an overwhelming amount of grading and planning to complete over the weekend, a job fair to prepare for, and my teacher's portfolio to complete. I was heart-heavy for some dear friends who were facing trials of their own. Looking past this one hectic weekend didn't offer much comfort- major tests and projects, the job search, setting up new living arrangements, and being a new teacher all loomed ahead of me. On top of everything, a migraine was quickly clamping down on my head.
I really wanted to climb into bed, but it was the first Friday of the month, which meant it was Graduate Christian Fellowship large group night- I only have two more months of grad school, so I didn't want to miss one of my possible last times with my friends. I decided to try and tough it out- in lieu of our normal Bible reading/prayer time, we had made plans to go out for fish fry and then to a local church that was hosting a night of worship (one of the guys in our group was on the worship team). I managed to enjoy dinner and the surrounding conversations despite the physical pain I was experiencing, and hoped that the time of worship would refocus my mind and heart.
We arrived at the church and the worship service started. The service was beautifully done- it was clear that a lot of preparation and prayer had gone into the evening. However, I soon realized that, even as I sang along with my hands lifted and my eyes closed, my heart was still spinning. Ugh, no- FOCUS!! This is a time of worship; stop thinking about other things!!! I tried to silence my brain and really feel the meaning behind the words of the songs, but my swirling thoughts- in combination with the intensifying migraine- were overpowering me. Now, I was beginning to feel angry with myself. Here I was, in the midst of a time of worship, and all I could think about were my own problems. Surely, God must be displeased with me right now. Great, just what I needed, to have God angry with me in the thick of graduate school...gaugh, graduate school. The edTPA is due in two weeks and I don't know when I'm going to have time to work on it, or how I'm going to find time to get my resume together and start filling out job applications- NO! This is worship time!! Focus on worship! Sheesh, God must not want anything to do with me at this point...and so the cycle wore on (on top of the migraine- by this point it was accompanied by nausea and becoming excruciating- I probably would have left if I hadn't carpooled to the church).
Partway through the night we divided into small groups for prayer. Our GCF group huddled together and a few of us shared things we wanted to pray about. As our staff leader prayed, he petitioned God to remind us that we are "His sons and daughters."
Suddenly, I was hit with an image in my mind of myself as a child, waking up in the middle of the night screaming after a nightmare or terrified by a thunderstorm. My dad was often the one to respond to my cries- and he never said, "You're afraid? You doubt that I can protect this house? You don't believe me when I said thunder can't hurt you? Chill out and come talk to me when you're ready to trust me!" No, my dad would, without hesitation, come sit with me on my bed and pray with me, grab a pillow and sleep on my bedroom floor so I could feel safer, or make me laugh by diving under my bed and beating up the monsters that I was convinced where hiding there.
"As a father has compassion on his children, so the Lord has compassion on those who fear Him; for He knows how we are formed, He remembers that we are dust." (Psalm 103:13-14) Just as my earthly father had compassion on me when I was overcome with fear and anxiety, my Heavenly Father would do the same. I didn't need to work through my fears on my own- I just needed to hand them over to Him. In that moment, emotionally and mentally, I felt relief like I hadn't felt in months...and, in the exact same moment, I felt something "click" in the back of my neck, and the migraine was instantly gone.
Give me all the scientific explanations you want, but I know in that moment, God was using the physical to demonstrate the spiritual. Just as He could remove a pounding headache, He could remove my burdens. Just as He can heal physical ailments, He could heal my anxiety.
I still don't know what the future holds...but I know Who holds it. When doubts start to creep in, I do not need to fight them alone- God is waiting for me to hand them over to Him. In the words of one of the final songs we sang that night:
What could I say,
What could I do?
But offer this heart, O God,
Completely to You.
What could I do?
But offer this heart, O God,
Completely to You.
Tuesday, December 10, 2013
"Beautiful"
I hear your thoughts right now.
I see you looking at that magazine, at that false image of beauty, asking why you don’t look that way.
I hear you listing all the things that you believe are wrong with you, and planning all the things you want to do to change yourself, so that you can look like those images, so that you will be loved and adored.
I see you looking at that magazine, at that false image of beauty, asking why you don’t look that way.
I hear you listing all the things that you believe are wrong with you, and planning all the things you want to do to change yourself, so that you can look like those images, so that you will be loved and adored.
Come with Me for a moment, My daughter…
Step outside. Watch as the sun dips below the horizon and swirls the last of the day’s light across the sky. Look at the array of colors it leaves behind. I painted those colors.
Step outside. Watch as the sun dips below the horizon and swirls the last of the day’s light across the sky. Look at the array of colors it leaves behind. I painted those colors.
See the brilliance of
the stars, sparkling against the blackness of the night. Take in the intricate constellations, which
have captured the eyes and hearts of mankind for centuries. I placed those stars there, and I call each
one by name.
Look at the majesty of the mountain range. I sculpted that with My own hands. Now, look closely at a rose. I also sculpted it’s petals and arranged them
in their swirling formation, painted it in the perfect color, and gave it life
to bloom and bring forth it’s fragrance.
Gaze upon the ocean- see how perfectly every wave rises and
crests before crashing against the shore, reflecting the colors of the
sky. Go below its surface, and take in
the colors and shapes of the life below- the great coral reef and the colorful
fish dancing over it in perfect formation, the great blue whales and silver
dolphins breaking the surface with perfect grace. This is all My work, My creativity. No beautician, make-up artist, plastic surgeon,
personal trainer, or fashion designer could capture such beauty.
I had no inspiration,
no photograph or image to follow as I made this. My creation is a reflection of My own glory,
My own beauty. I am the One who sits
high and exalted on the throne, and the train of My robe fills the temple. The seraphim cover their feet and their faces
in My presence, calling out to one another, “Holy, Holy, Holy is the Lord God
Almighty! The whole Earth is filled with
His Glory!”
The whole Earth is filled with My Glory. My creation points back to My power, My
sovereignty, My perfect Holiness.
And you, My daughter, are a part of that creation.
The Earth was not complete without you. You were not a nice touch or finishing
decoration; you are the crown of My work.
You are the bearer of My image, a reflection of My perfect beauty.
And I am enthralled by your beauty. So much that, when you were enslaved by sin,
I left my throne to set you free. I laid
down My life to restore yours, so that the black stains of sin which marred your
beauty could be washed away.
The world tries to sell you it’s false beauty. Beauty that saps your strength as you strive
to obtain it, that always leaves you feeling like you need “just a bit more” to
be perfect.
But how can the world know what beauty really is without
knowing Me, when I AM Beauty itself?
What right does this world have to look upon you, made in My own image,
and tell you that you are not beautiful?
I, the Creator of the Universe, the Author of Life, the
Sustainer of all the lives and breathes, Artist of all things beautiful, I am
The One who designed you, who formed every fiber of your being, who breathed
life into you.
And I have called you Beautiful.
Friday, August 9, 2013
Worship: I'm not doing it right?
First off, let me give a disclaimer: in the past ten years I have been through numerous different churches and Bible studies in numerous contexts and cultures. I have experienced many different styles of worship, all lead by people who clearly love the Lord with all their hearts and want nothing more than to praise Him. I am so thankful for these people who allow God to use them to lead others before His throne in worship. I appreciate all the hard work you put in to using your musical gifts to honor The One who gave them to you.
That being said, if any of you who have lead me in worship over the past couple of years (or in the past 27 years!) happen to read this, please know that it isn't geared at any one of you. This is a trend I am seeing in more and more in contemporary church and worship settings, and it's something that I, too, bought into until just recently. And, I'm wondering if I'm even correct in thinking this way. So, please know that I am not pointing the finger at any worship pastors or worship leaders- I'm simply trying to get people thinking with me, and hoping that some kind of God-honoring conclusion can be drawn.
I grew up in a conservative church. Think pews in rows with hymnbook holders in the back of them, and an actual pulpit- not a podium that could easily be pulled on and off the stage as the worship team exited and the pastor prepared to preach his sermon. We didn't even have a "worship team" until I was in my early teens, just a piano and an organ. One weekend when I was in 6th grade, my best friend and I planned to have a sleepover Saturday night and go to her church on Sunday morning (she came from a denomination that was known for much more emotional worship), and a well-meaning person counseled me beforehand, "Don't lift your hands while worshiping; that shows that you're trying to draw attention to yourself instead of God." I mentioned my concern about "hand-raising" to my friend, and she reassured me that it was not mandated in her church...but she also pulled out her Bible and showed me plenty of verses that spoke of lifting our hands onto the Lord in worship. I was only beginning to take my faith seriously at age 12, but it was in that moment that I decided no one but God was allowed to tell me how to worship Him. If He wanted me to lift my hands, then, I would lift my hands. I remember raising my hands just a bit that Sunday morning in my friend's church and feeling incredibly awkward (even though everyone else was lifting their hands, too) but, hey, if God wanted my hands up, I'd put them up! Maybe there were times when it wasn't appropriate to lift my hands or worship expressively (such as at a Catholic mass, or even back at the conservative, traditional church that my parents attended), but, if I wasn't going to distract others from God, why should I worry about what they thought??
Six years later I had graduated high school and headed of to college. I found in our weekly Intervarsity large group meetings, our "Gazebo" nights (where students gathered at a gazebo in the center of campus for a time of worship), and the large, contemporary church I attended, it was much more the norm to lift your hands, get on your knees, or whatever else you felt like doing before the Lord. My relationship with God grew by leaps and bounds during my college years; He used many means to reveal Himself to me and draw me closer to Him, but one of the most prominent was discovering what it meant to truly worship Him with reckless abandon, and realize that all that I could give Him in worship was just a drop in the ocean of what He deserved.
And then, I started realizing something I was hearing and seeing in worship services: I have heard worship leaders telling church attendants, "If you're not excited about God right now, I don't know if you know God." I guess that's true; as you come to understand the character and the many attributes of a perfect God, it's impossible not to get excited. If worship leaders just left it there, I would agree wholeheartedly. But, many times over the years, I've heard that statement followed with, "You should be lifting your hands, jumping up and down, screaming these songs at the top of your lungs! You need to be excited about God!"
Uh...
I think back to that moment in 6th grade when I resolved that no one would tell me how to worship God. At that time, I was specifically thinking that no one would tell me I couldn't lift my hands or express myself in any way other than singing. How was that any different than people telling me I needed to be jumping up and down screaming during worship, that doing so proved my salvation or my maturity in my faith?
One thing I have come to realize does not honor God: trying to be something I'm not in order to please others. During my time on the mission field this past year, one thing that God was continually drilling into me was, "You're an introvert. I made you an introvert. Don't try to change that, just be who I made you to be." I think I had been hearing the "You need to be jumping around and screaming if you love Jesus!" line for many years, and I think I believed it- hey, I have an acting background and I was a cheerleader in high school; I can jump around and act excited. But, with the realization that introversion is part of my God given design came the other realization that I don't have to express myself in a way that is unnatural to me. There are some times when I feel like falling on my knees and lifting my hands as high as I can...but, usually, I don't. My heart can be fully fixed on God and on worshiping Him, but I don't feel the need to express myself outwardly by doing more than maybe lifting my hands or maybe kneeling...if anything at all. As far as the "screaming the words at the top of your lungs," I don't have a very loud singing voice. Trying to scream the songs at the top of my lungs will probably result in a sore throat and vocal-chord damage...but, I really don't think the volume of worship itself is what brings glory to God! If He can hear my innermost thoughts; I'm sure He can hear my soft singing voice just fine! I could pretend to be an extroverted, expressive worshiper...but I won't fool God. All I would be doing would be trying to appease others present, trying to prove that, yes, I am a born again Believer; yes, I am mature in my faith- see? I'll wave my hands in the air and scream until my throat hurts to prove it!! Meanwhile, God would probably be watching me, shaking His head and saying, "Are you trying to please Me, your Maker, or other men with your 'worship'? If it's the former, than be who I made you to be!!"
I'm not saying worship should always feel comfortable or natural. I'm not saying that coming before the throne of God shouldn't stir our hearts in wild and crazy ways. I'm definitely not saying that it's wrong to be an expressive worshiper who jumps up and down and screams out songs. What I have a problem with is being told that I need to worship a certain way, or my love for the Lord will be brought into question. I want to look at the worship leaders who say that and ask, "Are you worshiping right now, or are you watching me and critiquing my worship?" If we want others to worship God, shouldn't we be modeling by giving Him our wholehearted worship, instead of focusing on others and telling them they're doing it wrong?
Some of the most meaningful times of musical worship that I have experienced have begun with a Bible passage or a reflection that point to who God is- how Holy, Awesome, and Merciful He is. That He is worthy of all that we can give Him and so much more. That's when my heart can focus on Him, and nothing else matters- I forget if I'm tired, stressed, looking forward to something after the service, or worried about what someone else thinks of me. It becomes all about Him, and that's exactly what I want my worship to be about.
That being said, if any of you who have lead me in worship over the past couple of years (or in the past 27 years!) happen to read this, please know that it isn't geared at any one of you. This is a trend I am seeing in more and more in contemporary church and worship settings, and it's something that I, too, bought into until just recently. And, I'm wondering if I'm even correct in thinking this way. So, please know that I am not pointing the finger at any worship pastors or worship leaders- I'm simply trying to get people thinking with me, and hoping that some kind of God-honoring conclusion can be drawn.
I grew up in a conservative church. Think pews in rows with hymnbook holders in the back of them, and an actual pulpit- not a podium that could easily be pulled on and off the stage as the worship team exited and the pastor prepared to preach his sermon. We didn't even have a "worship team" until I was in my early teens, just a piano and an organ. One weekend when I was in 6th grade, my best friend and I planned to have a sleepover Saturday night and go to her church on Sunday morning (she came from a denomination that was known for much more emotional worship), and a well-meaning person counseled me beforehand, "Don't lift your hands while worshiping; that shows that you're trying to draw attention to yourself instead of God." I mentioned my concern about "hand-raising" to my friend, and she reassured me that it was not mandated in her church...but she also pulled out her Bible and showed me plenty of verses that spoke of lifting our hands onto the Lord in worship. I was only beginning to take my faith seriously at age 12, but it was in that moment that I decided no one but God was allowed to tell me how to worship Him. If He wanted me to lift my hands, then, I would lift my hands. I remember raising my hands just a bit that Sunday morning in my friend's church and feeling incredibly awkward (even though everyone else was lifting their hands, too) but, hey, if God wanted my hands up, I'd put them up! Maybe there were times when it wasn't appropriate to lift my hands or worship expressively (such as at a Catholic mass, or even back at the conservative, traditional church that my parents attended), but, if I wasn't going to distract others from God, why should I worry about what they thought??
Six years later I had graduated high school and headed of to college. I found in our weekly Intervarsity large group meetings, our "Gazebo" nights (where students gathered at a gazebo in the center of campus for a time of worship), and the large, contemporary church I attended, it was much more the norm to lift your hands, get on your knees, or whatever else you felt like doing before the Lord. My relationship with God grew by leaps and bounds during my college years; He used many means to reveal Himself to me and draw me closer to Him, but one of the most prominent was discovering what it meant to truly worship Him with reckless abandon, and realize that all that I could give Him in worship was just a drop in the ocean of what He deserved.
And then, I started realizing something I was hearing and seeing in worship services: I have heard worship leaders telling church attendants, "If you're not excited about God right now, I don't know if you know God." I guess that's true; as you come to understand the character and the many attributes of a perfect God, it's impossible not to get excited. If worship leaders just left it there, I would agree wholeheartedly. But, many times over the years, I've heard that statement followed with, "You should be lifting your hands, jumping up and down, screaming these songs at the top of your lungs! You need to be excited about God!"
Uh...
I think back to that moment in 6th grade when I resolved that no one would tell me how to worship God. At that time, I was specifically thinking that no one would tell me I couldn't lift my hands or express myself in any way other than singing. How was that any different than people telling me I needed to be jumping up and down screaming during worship, that doing so proved my salvation or my maturity in my faith?
One thing I have come to realize does not honor God: trying to be something I'm not in order to please others. During my time on the mission field this past year, one thing that God was continually drilling into me was, "You're an introvert. I made you an introvert. Don't try to change that, just be who I made you to be." I think I had been hearing the "You need to be jumping around and screaming if you love Jesus!" line for many years, and I think I believed it- hey, I have an acting background and I was a cheerleader in high school; I can jump around and act excited. But, with the realization that introversion is part of my God given design came the other realization that I don't have to express myself in a way that is unnatural to me. There are some times when I feel like falling on my knees and lifting my hands as high as I can...but, usually, I don't. My heart can be fully fixed on God and on worshiping Him, but I don't feel the need to express myself outwardly by doing more than maybe lifting my hands or maybe kneeling...if anything at all. As far as the "screaming the words at the top of your lungs," I don't have a very loud singing voice. Trying to scream the songs at the top of my lungs will probably result in a sore throat and vocal-chord damage...but, I really don't think the volume of worship itself is what brings glory to God! If He can hear my innermost thoughts; I'm sure He can hear my soft singing voice just fine! I could pretend to be an extroverted, expressive worshiper...but I won't fool God. All I would be doing would be trying to appease others present, trying to prove that, yes, I am a born again Believer; yes, I am mature in my faith- see? I'll wave my hands in the air and scream until my throat hurts to prove it!! Meanwhile, God would probably be watching me, shaking His head and saying, "Are you trying to please Me, your Maker, or other men with your 'worship'? If it's the former, than be who I made you to be!!"
I'm not saying worship should always feel comfortable or natural. I'm not saying that coming before the throne of God shouldn't stir our hearts in wild and crazy ways. I'm definitely not saying that it's wrong to be an expressive worshiper who jumps up and down and screams out songs. What I have a problem with is being told that I need to worship a certain way, or my love for the Lord will be brought into question. I want to look at the worship leaders who say that and ask, "Are you worshiping right now, or are you watching me and critiquing my worship?" If we want others to worship God, shouldn't we be modeling by giving Him our wholehearted worship, instead of focusing on others and telling them they're doing it wrong?
Some of the most meaningful times of musical worship that I have experienced have begun with a Bible passage or a reflection that point to who God is- how Holy, Awesome, and Merciful He is. That He is worthy of all that we can give Him and so much more. That's when my heart can focus on Him, and nothing else matters- I forget if I'm tired, stressed, looking forward to something after the service, or worried about what someone else thinks of me. It becomes all about Him, and that's exactly what I want my worship to be about.
Tuesday, June 25, 2013
As Long As It Takes...
This past week was sure to be emotionally charged, no matter what. After an amazing seven months on the mission field in Spain, I flew home, had one week with my family, my Wausau friends, and my church family, and then repacked up my life and headed off to Minneapolis to begin graduate school. There was no way to make a smooth transition as campus move-in day was on Saturday and classes began on Monday (and I don't mean one or two classes- this is an intensive program!).
During this time, God showed Grace to me in more ways than one, including the blessing of a new friend, (the daughter of a former coworker) who invited me to come to church with her on Sunday and then helped me with some post-move shopping. As Jess and I reflected on the sermon after church and discussed God's recent work in our lives, one thing she mentioned was the conviction that, during hard times, she needed to tell God, "Take as long as You need to to refine me and complete Your work in my life." (Not that God "needs" any amount of time- just trying to use human concepts that we can wrap our minds around!!) It is so easy in times of frustration or despair to cry out, "God, what are You trying to show me here?? Hurry up and teach it to me, and then get me out of this!!" I shared my agreement with what Jess was saying, but I didn't know how much I would be put to the test in the days that followed!
Monday came with hard news from home- myself and some of those closest to me were shocked and grieved. On Wednesday, I went to make a withdrawal at an ATM and discovered only $35 in my account, just days after receiving a large refund from my financial aid (which was supposed to last me the entire summer). I rushed home and checked my checking account online, discovering a long list of charges which were not mine. Of course the law is on my side, but it meant precious hours of study time spent on the phone with various companies, and not having access to my money for several days since I had to immediately cancel my check card. Then, yesterday, I climbed into my car (which my parents just gave to me last week to help me get through grad school and student teaching) to go pick up Jess for Bible study and found it wouldn't start. I just needed this car to last me one more year- was it really going to quit on me the first week of school, on top of everything else?? A phone call home to my dad and a bit of detective work revealed that the problem was a dead battery- fixable, but with no access to my own checking account and no knowledge of Minneapolis, how was I supposed to get it fixed? As I sat alone in my room last night trying to focus on some worship music, I remembered the conversation with Jess that I had a week before.
I wanted to know what God was doing. Was He trying to keep me dependent on my parents at age 27? Was He telling me that I shouldn't have gone to graduate school (after I prayed so hard for His will to be made clear to me, and U of MN was the only door that opened)? Why couldn't He just tell me what He wanted to and then let my life go back to normal?!
But He never promised me that trials would be quick or that His work in my life would be instant. It was time for me to look to Him and say, "Take as long as You choose to do Your work in my life, Lord. I trust You, and I will wait on You."
I'm not sure what God's purpose in all this is- to remind me to depend on Him even when I am independent of everyone else? To reinforce the importance of having my finances in order? To keep me from something more dangerous (a purchase I would have regretted or driving my car into danger?). But I know He has a purpose, and He will fulfill it. I know He is too good to fail me and too powerful for circumstances to interfere with His plan for my life. He is God, He is worthy of my praise and my trust, and He can take all the time He chooses to take to refine me and to glorify Himself in it all.
During this time, God showed Grace to me in more ways than one, including the blessing of a new friend, (the daughter of a former coworker) who invited me to come to church with her on Sunday and then helped me with some post-move shopping. As Jess and I reflected on the sermon after church and discussed God's recent work in our lives, one thing she mentioned was the conviction that, during hard times, she needed to tell God, "Take as long as You need to to refine me and complete Your work in my life." (Not that God "needs" any amount of time- just trying to use human concepts that we can wrap our minds around!!) It is so easy in times of frustration or despair to cry out, "God, what are You trying to show me here?? Hurry up and teach it to me, and then get me out of this!!" I shared my agreement with what Jess was saying, but I didn't know how much I would be put to the test in the days that followed!
Monday came with hard news from home- myself and some of those closest to me were shocked and grieved. On Wednesday, I went to make a withdrawal at an ATM and discovered only $35 in my account, just days after receiving a large refund from my financial aid (which was supposed to last me the entire summer). I rushed home and checked my checking account online, discovering a long list of charges which were not mine. Of course the law is on my side, but it meant precious hours of study time spent on the phone with various companies, and not having access to my money for several days since I had to immediately cancel my check card. Then, yesterday, I climbed into my car (which my parents just gave to me last week to help me get through grad school and student teaching) to go pick up Jess for Bible study and found it wouldn't start. I just needed this car to last me one more year- was it really going to quit on me the first week of school, on top of everything else?? A phone call home to my dad and a bit of detective work revealed that the problem was a dead battery- fixable, but with no access to my own checking account and no knowledge of Minneapolis, how was I supposed to get it fixed? As I sat alone in my room last night trying to focus on some worship music, I remembered the conversation with Jess that I had a week before.
I wanted to know what God was doing. Was He trying to keep me dependent on my parents at age 27? Was He telling me that I shouldn't have gone to graduate school (after I prayed so hard for His will to be made clear to me, and U of MN was the only door that opened)? Why couldn't He just tell me what He wanted to and then let my life go back to normal?!
But He never promised me that trials would be quick or that His work in my life would be instant. It was time for me to look to Him and say, "Take as long as You choose to do Your work in my life, Lord. I trust You, and I will wait on You."
I'm not sure what God's purpose in all this is- to remind me to depend on Him even when I am independent of everyone else? To reinforce the importance of having my finances in order? To keep me from something more dangerous (a purchase I would have regretted or driving my car into danger?). But I know He has a purpose, and He will fulfill it. I know He is too good to fail me and too powerful for circumstances to interfere with His plan for my life. He is God, He is worthy of my praise and my trust, and He can take all the time He chooses to take to refine me and to glorify Himself in it all.
Saturday, September 22, 2012
I Won't Be Wearing a "True Love Waits" Ring Anymore...
A few weeks ago I shared this article on my facebook page- to sum it up, this woman explains that she no longer practices abstinence because she is waiting for marriage- she practices abstinence because it's what God commanded her to do. If He chooses to give her a husband someday, great, if not, she will remain a virgin for as long as she lives.
My parents gave me a True Love Waits ring for Christmas when I was 14, but, unfortunately, it was a size 7 ring on my size 5 hand, so it eventually fell off and was lost forever. When I was in college, I purchased a replacement (in a size 5!) and I also purchased a second ring as a gift for my best friend, Heather. Heather had already met the man of her dreams, but, as an 18-year-old college freshman, marriage was still a ways off. She and her boyfriend had chosen to wait, and the ring was a perfect symbol of her commitment. She wore hers for the next five years until he replaced it with a wedding band. I had the privilege of being one of her bridesmaids and had the perfect view of their long-awaited wedding ceremony.
I continued to wear my own True Love Waits ring and believed what it meant- I was waiting for my future husband, just as Heather and many of my other friends had done. I graduated college, served in Americorps for a year, and raised support to go on the mission field- I'm now just waiting on my visa so I can go. I am 26 years old, and no prospect of marriage is in sight.
For Heather, perhaps a True Love Waits ring was the right choice- she knew that God had called her to the roll of a wife; she was just waiting for the day when they were officially united in marriage. But, after reading the above article, I began to question if a True Love Waits ring was really what I should be wearing.
I realized I shouldn't be "waiting" on marriage- because marriage is something that God never promised me. I sincerely hope that He will choose to give me a husband and biological children someday, but it's not about what I want. My life is Soli Deo Gloria- for the Glory of God Alone. As long as He is more glorified by keeping me single than by giving me a husband and children, I will remain single- even if it's for all my life. At any rate, right now, He hasn't called me to step into the role of a wife yet, like He has called Heather. He has called me to go on the mission field, and to do it as a single woman. As I said, I hope He will choose to give me a husband someday, but I'm not going to sit around "waiting" for it. Yesterday, I took off my True Love Waits ring for the first time in years.
I found a different ring to replace it. It has a Cross cut out of it with a white stone in the middle of it, and, on the other side the words "I am my Beloved's and He is mine, (Song of Solomon, 6:3)" are engraved.
In 1 Corinthians 6:20, we are reminded "You were bought with a price. Therefore, honor God with your body." On the Cross, Jesus paid the price for me and redeemed me by laying down His life. I am a virgin because my Beloved Savior paid the price for me to be His, and He is the one who has commanded me to stay pure. I am His...and He is mine. He is the one who fulfills me and completes me in a way that no earthly relationship ever could. Contrary to many of society's messages, I do NOT need a husband to be satisfied, and no husband ever could satisfy me- that's something that only my Creator can do.
If God does choose to give me a husband someday, I look forward to experiencing all the blessings that come with a God-centered marriage. But, as long as He chooses to keep me single- even if He keeps me single all my life- I will delight in Him, I will place my hope in the things that He has promised me, and I will remain sexually pure, because I am my Beloved's and He is mine.
My parents gave me a True Love Waits ring for Christmas when I was 14, but, unfortunately, it was a size 7 ring on my size 5 hand, so it eventually fell off and was lost forever. When I was in college, I purchased a replacement (in a size 5!) and I also purchased a second ring as a gift for my best friend, Heather. Heather had already met the man of her dreams, but, as an 18-year-old college freshman, marriage was still a ways off. She and her boyfriend had chosen to wait, and the ring was a perfect symbol of her commitment. She wore hers for the next five years until he replaced it with a wedding band. I had the privilege of being one of her bridesmaids and had the perfect view of their long-awaited wedding ceremony.
I continued to wear my own True Love Waits ring and believed what it meant- I was waiting for my future husband, just as Heather and many of my other friends had done. I graduated college, served in Americorps for a year, and raised support to go on the mission field- I'm now just waiting on my visa so I can go. I am 26 years old, and no prospect of marriage is in sight.
For Heather, perhaps a True Love Waits ring was the right choice- she knew that God had called her to the roll of a wife; she was just waiting for the day when they were officially united in marriage. But, after reading the above article, I began to question if a True Love Waits ring was really what I should be wearing.
I realized I shouldn't be "waiting" on marriage- because marriage is something that God never promised me. I sincerely hope that He will choose to give me a husband and biological children someday, but it's not about what I want. My life is Soli Deo Gloria- for the Glory of God Alone. As long as He is more glorified by keeping me single than by giving me a husband and children, I will remain single- even if it's for all my life. At any rate, right now, He hasn't called me to step into the role of a wife yet, like He has called Heather. He has called me to go on the mission field, and to do it as a single woman. As I said, I hope He will choose to give me a husband someday, but I'm not going to sit around "waiting" for it. Yesterday, I took off my True Love Waits ring for the first time in years.
I found a different ring to replace it. It has a Cross cut out of it with a white stone in the middle of it, and, on the other side the words "I am my Beloved's and He is mine, (Song of Solomon, 6:3)" are engraved.
In 1 Corinthians 6:20, we are reminded "You were bought with a price. Therefore, honor God with your body." On the Cross, Jesus paid the price for me and redeemed me by laying down His life. I am a virgin because my Beloved Savior paid the price for me to be His, and He is the one who has commanded me to stay pure. I am His...and He is mine. He is the one who fulfills me and completes me in a way that no earthly relationship ever could. Contrary to many of society's messages, I do NOT need a husband to be satisfied, and no husband ever could satisfy me- that's something that only my Creator can do.
If God does choose to give me a husband someday, I look forward to experiencing all the blessings that come with a God-centered marriage. But, as long as He chooses to keep me single- even if He keeps me single all my life- I will delight in Him, I will place my hope in the things that He has promised me, and I will remain sexually pure, because I am my Beloved's and He is mine.
Wednesday, February 29, 2012
Facebook Fast- Day 7
According to Lent Tradition, I'm allowed to take a break from fasting on Sunday, but I didn't want Sunday to turn into a wasted-day of facebooking. I decided to set a timer for 10 minutes and check facebook just to get rid of all those annoying red boxes at the top of the screen and to make sure no one had sent me any vital information. Well, after about 5 minutes, all the red boxes were gone and I had nothing left to do- I finally just logged out after 7 minutes. What does that say about facebook? I don't need to be on it all day to communicate with friends or know what's going on in their lives- it really is more of a reality escape than I thought.
Monday was a full day with the Everest staff Bible study after school and then going to the Y to workout. Tuesday was a bit less busy, and today was a snow day (which meant midweek Bible study and church was also canceled) so I had the whole day to do stuff other than facebook. I actually sat down and did my Beth Moore studies one day at a time, instead of cramming them all in on Tuesday evening or Wednesday afternoon- I enjoy them so much more when I'm doing them one at a time, and the lessons have so much more time to sink in. I know, I know...duhhhhhh. You'd think that after years of Sunday school lessons and enough schoolwork to earn a BA, I'd have that one figured out by now.
I had a convicting moment on Monday- the student that I normally work with during the afternoon was out sick, so I went to check on another student in the EBD program. The teacher had just called the class to come sit on the floor in the front of the room for an activity, and he quickly sat by a friend who tends to help him get into trouble. I asked him if he thought it was smart to sit there and he said "We can listen, I promise." I told him that was fine, but he wasn't getting any warnings- one time goofing off with his friend and he was moving (using much more positive "teacher-talk," of course). Of course, two minutes in, he's yammering away (loudly) with his friend, and tapped him and whispered, "Come over by me." He "whispered" (loud enough to disrupt the whole class) back, "I'M NOT DOING NOTHING!" in a sharp, whiney tone. I reached over and took his point sheet and dinged him for being disrespectful. Once the activity was over, he came up to me and said that he hadn't "done anything" and I was "getting him into trouble."
"[Name], why did I take points off on your point sheet?" I asked him.
"Because you want to get me in trouble!" he said.
"[Name], do you think that I can't hear you talking to [classmate] when you're supposed to be listening to the teacher?" I asked him.
"I was just telling him that you're always getting me in trouble!!"
Okaaaay, so we were all sitting on the floor listening to the teacher and it was suddenly so urgent for you to tell your friend that I was "getting you in trouble" (by just sitting there near you) that you needed to disrupt your teacher's lesson?
"I didn't ask you what you were talking to your classmate about; I told you that you needed to move, and you refused and talked back to me. That's why you lost points- if you had just moved when I asked, everything would have been fine. But you chose to be disrespectful, and the rule is that you loose points when you're disrespectful."
"No, I always get into trouble because of you!"
Note: I only check on this kid when my regularly assigned student is absent. He's in trouble a lot more often than she is absent. Apparently I get him in trouble on those days, too?
"*sighs* [Name], the sooner you stop blaming other people and start taking responsibility for what you do, the easier your life will be."
(Idk if a third grader could take that in, but what else do you say?!)
That evening I went to Bible study with my coworkers, where we are studying the book of Ruth. The lesson covered the verses where Naomi encourages her two widowed daughter-in-laws to return to their homeland, saying that "The Lord has dealt bitterly with me." Naomi doesn't seem to remember how, before suffering came upon her and her family, she left the land that God had given to her people, went to live for several years in the land that God called "His washbasin," where immorality and idolatry were rampant, and allowed her sons to intermarry with foreign women. Now, she is encouraging her daughter-in-laws to return to their false gods and human sacrifices, rather than come with her and serve her God. And, all the suffering she has faced is soley because God is being mean to her, right?
Granted, Naomi is grieving the loss of her husband and sons, and is unsure of the future- as a woman in Old Testament times, she wouldn't have had any means of providing for herself. In such a dark time, it's easy to be ruled by emotions and say things we don't mean. Even so, Naomi's reaction toward God reminded me of my student's reaction to me- this is YOUR fault, YOU'RE causing all this trouble in my life, and I'm just your victim!
Having been born under a church pew, I'd have to be pretty overwhelmed with emotion before I would consciously blame God for my problems, but how often do I do it in a more subtle way- asking God why He isn't providing for me when I've been careless with money, why I'm so stressed out when I've done nothing but facebook all day, why I'm not healthy when I haven't taken care of myself, why I'm so tired when I've been up all night doing nothing productive. Hmmm...
Monday was a full day with the Everest staff Bible study after school and then going to the Y to workout. Tuesday was a bit less busy, and today was a snow day (which meant midweek Bible study and church was also canceled) so I had the whole day to do stuff other than facebook. I actually sat down and did my Beth Moore studies one day at a time, instead of cramming them all in on Tuesday evening or Wednesday afternoon- I enjoy them so much more when I'm doing them one at a time, and the lessons have so much more time to sink in. I know, I know...duhhhhhh. You'd think that after years of Sunday school lessons and enough schoolwork to earn a BA, I'd have that one figured out by now.
I had a convicting moment on Monday- the student that I normally work with during the afternoon was out sick, so I went to check on another student in the EBD program. The teacher had just called the class to come sit on the floor in the front of the room for an activity, and he quickly sat by a friend who tends to help him get into trouble. I asked him if he thought it was smart to sit there and he said "We can listen, I promise." I told him that was fine, but he wasn't getting any warnings- one time goofing off with his friend and he was moving (using much more positive "teacher-talk," of course). Of course, two minutes in, he's yammering away (loudly) with his friend, and tapped him and whispered, "Come over by me." He "whispered" (loud enough to disrupt the whole class) back, "I'M NOT DOING NOTHING!" in a sharp, whiney tone. I reached over and took his point sheet and dinged him for being disrespectful. Once the activity was over, he came up to me and said that he hadn't "done anything" and I was "getting him into trouble."
"[Name], why did I take points off on your point sheet?" I asked him.
"Because you want to get me in trouble!" he said.
"[Name], do you think that I can't hear you talking to [classmate] when you're supposed to be listening to the teacher?" I asked him.
"I was just telling him that you're always getting me in trouble!!"
Okaaaay, so we were all sitting on the floor listening to the teacher and it was suddenly so urgent for you to tell your friend that I was "getting you in trouble" (by just sitting there near you) that you needed to disrupt your teacher's lesson?
"I didn't ask you what you were talking to your classmate about; I told you that you needed to move, and you refused and talked back to me. That's why you lost points- if you had just moved when I asked, everything would have been fine. But you chose to be disrespectful, and the rule is that you loose points when you're disrespectful."
"No, I always get into trouble because of you!"
Note: I only check on this kid when my regularly assigned student is absent. He's in trouble a lot more often than she is absent. Apparently I get him in trouble on those days, too?
"*sighs* [Name], the sooner you stop blaming other people and start taking responsibility for what you do, the easier your life will be."
(Idk if a third grader could take that in, but what else do you say?!)
That evening I went to Bible study with my coworkers, where we are studying the book of Ruth. The lesson covered the verses where Naomi encourages her two widowed daughter-in-laws to return to their homeland, saying that "The Lord has dealt bitterly with me." Naomi doesn't seem to remember how, before suffering came upon her and her family, she left the land that God had given to her people, went to live for several years in the land that God called "His washbasin," where immorality and idolatry were rampant, and allowed her sons to intermarry with foreign women. Now, she is encouraging her daughter-in-laws to return to their false gods and human sacrifices, rather than come with her and serve her God. And, all the suffering she has faced is soley because God is being mean to her, right?
Granted, Naomi is grieving the loss of her husband and sons, and is unsure of the future- as a woman in Old Testament times, she wouldn't have had any means of providing for herself. In such a dark time, it's easy to be ruled by emotions and say things we don't mean. Even so, Naomi's reaction toward God reminded me of my student's reaction to me- this is YOUR fault, YOU'RE causing all this trouble in my life, and I'm just your victim!
Having been born under a church pew, I'd have to be pretty overwhelmed with emotion before I would consciously blame God for my problems, but how often do I do it in a more subtle way- asking God why He isn't providing for me when I've been careless with money, why I'm so stressed out when I've done nothing but facebook all day, why I'm not healthy when I haven't taken care of myself, why I'm so tired when I've been up all night doing nothing productive. Hmmm...
Friday, February 24, 2012
Facebook Fast- From Tuesday Until Now (Day 3)
Tuesday- "Fat Tuesday"- Frantically try to figure out who's birthday's I'm going to miss and message them to let them know I'll be thinking of them on their birthday. Stalk friends one last time. Update my facebook picture and status to let people know not to attempt to communicate with me via facebook- use email or cell phone (or, hey, maybe even face-to-face communcation!) instead! Yeah, it's only 40 days- I went the first 19 years of my life without facebook; I can handle 40 days.
Wednesday- Get up, go to work, after work kill some time at Target while I wait for my coworkers to get done so we can have prayer meeting, run into Kari and baby Cael at Target, vent about how expensive clothes are with Kari, watch Cael while Kari tries on a few outfits and give her my opinions (hey, no fair, reasonably priced stuff looks good on her!), rush back to school for prayer meeting with coworkers, rush home and change out of work clothes and grab Bible and book, go to restaurant to meet Maria, have lovely dinner and conversation, go with Maria to Bible study, enjoy an amazing lesson from Beth Moore (and Lynn and Leslie!) come home, crash. Facebook?! Psssshhhh...
Thursday- Come home from work after a rough day. Want to check facebook but resist...am tired, anyway. Get a call from NTC that they might have an adjunct faculty position for me- want to be excited, but, after all the job-disappointments I've had lately, I'm hesitant to get my hopes up until everything is set in stone. Fall asleep for a bit. Dad wakes me up and says we're going to Culver's for dinner. Brush hair and fix makeup quick, and go out with family. Come home, eat Culver's ice cream and watch TV with Dad for a bit. Take shower, get ready for bed, try to work on Beth Moore study but don't get very far because I'm tired. Go to sleep.
Friday- Stop to fill car with gas on way home from work, practically have a heart attack when I see what gas prices are. Worrying that if they keep going up, I'm not going to be able to afford to drive to work anymore- and there's no other way for me to get to work except by my own car. *sigh* Drive the rest of the way home feeling stressed out- come home and find door locked, even though dad and brother are home. Normally a mild annoyance, but that means I have to dig for the house-key while carrying my purse, workout bag (even though I didn't make it to the gym after work), heavy bag of winter clothes for recess duty, and full nalgene bottle. Finally get in and try to kindly ask my dad to leave the door unlocked when it's broad daylight and he's right there in the house, but I can tell he senses I'm stressed out and feels guilty, and then I feel guilty for making him feel guilty. I make myself a cup of tea and try to enjoy a little conversation with my dad, but my emotions are too close to the surface today- it's physiological factors that are causing this, but I find myself really, really wanting to go on facebook for some reason. Urgh. Did I give up a social networking site for Lent, or a narcotic?!
Go to my room and check email and every other thing I normally check online besides facebook. There's some jobs I want to apply to (seems like the hours would work even if I'm teaching at NTC part time) and I need to tweak my presentation for church on Sunday- that should keep me busy. I stop to eat dinner with my family, then come back to the computer and get to work. I'm not really concentrating- I keep wanting to go to pinterest, modeling websites, youtube...grrrrr, this is NOT why I gave up facebook! Feeling the urge to go on it is supposed to drive me to God, not alternative websites. And I don't see myself being any better of a steward of my time than I was before giving up facebook. I just realized it's after midnight and I still have barely done anything today, including reading my Bible. Maybe this is why Jesus fasted for forty days and not 48 hours...it takes a while just to get over whatever you're fasting from. At least I hope that's what's going on; otherwise this is going to be a really wasted Lent.
Wednesday- Get up, go to work, after work kill some time at Target while I wait for my coworkers to get done so we can have prayer meeting, run into Kari and baby Cael at Target, vent about how expensive clothes are with Kari, watch Cael while Kari tries on a few outfits and give her my opinions (hey, no fair, reasonably priced stuff looks good on her!), rush back to school for prayer meeting with coworkers, rush home and change out of work clothes and grab Bible and book, go to restaurant to meet Maria, have lovely dinner and conversation, go with Maria to Bible study, enjoy an amazing lesson from Beth Moore (and Lynn and Leslie!) come home, crash. Facebook?! Psssshhhh...
Thursday- Come home from work after a rough day. Want to check facebook but resist...am tired, anyway. Get a call from NTC that they might have an adjunct faculty position for me- want to be excited, but, after all the job-disappointments I've had lately, I'm hesitant to get my hopes up until everything is set in stone. Fall asleep for a bit. Dad wakes me up and says we're going to Culver's for dinner. Brush hair and fix makeup quick, and go out with family. Come home, eat Culver's ice cream and watch TV with Dad for a bit. Take shower, get ready for bed, try to work on Beth Moore study but don't get very far because I'm tired. Go to sleep.
Friday- Stop to fill car with gas on way home from work, practically have a heart attack when I see what gas prices are. Worrying that if they keep going up, I'm not going to be able to afford to drive to work anymore- and there's no other way for me to get to work except by my own car. *sigh* Drive the rest of the way home feeling stressed out- come home and find door locked, even though dad and brother are home. Normally a mild annoyance, but that means I have to dig for the house-key while carrying my purse, workout bag (even though I didn't make it to the gym after work), heavy bag of winter clothes for recess duty, and full nalgene bottle. Finally get in and try to kindly ask my dad to leave the door unlocked when it's broad daylight and he's right there in the house, but I can tell he senses I'm stressed out and feels guilty, and then I feel guilty for making him feel guilty. I make myself a cup of tea and try to enjoy a little conversation with my dad, but my emotions are too close to the surface today- it's physiological factors that are causing this, but I find myself really, really wanting to go on facebook for some reason. Urgh. Did I give up a social networking site for Lent, or a narcotic?!
Go to my room and check email and every other thing I normally check online besides facebook. There's some jobs I want to apply to (seems like the hours would work even if I'm teaching at NTC part time) and I need to tweak my presentation for church on Sunday- that should keep me busy. I stop to eat dinner with my family, then come back to the computer and get to work. I'm not really concentrating- I keep wanting to go to pinterest, modeling websites, youtube...grrrrr, this is NOT why I gave up facebook! Feeling the urge to go on it is supposed to drive me to God, not alternative websites. And I don't see myself being any better of a steward of my time than I was before giving up facebook. I just realized it's after midnight and I still have barely done anything today, including reading my Bible. Maybe this is why Jesus fasted for forty days and not 48 hours...it takes a while just to get over whatever you're fasting from. At least I hope that's what's going on; otherwise this is going to be a really wasted Lent.
Tuesday, January 3, 2012
After-Christmas Thoughts...
Throughout this past Christmas season, my heart was repeatedly drawn to Luke 1:26-56, where Mary first learns that she is to be the mother of the Messiah. For someone who was born under a church pew and can't remember ever not attending Sunday school (like myself), it's easy to mentally categorize people in the Bible into "bad people" (Queen Jezebel, King Saul, etc.) and "good people" (Abraham, Paul, and, of course, Mary and Joseph).
When Gabriel first tells Mary that she is to be the mother of Jesus (and clarifies a few confusing details for her!) her response is, "Behold, the maidservant of the Lord. May it be to me as you have said," (vs. 38). Having heard the Christmas story over and over since I was about two, it's easy for me to think, "Of course that's what she said; Mary was one of the 'good people' in the Bible!" But, then, it's easy to brush aside some of the details I've learned as a teenager/adult, like:
“My soul glorifies the Lord
47 and my spirit rejoices in God my Savior,
48 for he has been mindful
of the humble state of his servant.
From now on all generations will call me blessed,
49 for the Mighty One has done great things for me—
holy is his name.
50 His mercy extends to those who fear him,
from generation to generation.
51 He has performed mighty deeds with his arm;
he has scattered those who are proud in their inmost thoughts.
52 He has brought down rulers from their thrones
but has lifted up the humble.
53 He has filled the hungry with good things
but has sent the rich away empty.
54 He has helped his servant Israel,
remembering to be merciful
55 to Abraham and his descendants forever,
just as he promised our ancestors.”
I picture myself at age 13 or 14- in middle school, involved in my church youth group and school Bible club, but if God had called me to risk my life, my reputation, and my entire future, would I not only have said yes, but sang a song of praise to Him?
As most of you know, God has called me to (temporarily, at least,) lay down my own goals and dreams and go serve Him in Spain. Even my friends and family who don't share in my faith are excited for me. If I don't make a career out of missions, then having lived abroad and had my own classroom will look great on my grad school applications and resumes. Sometimes (well, most of the time!) the stress of support-raising and other details seem overwhelming, but I can hardly say that what God has asked of me holds a candle to what He asked of Mary 2,000 years ago...and, although I don't know what my future holds, I can't forsee anything that God would call me to having the same magnitude of what Mary was called to do. As I begin a new year, with my departure date for Spain coming closer and an uncertain future ahead of me, it is my prayer that, whatever God asks of me, I may have the same unhindered, joyful response as Mary in Luke 1.
"Behold, the maidservant of the Lord."
When Gabriel first tells Mary that she is to be the mother of Jesus (and clarifies a few confusing details for her!) her response is, "Behold, the maidservant of the Lord. May it be to me as you have said," (vs. 38). Having heard the Christmas story over and over since I was about two, it's easy for me to think, "Of course that's what she said; Mary was one of the 'good people' in the Bible!" But, then, it's easy to brush aside some of the details I've learned as a teenager/adult, like:
- Mary may have been as young as 14 when she gave birth to Jesus. She might have even been 13 when the angel came to her.
- She was engaged but not married. In her time and culture, having a baby out of wedlock (especially a baby that wasn't her fiancee's) wouldn't just mean nasty talk behind her back; it could mean death by stoning.
- That even if Joseph had broken off their engagement "quietly" as he planned to in order to spare her from public disgrace, her life still might have fallen apart- she couldn't simply go out and get a job or apply for government assistance in order to support herself and her child.
- The tremendous responsibility that fell upon her- as I've watched several of my friends become moms for the first time (or second, third, or fourth time!) the all seem to ask the same questions: "Can I handle this?" "Will I be a good mom?" "What if I don't raise this child right?" How many times would these concerns be amplified to an unmarried teenager responsible for raising the Son of God, who was to save His people from their sins?
“My soul glorifies the Lord
47 and my spirit rejoices in God my Savior,
48 for he has been mindful
of the humble state of his servant.
From now on all generations will call me blessed,
49 for the Mighty One has done great things for me—
holy is his name.
50 His mercy extends to those who fear him,
from generation to generation.
51 He has performed mighty deeds with his arm;
he has scattered those who are proud in their inmost thoughts.
52 He has brought down rulers from their thrones
but has lifted up the humble.
53 He has filled the hungry with good things
but has sent the rich away empty.
54 He has helped his servant Israel,
remembering to be merciful
55 to Abraham and his descendants forever,
just as he promised our ancestors.”
I picture myself at age 13 or 14- in middle school, involved in my church youth group and school Bible club, but if God had called me to risk my life, my reputation, and my entire future, would I not only have said yes, but sang a song of praise to Him?
As most of you know, God has called me to (temporarily, at least,) lay down my own goals and dreams and go serve Him in Spain. Even my friends and family who don't share in my faith are excited for me. If I don't make a career out of missions, then having lived abroad and had my own classroom will look great on my grad school applications and resumes. Sometimes (well, most of the time!) the stress of support-raising and other details seem overwhelming, but I can hardly say that what God has asked of me holds a candle to what He asked of Mary 2,000 years ago...and, although I don't know what my future holds, I can't forsee anything that God would call me to having the same magnitude of what Mary was called to do. As I begin a new year, with my departure date for Spain coming closer and an uncertain future ahead of me, it is my prayer that, whatever God asks of me, I may have the same unhindered, joyful response as Mary in Luke 1.
"Behold, the maidservant of the Lord."
Friday, December 9, 2011
50 Things to do Before I'm 30 (Inspired by Kayleigh!)
(Okay, so Kayleigh did a list of 100 things to do before she's 30- but she's a year younger than me, AND I don't know how much of this I'll be able to accomplish while I'm on the mission field, so I wasn't quite as ambitious as she was!! Let's see if I can get all these things done before April 21st, 2016!)
1. Do a triathalon
2. Memorize a book of the Bible (as least 4 chapters!)
3. Memorize Psalm 139 in Spanish
4. Earn either Wisconsin DPI Teacher Certification or my Master's Degree (if not both!) (May 15, 2015)
5. Be debt-free
6. Read 200 Books
7. Run a marathon
8. Learn how to knit and make something useful*
9. Read the entire Chronicles of Narnia series in Spanish (already read it in English, don't worry!)
10. Pray for every country in the world (July 21, 2014)
11. Donate blood
12. Compete in a national/international pageant or modeling competition (July 27, 2013- Miss International)
13. Finish my novel
14. Earn a $1,000.00 check from my Amway business
15. Go to Disney World
16. Fill an entire journal without tearing any pages out*
17. Meet my Spanish penpal (Check!)
18. Dress up as a lobster for Halloween (this has been a dream of mine since I was about 11) Halloween 2013!!
19. Write lyrics for ten songs and actually share them (not just keep them in my private journal!)
20. Sew a skirt
21. Learn how to play my guitar
22. Go back to Puebla (June 22, 2015- just drove through it,but it still counts!)
23. Go vegan for a month (Feb 10, 2014- Mar 10, 2014)
24. Follow through on my promise to Kayleigh to take her to the Rainforest Cafe
25. Learn American Sign Language
26. See "Michigan Katie" (Katie R.) face-to-face
27. Watch the Miss America pageant live in Vegas
28. See a live production of "Phantom of the Opera"
29. See all of the Lord of the Rings movies
30. Move ALL of my stuff out of my parents' house
31. Sponsor a Compassion Child again (Dec 30th, 2013- Lidia from El Salvador!)
32. Take a vacation with my girlfriends (overnight, outside of Wausau!) (July 2014- Winnepeg with Camille and Jeesoo!)
33. Learn how to ski or snowboard
34. Take my cousin, Mandy, on a fun trip somewhere to thank her for all the times she's let me crash with her (and carted me around) to modeling gigs in Milwaukee!
35. See a live Packer or Badger game
36. Have $2,500.00 in savings
37. Go a year without drinking soda*
38. Support a missionary at $50.00 a month for 12 months*
39. Be able to have a conversation in French with a native speaker
40. Run a 5K in under 20 minutes
41. Write a children's book and begin the publishing process
42. Become licensed as a Wisconsin foster parent (hopefully I'll be ready for my first placement, but we'll make getting the license my first goal!)
43. Make a vlog channel (Started Jan 21, 2012)
44. See my old roomie, Katie T, face-to-face...regardless of which side of the border we have to do it on! (June 22, 2015)
45. Go to a concert with Heather K, and NOT get snowed out this time!
46. Have my hair cut/highlighted and my nails done by a professional (I take pride in my DIY skills, but this would represent having the financial stability to have a pro do it!)
47. Take a picture with Miss America (had the chance with Caressa Cameron and chickened out- was mad at myself afterwards. I know for a fact that that crown will NOT go on a fan-snubber's head!)
48. Go on a two-day water-only fast (for prayer, not a crash diet!) (Check!)
49. Go to Central or South America
50. Be an actual teacher- have my OWN classroom and students! (May 24, 2012, started teaching at Northcentral Technical College)
*=In progress
1. Do a triathalon
2. Memorize a book of the Bible (as least 4 chapters!)
3. Memorize Psalm 139 in Spanish
4. Earn either Wisconsin DPI Teacher Certification or my Master's Degree (if not both!) (May 15, 2015)
5. Be debt-free
6. Read 200 Books
7. Run a marathon
8. Learn how to knit and make something useful*
9. Read the entire Chronicles of Narnia series in Spanish (already read it in English, don't worry!)
10. Pray for every country in the world (July 21, 2014)
11. Donate blood
12. Compete in a national/international pageant or modeling competition (July 27, 2013- Miss International)
13. Finish my novel
14. Earn a $1,000.00 check from my Amway business
15. Go to Disney World
16. Fill an entire journal without tearing any pages out*
17. Meet my Spanish penpal (Check!)
18. Dress up as a lobster for Halloween (this has been a dream of mine since I was about 11) Halloween 2013!!
19. Write lyrics for ten songs and actually share them (not just keep them in my private journal!)
20. Sew a skirt
21. Learn how to play my guitar
22. Go back to Puebla (June 22, 2015- just drove through it,but it still counts!)
23. Go vegan for a month (Feb 10, 2014- Mar 10, 2014)
24. Follow through on my promise to Kayleigh to take her to the Rainforest Cafe
25. Learn American Sign Language
26. See "Michigan Katie" (Katie R.) face-to-face
27. Watch the Miss America pageant live in Vegas
28. See a live production of "Phantom of the Opera"
29. See all of the Lord of the Rings movies
30. Move ALL of my stuff out of my parents' house
31. Sponsor a Compassion Child again (Dec 30th, 2013- Lidia from El Salvador!)
32. Take a vacation with my girlfriends (overnight, outside of Wausau!) (July 2014- Winnepeg with Camille and Jeesoo!)
33. Learn how to ski or snowboard
34. Take my cousin, Mandy, on a fun trip somewhere to thank her for all the times she's let me crash with her (and carted me around) to modeling gigs in Milwaukee!
35. See a live Packer or Badger game
36. Have $2,500.00 in savings
37. Go a year without drinking soda*
38. Support a missionary at $50.00 a month for 12 months*
39. Be able to have a conversation in French with a native speaker
40. Run a 5K in under 20 minutes
41. Write a children's book and begin the publishing process
42. Become licensed as a Wisconsin foster parent (hopefully I'll be ready for my first placement, but we'll make getting the license my first goal!)
43. Make a vlog channel (Started Jan 21, 2012)
44. See my old roomie, Katie T, face-to-face...regardless of which side of the border we have to do it on! (June 22, 2015)
45. Go to a concert with Heather K, and NOT get snowed out this time!
46. Have my hair cut/highlighted and my nails done by a professional (I take pride in my DIY skills, but this would represent having the financial stability to have a pro do it!)
47. Take a picture with Miss America (had the chance with Caressa Cameron and chickened out- was mad at myself afterwards. I know for a fact that that crown will NOT go on a fan-snubber's head!)
48. Go on a two-day water-only fast (for prayer, not a crash diet!) (Check!)
49. Go to Central or South America
50. Be an actual teacher- have my OWN classroom and students! (May 24, 2012, started teaching at Northcentral Technical College)
*=In progress
Sunday, October 2, 2011
Reach Out Wausau Reflection: "Hablo Espanol"
When my church first started preparing for "Reach Out Wausau," a free clinic offering medical care, eye exams, a hot meal, free clothing, and various other services to the Wausau community, I was excited for my churchmates, but didn't pay much attention since I thought I'd be in Spain by then. Well, once I realized I would still be in Wausau on October 1st (the day of the clinic), I started thinking about signing up to be an "advocate" (a volunteer who would stay with an assigned family at the clinic and guide them to whatever services they needed). Several weeks before the clinic, Adam, the husband of one of the clinic-coordinators, urged me to sign up as a bilingual advocate. "A church in another community that didn't even think they had a Hispanic population did a clinic like this, and the people they served ended up being about 70% Hispanic," he told me.
Okay, Wausau definitely has a Hispanic population- that's why I had the job that I did at Kiefer last year. But..."I don't know if I'm really qualified to do it in Spanish," I told him. "I worked with little kids who spoke Spanish this past year (under the supervision of a teacher who speaks Spanish at a nearly-native level), but we're talking medical or deeply spiritual lingo, here."
"Well, I can tell you right now that, no matter how deep the language gets, a Spanish-speaker would be a lot better off with you than they would be with me, or most of the other people in our congregation," Adam pointed out.
Well, yeah, good point...so, I signed my name on the advocate sign-up sheet, and put "Bilingual- English/Spanish" immediately after it. I walked away wondering what I had just gotten myself into.
As I mulled it over in my head over the next few weeks, I was able to calm myself down (somewhat). I didn't think I could handle working with children in Spanish, either, and that had worked out just fine. And when I was studying abroad in Mexico, I managed to get through haircut appoints and doctor's visits- how bad could this be?
However, as October first approached, my nerves started acting up again, especially after we had our advocate training meeting the Monday before. Our associate pastor, Greg, reminded us, "If we give these people a free meal, free clothes, free medical care, or anything else they might need, but don't share the reason why we are doing this, we haven't given them anything." Our number one priority as volunteers was to share the love of Christ with them. I confess, while this should have been an encouraging reminder, it took me from "anxious" to "terrified". Could I even share my faith with a stranger in English?! How could I take this all on in Spanish?! To stress me out more, I discovered that only one other person had officially signed up as a Spanish-speaking advocate- he is certified to teach Spanish and is much more fluent than I am, but he was still only one person. It was pretty much a sure thing that I would be called upon to use my Spanish.
Saturday, the day of the clinic, my dad offered to drive me to church in order to save a parking space at the clinic. I'm glad he did, as I was a nervous wreck and probably wasn't fit to drive that morning! Anyone who saw me beforehand at the volunteer-meeting saw what a pile of nervous energy I was! My good friend, Maria, tried to calm me down and remind me that God was in control, but I barely heard what she said. As the meeting concluded, the advocates all lined up along the hallway that runs through the church building, and, with shaking hands, I wrote, "Habla Espanol" on my nametag. Already, families were lining up to register for the clinic, and many of them were speaking Spanish. Clinic coordinators were going through the line of advocates asking if anyone else could possibly speak Spanish- I think they might have found one other volunteer who said he'd give it a try. I watched as a few families were assigned to their advocates, including the first Spanish speaking family to come in. They were assigned to Eric, my Spanish-speaking churchmate. I watched him greet the family and interact with them confidently in Spanish, and fought the urge to compare my Spanish skills (and general social skills) with his. Then, Carrie, the clinic coordinator, approached me. "Hannah, we need you to take this couple; they need a Spanish speaker."
GAUGH, NO!! I CAN'T DO IT!! "Okay," was all I said out loud, and followed Carrie over to where the couple was seated. It was at that moment that I felt God asking me, "Who are you doing this for?"
Who was I doing this for? Was I wanting to show off my Spanish skills to my church family? Did I want this couple I was about to serve to see me as a hero? Was I trying to prove something to myself? No, that's not why I was here. I had signed up to help out so that God might be honored and glorified, and so that the love of Christ would be reflected to people in need. And nowhere in the Bible had God commanded me to speak another language like a native speaker- He had simply commanded me to rely on Him and follow where He lead me- and now, He was leading me to serve this couple. "Okay, God, take over. I am nothing without You," I prayed, then took a deep breath and gave the couple my warmest smile, "Buenas dias, soy Hannah," I greeted them.
From there, God answered my prayer and "took over." The couple were both able to get eye-exams and much-needed glasses, along with a wonderful meal, some clothes (they had just moved to Wisconsin and were very thankful for free winter clothes!), and information about some programs in the Wausau area that they needed. In between times, I was so blessed with the conversation I was able to have with them. I learned that they lived in Merrill, and had also lived in Wisconsin several years ago, and had lived in several different states in between (he was a construction worker, which moved him around a lot!). I learned that they had one son, who was married and had three children and lived in Peru. I told them that I had a brother who lived in Africa, and that I had lived in Wausau all my life, but had studied at UW La Crosse and had spent a year in Puebla, Mexico. It turned out they were from the same area and were familiar with the university where I'd been an exchange student. At one point, they mentioned that they had lived in Chicago for a short time. "Our pastor is from Chicago!" I told them. "He is a Bears fan. El le gusta los Osos de Chicago!"
"Los Osos de Chicago?!" the husband exclaimed dramatically. "No, no, no! Los GREEN BAY PACKERS!!" All three of us laughed together, and I was reminded of how much we had in common, despite our different cultural backgrounds. At another point in our day, he shared with me that he had suffered from "blastocysts" (comparable to cancer) on his brain several years ago, and didn't expect to live. A doctor had performed surgery, and he had suffered from severe depression afterwards, which is common after such a surgery. "But prayer is powerful, and our God heals," he told me. "Today, no blastocysts, and no depression, even though I never took medicine for the depression. God has healed me. Jesus is the great physician."
I was sad to have to say goodbye once they received everything they needed. We closed in prayer together, and they were presented with Spanish Bibles as a gift. They both gave me hugs and thanked me, asking me to pass their thanks along to everyone who had been a part of this clinic. I served one other guest (an English-speaker) before the clinic closed. (Eric and I joked that neither of us could think in English after speaking Spanish for so long!) As the volunteers began tearing down the clinic and resetting the church for Sunday morning, we all had stories to share- what started out as a cool idea had turned into an incredible day where we were reminded of God's goodness and faithfulness.
As I pulled into church this morning, I almost felt like it was the day after Christmas- weeks of preparation finally climaxing in an incredible event, and now it was all over. However, our speaker in church reminded us that we are called to be the light of the world- that doesn't mean we flip our light on for a Saturday and turn it off when the clinic closes. Being the light of the world is a 24-7 calling- and my prayer is that myself, my brothers and sisters at Wausau Alliance, and the entire Body of Christ might answer that call, all for the glory of God.
Okay, Wausau definitely has a Hispanic population- that's why I had the job that I did at Kiefer last year. But..."I don't know if I'm really qualified to do it in Spanish," I told him. "I worked with little kids who spoke Spanish this past year (under the supervision of a teacher who speaks Spanish at a nearly-native level), but we're talking medical or deeply spiritual lingo, here."
"Well, I can tell you right now that, no matter how deep the language gets, a Spanish-speaker would be a lot better off with you than they would be with me, or most of the other people in our congregation," Adam pointed out.
Well, yeah, good point...so, I signed my name on the advocate sign-up sheet, and put "Bilingual- English/Spanish" immediately after it. I walked away wondering what I had just gotten myself into.
As I mulled it over in my head over the next few weeks, I was able to calm myself down (somewhat). I didn't think I could handle working with children in Spanish, either, and that had worked out just fine. And when I was studying abroad in Mexico, I managed to get through haircut appoints and doctor's visits- how bad could this be?
However, as October first approached, my nerves started acting up again, especially after we had our advocate training meeting the Monday before. Our associate pastor, Greg, reminded us, "If we give these people a free meal, free clothes, free medical care, or anything else they might need, but don't share the reason why we are doing this, we haven't given them anything." Our number one priority as volunteers was to share the love of Christ with them. I confess, while this should have been an encouraging reminder, it took me from "anxious" to "terrified". Could I even share my faith with a stranger in English?! How could I take this all on in Spanish?! To stress me out more, I discovered that only one other person had officially signed up as a Spanish-speaking advocate- he is certified to teach Spanish and is much more fluent than I am, but he was still only one person. It was pretty much a sure thing that I would be called upon to use my Spanish.
Saturday, the day of the clinic, my dad offered to drive me to church in order to save a parking space at the clinic. I'm glad he did, as I was a nervous wreck and probably wasn't fit to drive that morning! Anyone who saw me beforehand at the volunteer-meeting saw what a pile of nervous energy I was! My good friend, Maria, tried to calm me down and remind me that God was in control, but I barely heard what she said. As the meeting concluded, the advocates all lined up along the hallway that runs through the church building, and, with shaking hands, I wrote, "Habla Espanol" on my nametag. Already, families were lining up to register for the clinic, and many of them were speaking Spanish. Clinic coordinators were going through the line of advocates asking if anyone else could possibly speak Spanish- I think they might have found one other volunteer who said he'd give it a try. I watched as a few families were assigned to their advocates, including the first Spanish speaking family to come in. They were assigned to Eric, my Spanish-speaking churchmate. I watched him greet the family and interact with them confidently in Spanish, and fought the urge to compare my Spanish skills (and general social skills) with his. Then, Carrie, the clinic coordinator, approached me. "Hannah, we need you to take this couple; they need a Spanish speaker."
GAUGH, NO!! I CAN'T DO IT!! "Okay," was all I said out loud, and followed Carrie over to where the couple was seated. It was at that moment that I felt God asking me, "Who are you doing this for?"
Who was I doing this for? Was I wanting to show off my Spanish skills to my church family? Did I want this couple I was about to serve to see me as a hero? Was I trying to prove something to myself? No, that's not why I was here. I had signed up to help out so that God might be honored and glorified, and so that the love of Christ would be reflected to people in need. And nowhere in the Bible had God commanded me to speak another language like a native speaker- He had simply commanded me to rely on Him and follow where He lead me- and now, He was leading me to serve this couple. "Okay, God, take over. I am nothing without You," I prayed, then took a deep breath and gave the couple my warmest smile, "Buenas dias, soy Hannah," I greeted them.
From there, God answered my prayer and "took over." The couple were both able to get eye-exams and much-needed glasses, along with a wonderful meal, some clothes (they had just moved to Wisconsin and were very thankful for free winter clothes!), and information about some programs in the Wausau area that they needed. In between times, I was so blessed with the conversation I was able to have with them. I learned that they lived in Merrill, and had also lived in Wisconsin several years ago, and had lived in several different states in between (he was a construction worker, which moved him around a lot!). I learned that they had one son, who was married and had three children and lived in Peru. I told them that I had a brother who lived in Africa, and that I had lived in Wausau all my life, but had studied at UW La Crosse and had spent a year in Puebla, Mexico. It turned out they were from the same area and were familiar with the university where I'd been an exchange student. At one point, they mentioned that they had lived in Chicago for a short time. "Our pastor is from Chicago!" I told them. "He is a Bears fan. El le gusta los Osos de Chicago!"
"Los Osos de Chicago?!" the husband exclaimed dramatically. "No, no, no! Los GREEN BAY PACKERS!!" All three of us laughed together, and I was reminded of how much we had in common, despite our different cultural backgrounds. At another point in our day, he shared with me that he had suffered from "blastocysts" (comparable to cancer) on his brain several years ago, and didn't expect to live. A doctor had performed surgery, and he had suffered from severe depression afterwards, which is common after such a surgery. "But prayer is powerful, and our God heals," he told me. "Today, no blastocysts, and no depression, even though I never took medicine for the depression. God has healed me. Jesus is the great physician."
I was sad to have to say goodbye once they received everything they needed. We closed in prayer together, and they were presented with Spanish Bibles as a gift. They both gave me hugs and thanked me, asking me to pass their thanks along to everyone who had been a part of this clinic. I served one other guest (an English-speaker) before the clinic closed. (Eric and I joked that neither of us could think in English after speaking Spanish for so long!) As the volunteers began tearing down the clinic and resetting the church for Sunday morning, we all had stories to share- what started out as a cool idea had turned into an incredible day where we were reminded of God's goodness and faithfulness.
As I pulled into church this morning, I almost felt like it was the day after Christmas- weeks of preparation finally climaxing in an incredible event, and now it was all over. However, our speaker in church reminded us that we are called to be the light of the world- that doesn't mean we flip our light on for a Saturday and turn it off when the clinic closes. Being the light of the world is a 24-7 calling- and my prayer is that myself, my brothers and sisters at Wausau Alliance, and the entire Body of Christ might answer that call, all for the glory of God.
Friday, September 16, 2011
God in the Details...
So, earlier this week I was offered a modeling job in Chicago- it wasn't glamorous and I only turned over a small profit, but it was with an agency that had just offered me a contract, so I was hoping it would be a chance to get my foot in the door for higher-profile jobs. The plan was for me to leave Wausau at 4:30am, meet up with the client and his wife in Hartford (near Milwaukee), drive to Chicago with them, and then return that evening to Wausau.
Well, Wednesday night I went to meet up with my good friend, Maria, for a bit, and then help out with AWANA at church. Just as I was pulling into our meeting spot, though, the "Brake" light came on in my car. I checked to make sure the emergency brake was off (it was...which I knew, since that car won't go over 3 mph with the e-brake on!). I was concerned, but I enjoyed my time with Maria, drove the car to church afterwards, and then drove home after AWANA. The brake light was on the entire time, even though I made absolutely certain the e-brake was off. I mentioned the problem to my dad when I got home, and after verifying that I had NOT just driven across town and back with the e-brake on, he decided it was probably an issue with the switch on the light. Annoying, but nothing that should stop me from driving to Milwaukee and back.
So, I left at 4:30am as planned on Thursday and made it to the client's home with no problem, successfully completed the modeling gig (easiest job ever, by the way. I literally had to stand there and look pretty for a few hours), then returned to Milwaukee with the clients and hopped into my car to drive home, expecting to be home in time to have dinner with my parents. I stopped to get gas before hitting the interstate, and as I pulled in I felt like I had to hit the brakes awful hard to stop...maybe I was going faster than I realized? Hmm...well, I filled up with gas and headed back toward highway 41. I slowed to a stop before turning onto the on-ramp, and that's when I realized my brakes were complete mush! Um...okay, how about if I don't get on the interstate and drive 75mph with mushy brakes?! (By the way...if you were one of the drivers that I confused with my sudden lane change out of the turn-lane, I apologize!)
I went further down the road hoping I could find a gas station or body shop to pull into, but all there was were residential areas and farmland. I finally pulled over in a residential area and called my dad to ask what he thought I should do. He advised me to find someone to look at the car and not drive it home until it was fixed. Thankfully, there happened to be a mom playing with her kids in front of one of the houses, so I approached her and asked if she knew who I could call. She turned out to be a police officer for the county and arranged for the sheriff to come out and call a tow-truck for me. Unfortunately, there was no way my car could be fixed until morning. The repair shop offered me a rental car to drive home, but my insurance wouldn't cover that, so it would cost several times more than what I had just made at the modeling job! Thankfully, I discovered I was actually in West Bend, where my (biological) sister, Justice lives. Actually, the auto repair place was just around the corner from her boyfriend's mother's house, where she was babysitting his little sister. Justice came to my rescue and picked me up, and they were nice enough to let me crash on their couch for the night. As frustrated as I was that I wasn't able to get home, it was great to catch up with my sister and meet her boyfriend's family (and so wonderful not to have to pay for a rental car or hotel!). My car was fixed by 1:00 this afternoon (it turned out that a brakeline had rusted through, and the brake fluid had leaked out), and I was back home by 3:30.
Reflecting on this whole string of events, I am awed by God's hand of protection and His provision. My brakes could have fallen apart in so many other places- as I was driving home from church on Wednesday (and my church is on top of an extremely steep hill!), before I made it to Milwaukee (which would have meant having to cancel the modeling gig and probably never being booked by the agency again), or, had it been 30 seconds later, as I was going 70 miles an hour on the interstate! The timing couldn't have been better on that one! Then, God lead me to a safe neighborhood where the right person to help me just happened to be standing outside with her children. To top it all of, I happened to be in the same town as my sister...even just a few blocks from the place that repaired my car!
What a great reminder of how, even in a time of frustration and uncertainty, God was still present and at work!!
Well, Wednesday night I went to meet up with my good friend, Maria, for a bit, and then help out with AWANA at church. Just as I was pulling into our meeting spot, though, the "Brake" light came on in my car. I checked to make sure the emergency brake was off (it was...which I knew, since that car won't go over 3 mph with the e-brake on!). I was concerned, but I enjoyed my time with Maria, drove the car to church afterwards, and then drove home after AWANA. The brake light was on the entire time, even though I made absolutely certain the e-brake was off. I mentioned the problem to my dad when I got home, and after verifying that I had NOT just driven across town and back with the e-brake on, he decided it was probably an issue with the switch on the light. Annoying, but nothing that should stop me from driving to Milwaukee and back.
So, I left at 4:30am as planned on Thursday and made it to the client's home with no problem, successfully completed the modeling gig (easiest job ever, by the way. I literally had to stand there and look pretty for a few hours), then returned to Milwaukee with the clients and hopped into my car to drive home, expecting to be home in time to have dinner with my parents. I stopped to get gas before hitting the interstate, and as I pulled in I felt like I had to hit the brakes awful hard to stop...maybe I was going faster than I realized? Hmm...well, I filled up with gas and headed back toward highway 41. I slowed to a stop before turning onto the on-ramp, and that's when I realized my brakes were complete mush! Um...okay, how about if I don't get on the interstate and drive 75mph with mushy brakes?! (By the way...if you were one of the drivers that I confused with my sudden lane change out of the turn-lane, I apologize!)
I went further down the road hoping I could find a gas station or body shop to pull into, but all there was were residential areas and farmland. I finally pulled over in a residential area and called my dad to ask what he thought I should do. He advised me to find someone to look at the car and not drive it home until it was fixed. Thankfully, there happened to be a mom playing with her kids in front of one of the houses, so I approached her and asked if she knew who I could call. She turned out to be a police officer for the county and arranged for the sheriff to come out and call a tow-truck for me. Unfortunately, there was no way my car could be fixed until morning. The repair shop offered me a rental car to drive home, but my insurance wouldn't cover that, so it would cost several times more than what I had just made at the modeling job! Thankfully, I discovered I was actually in West Bend, where my (biological) sister, Justice lives. Actually, the auto repair place was just around the corner from her boyfriend's mother's house, where she was babysitting his little sister. Justice came to my rescue and picked me up, and they were nice enough to let me crash on their couch for the night. As frustrated as I was that I wasn't able to get home, it was great to catch up with my sister and meet her boyfriend's family (and so wonderful not to have to pay for a rental car or hotel!). My car was fixed by 1:00 this afternoon (it turned out that a brakeline had rusted through, and the brake fluid had leaked out), and I was back home by 3:30.
Reflecting on this whole string of events, I am awed by God's hand of protection and His provision. My brakes could have fallen apart in so many other places- as I was driving home from church on Wednesday (and my church is on top of an extremely steep hill!), before I made it to Milwaukee (which would have meant having to cancel the modeling gig and probably never being booked by the agency again), or, had it been 30 seconds later, as I was going 70 miles an hour on the interstate! The timing couldn't have been better on that one! Then, God lead me to a safe neighborhood where the right person to help me just happened to be standing outside with her children. To top it all of, I happened to be in the same town as my sister...even just a few blocks from the place that repaired my car!
What a great reminder of how, even in a time of frustration and uncertainty, God was still present and at work!!
Thursday, September 1, 2011
So How Did it Feel to Have an Eating Disorder?
"So, how did it feel to have an eating disorder? I mean, how did you resist food all the time?"
This question was recently asked of me by a stranger in an online forum. Of course, the beauty/problem of the internet is that it allows you to conceal your identity- I don't know if this person was a 50 year old man or a teenage girl. It sounds like an innocent question- maybe a bit tactless, but innocent nonetheless. However, I remember when I, like so many other people, was the one asking that question...and my curiosity threw me into a long, downward spiral that I wouldn't wish on my worst enemy. I'm hoping I can answer that question here (maybe, if I can remember where that forum was, I'll send that person a link to this blog.)
Let me start with an analogy that most of us can relate to. Have you ever thrown yourself into a project in a poorly ventilated room? Maybe you were doing intense labor in a room that was already hot and stuffy, and whatever you were doing was kicking up dust (or worse) to add to the atmosphere. Or maybe you were painting or polishing wood or gluing something with rubber cement, or coloring with magic markers, and didn't realize how suffocating the fumes were becoming? Maybe you started to feel a little headachey or nauseous, but you were determined to get that project done, so you kept plugging through it. When you finally finished, you stepped outside- and suddenly, the fresh air hits you. You didn't realize how severe that headache or nausea had become until that breath of clean air starting curing it. Why did you spend all day in that disgusting, polluted room? Well, at least now you have a finished project to show for it, right?
In some ways, that's kind of how an eating disorder feels. Let me explain. As early as age nine or ten, I caught on to something about society: people who were overweight were perceived as lazy, disgusting, a burden to others, and ugly. On the other hand, someone who was too thin was at best "lucky to have that problem," and at worse, "A poor, sick person who needs love and compassion." Okay, so apparently being too skinny was waaaaay better than being heavy.
I was also picking up on a message from the media- diet-product commercials and journalism stories talked about how people had gained weight and their lives had fallen apart, or how they had lost weight and their lives "were changed" for the better. Plus, by junior high, I was being exposed to teen movies and stories that glamorized eating disorders. It was always the prima ballerina, the head cheerleader, or the homecoming queen that was anorexic or bulimic. In the worst of these movies, the eating disorder lands her in the hospital (for a whole three minutes of the movie) and the boy she likes comes rushing in to tell her he has loved her all this time and doesn't want to lose her, or her controlling parents sit beside her hospital bed apologizing for pushing her to this point and promising to listen to her from now on. By the next scene, she's fully recovered, still looking like a model, and hand in hand with her new boyfriend or laughing with her parents about something.
I remember in 6th grade, a few of my girlfriends and I discussed how we "wondered what it was like" to have an eating disorder. I'm sure I wasn't the only one thinking that maybe MY life would be "changed forever" if I dropped some weight, or picturing my crush sitting beside my hospital bed begging me to get well so he could be my boyfriend. At any rate, I was terrified of gaining weight (even though I knew I wasn't done growing yet) because gaining weight made one "disgusting," didn't it?
So, one day when I was almost twelve, I gave in to my curiosity and my fear of gaining weight and tried making myself throw up- actually, I don't think it was the first time I tried, but it was the first time I succeeded. And it didn't feel good at all, but, somehow, it felt like a great accomplishment to me. From that point on, the suffocating fumes of addiction began to flow around me, but I refused to stop because I wanted to "finish" what I started. I knew that my sore throat was caused by purging or that skipping lunch would mean I couldn't focus on my afternoon classes. I knew that the headaches and nausea I felt were the result of disordered eating habits (although I wouldn't admit it to myself). But I was determined to fit into size zero clothes and weigh under 100 pounds all my life, so I wouldn't give up.
I remember a few times when I tried to stop- I remember meeting my friend's mom who had severe dental damage as a result of being sick and throwing up all the time, and fearing that bulimia would cause the same problem for me. But I couldn't stop- the minute I was left home alone or had the chance to skip a meal unnoticed, I would find myself slipping again. Food had control over me- I was either terrified of it, or I was turning to it for comfort or stress relief, followed by painful episodes of purging. I was willing to sacrifice my own integrity for it- I'd lie to cover up my disordered habits, or steel food and hide it...and then I wondered who I was. Didn't I claim to be a follower of Christ? Wasn't I looked up to as a leader in my church youth group and school Bible club? Why was I doing all this?! Of course, the stress those questions caused me only lead me to more episodes of binging and purging or starving myself.
Freedom finally came for me one night when I was seventeen and a senior in high school. I was on a retreat with my church group and listened to a message about offering myself as a "Living Sacrifice," to God. For the first time, I saw my eating disorder not as just a bad habit, but as an addiction and a sin...a sin that God wanted me to give over to Him so that I could find freedom in Him. When my youth pastor initiated an alter call, I went forward and knelt down to surrender my struggle to God. Afterwards, I confessed to the other girls and female youth leaders, and then went with my three closest friends to call my parents and tell them the truth. I had expected judgment (so much for the fantasies in the movies) but only received assurance that I was loved and that my friends and family would stick by me on the road to recovery.
That was when I stepped out of the stuffy, fume-filled room into the fresh air. I had forgotten what it was like to be free of addiction and to have food as an alli, rather than an enemy of my health. I had not realized how much my eating disorder had taken over my life until I remembered what it was like to be physically and emotionally healthy.
There's one way, though, that my opening analogy fails: after I stepped out of that addiction-polluted room into the fresh air of freedom, there was no successful, completed "project" to show for it. I wasn't any more pretty, popular, or successful than I would have been without the pain and suffering I'd put myself through. I try not to dwell on what could have been, but sometimes I wonder how my teen years would have been different if I had committed to a healthy lifestyle, rather than allowing an eating disorder to overtake me. I played tennis from 8th to 12th grade, and I doubt I could have been a star, but maybe I would have won more matches or made the lower end of varsity if I had been physically healthier. Maybe I could have done better academically if I had been more energized and able to focus on school. I guess those are questions that can never be answered. I am extremely blessed in that I recovered physically 100% from my eating disorder- I have heard horror stories of people facing lifelong medical issues, ranging from not being able to lay down unless their stomach is empty (or else they'll throw up) to sterility.
So, to the person who asked me, I hope that answers your question. I am so grateful for God's forgiveness, mercy, and healing power...but, if I had the chance to travel back in time to any day of my life, I would choose that day when I was twelve, and just never take that first step.
This question was recently asked of me by a stranger in an online forum. Of course, the beauty/problem of the internet is that it allows you to conceal your identity- I don't know if this person was a 50 year old man or a teenage girl. It sounds like an innocent question- maybe a bit tactless, but innocent nonetheless. However, I remember when I, like so many other people, was the one asking that question...and my curiosity threw me into a long, downward spiral that I wouldn't wish on my worst enemy. I'm hoping I can answer that question here (maybe, if I can remember where that forum was, I'll send that person a link to this blog.)
Let me start with an analogy that most of us can relate to. Have you ever thrown yourself into a project in a poorly ventilated room? Maybe you were doing intense labor in a room that was already hot and stuffy, and whatever you were doing was kicking up dust (or worse) to add to the atmosphere. Or maybe you were painting or polishing wood or gluing something with rubber cement, or coloring with magic markers, and didn't realize how suffocating the fumes were becoming? Maybe you started to feel a little headachey or nauseous, but you were determined to get that project done, so you kept plugging through it. When you finally finished, you stepped outside- and suddenly, the fresh air hits you. You didn't realize how severe that headache or nausea had become until that breath of clean air starting curing it. Why did you spend all day in that disgusting, polluted room? Well, at least now you have a finished project to show for it, right?
In some ways, that's kind of how an eating disorder feels. Let me explain. As early as age nine or ten, I caught on to something about society: people who were overweight were perceived as lazy, disgusting, a burden to others, and ugly. On the other hand, someone who was too thin was at best "lucky to have that problem," and at worse, "A poor, sick person who needs love and compassion." Okay, so apparently being too skinny was waaaaay better than being heavy.
I was also picking up on a message from the media- diet-product commercials and journalism stories talked about how people had gained weight and their lives had fallen apart, or how they had lost weight and their lives "were changed" for the better. Plus, by junior high, I was being exposed to teen movies and stories that glamorized eating disorders. It was always the prima ballerina, the head cheerleader, or the homecoming queen that was anorexic or bulimic. In the worst of these movies, the eating disorder lands her in the hospital (for a whole three minutes of the movie) and the boy she likes comes rushing in to tell her he has loved her all this time and doesn't want to lose her, or her controlling parents sit beside her hospital bed apologizing for pushing her to this point and promising to listen to her from now on. By the next scene, she's fully recovered, still looking like a model, and hand in hand with her new boyfriend or laughing with her parents about something.
I remember in 6th grade, a few of my girlfriends and I discussed how we "wondered what it was like" to have an eating disorder. I'm sure I wasn't the only one thinking that maybe MY life would be "changed forever" if I dropped some weight, or picturing my crush sitting beside my hospital bed begging me to get well so he could be my boyfriend. At any rate, I was terrified of gaining weight (even though I knew I wasn't done growing yet) because gaining weight made one "disgusting," didn't it?
So, one day when I was almost twelve, I gave in to my curiosity and my fear of gaining weight and tried making myself throw up- actually, I don't think it was the first time I tried, but it was the first time I succeeded. And it didn't feel good at all, but, somehow, it felt like a great accomplishment to me. From that point on, the suffocating fumes of addiction began to flow around me, but I refused to stop because I wanted to "finish" what I started. I knew that my sore throat was caused by purging or that skipping lunch would mean I couldn't focus on my afternoon classes. I knew that the headaches and nausea I felt were the result of disordered eating habits (although I wouldn't admit it to myself). But I was determined to fit into size zero clothes and weigh under 100 pounds all my life, so I wouldn't give up.
I remember a few times when I tried to stop- I remember meeting my friend's mom who had severe dental damage as a result of being sick and throwing up all the time, and fearing that bulimia would cause the same problem for me. But I couldn't stop- the minute I was left home alone or had the chance to skip a meal unnoticed, I would find myself slipping again. Food had control over me- I was either terrified of it, or I was turning to it for comfort or stress relief, followed by painful episodes of purging. I was willing to sacrifice my own integrity for it- I'd lie to cover up my disordered habits, or steel food and hide it...and then I wondered who I was. Didn't I claim to be a follower of Christ? Wasn't I looked up to as a leader in my church youth group and school Bible club? Why was I doing all this?! Of course, the stress those questions caused me only lead me to more episodes of binging and purging or starving myself.
Freedom finally came for me one night when I was seventeen and a senior in high school. I was on a retreat with my church group and listened to a message about offering myself as a "Living Sacrifice," to God. For the first time, I saw my eating disorder not as just a bad habit, but as an addiction and a sin...a sin that God wanted me to give over to Him so that I could find freedom in Him. When my youth pastor initiated an alter call, I went forward and knelt down to surrender my struggle to God. Afterwards, I confessed to the other girls and female youth leaders, and then went with my three closest friends to call my parents and tell them the truth. I had expected judgment (so much for the fantasies in the movies) but only received assurance that I was loved and that my friends and family would stick by me on the road to recovery.
That was when I stepped out of the stuffy, fume-filled room into the fresh air. I had forgotten what it was like to be free of addiction and to have food as an alli, rather than an enemy of my health. I had not realized how much my eating disorder had taken over my life until I remembered what it was like to be physically and emotionally healthy.
There's one way, though, that my opening analogy fails: after I stepped out of that addiction-polluted room into the fresh air of freedom, there was no successful, completed "project" to show for it. I wasn't any more pretty, popular, or successful than I would have been without the pain and suffering I'd put myself through. I try not to dwell on what could have been, but sometimes I wonder how my teen years would have been different if I had committed to a healthy lifestyle, rather than allowing an eating disorder to overtake me. I played tennis from 8th to 12th grade, and I doubt I could have been a star, but maybe I would have won more matches or made the lower end of varsity if I had been physically healthier. Maybe I could have done better academically if I had been more energized and able to focus on school. I guess those are questions that can never be answered. I am extremely blessed in that I recovered physically 100% from my eating disorder- I have heard horror stories of people facing lifelong medical issues, ranging from not being able to lay down unless their stomach is empty (or else they'll throw up) to sterility.
So, to the person who asked me, I hope that answers your question. I am so grateful for God's forgiveness, mercy, and healing power...but, if I had the chance to travel back in time to any day of my life, I would choose that day when I was twelve, and just never take that first step.
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