Still Showing up Differently

I recently read the testimony of a man who was talking about his struggle with addiction. He said he began his recovery the day he chose to show up differently in the world. The words, “I chose to show up differently” deeply resonated with me when I first heard them. That was because God had used several events to awaken deeply buried pain caused by unresolved traumas I had experienced earlier in life.

For years I had masked pain from the traumas in different ways. I masked it with an eating disorder that led me to sway between severe anorexia to compulsive eating. I masked the shame I experienced over the traumas with a hyper-critical spirit that served o focus others’ eyes away from the messiness of my life and soul that could have potentially bubbled over at any given moment. Third. I masked the fear of being hurt again with self-protective behaviors like defensiveness, obsessing over real or imagined offenses, shutting down, or completely withdrawing.

During an anorexic phase of my disorder, I went to get a haircut and when the stylist finished washing my hair, my neck muscles were so weak I couldn’t lift my head without using my hands. The weakness jolted me into seeing my health was in jeapordy. As I struggled, I also realized I was tired of living a life centered around diets, exercise, and self-contempt. Friends and my church community didn’t know how to help, so I made the brave decision in the face of the fear I was experiencing to seek Christian counseling when it wasn’t a widely accepted thing to do. Essentially, I was choosing to start showing up differently in my world.  

I entered counseling, thinking there would be a quick fix. Maybe it would be the sharing of the trauma that would set me free from the pain it caused. Maybe it would be the confession of the severe self-contempt with which I was struggling that would set me free. Maybe it would the acknowledgement of just how out of control my disorder was as I was seeking control over my life, my emotions, and my body. Maybe it would be the tears I eventually shed as I grieved the losses caused by the trauma and the poor decisions that I had made in response to it.

Looking back, I now realize I was looking for a magical decision like the decision to show up differently to be the “cure all.” The “cure all” would be whatever would helped me become like a person who had never been traumatized and who had never developed an eating disorder. Over the course of my healing journey, I grew to accept and then grew to embrace the truth that my recovery wasn’t about a one-time decision to just show up differently in my world. I would have to make the same decisions over and over on a daily, hourly, and sometimes moment by moment basis. I will share a few of the decisions I have made.    

I chose to show up differently when I chose to talk honestly with my therapist about the different traumas I had experienced as a child, as a teen, and as an adult, facing and accepting the real story I had been living.  

I chose to show up differently every week when I was willing to grieve the life that I had been wishing I had had instead of the one from which I was recovering.   

I chose to show up differently when I decided to face the truth of how serious the disorder was and agreed to work with a doctor and a dietician to get my health back.

I chose to show up differently when I agreed to experience and sit in the pain that I had buried instead of numbing it with eating disordered behaviors.

I chose to show up differently every week when I participated in groups with others who had experienced similar traumas and eating disorders instead of isolating.  

I chose to show up differently when I revealed to my therapist the depth of the self-contempt I was experiencing and began to choose daily to believe I truly am who God says I am.

I chose to show up differently when I began to use my voice in relationships by asking directly for what I needed, desired, or preferred and allowing others the freedom to honor the requests or not.   

I chose to show up differently when I quit trying to control everything and everyone around me through co-dependent tendencies that I used to calm anxiety.

I chose to show up differently when I began to explore and embrace emotions God created me to feel and to manage them by identifying and changing cognitive distortions.  

I chose to show up differently when I had a dream in which every woman that I passed had no mouth and dead eyes and woke up begging God to give women their voices and wrote books to help others.

I chose to show up differently when I began to ask the Lord in faith, to show me where He was in all that I had experienced and began to see how truly beautiful and good God was and is in the midst of the ugly horrific things experienced.

I chose to show up differently when I began to rest in God’s love instead of trying to earn the love that He had already sacrificially given to me.

I chose to show up differently when I realized I had been trying to elicit love from other broken people who didn’t know how to love well and began to focus more on how I can love well by letting Jesus’s love flow through me.

I chose to show up differently when I acknowledged the hard all around us every day and chose to believe our God is bigger than the biggest mountain put in front of me, His love stronger than the vilest hate swirling around us, and His spilt blood is deeper than the sin I commit.

To be honest, this list is not exhaustive and is comprised of things that I have to choose repeatedly day after day, moment after moment so that I can show up differently, hoping to reflect the heart and the character of my God rather than a wounded broken human. I remember getting angry when I realized there was no quick or permanent fix. That anger makes me smile now because I know it is in my weaknesses and in the having to choose again and again to show up differently that I have come to experience God’s love and strength the most.

We Come Limping to His Table

In high school I developed an eating disorder that expressed itself in many ways over time. My kids were in high school and college when I realized my dieting was dangerously out of control and I decided to get help. When I first started counseling, I was in denial about the impact my disorder had on others and said something like, "At least it's only food and doesn't impact my family like alcohol or drugs might." The counselor smiled and explained that if he were doing family counseling with us, the first things he would do is ask my children to draw the family dinner table. He then asked me what I thought they would draw and I had to admit that they would have drawn the table with my place empty as I seldom ate with them. I realized in that session that the dinner table was as much about family interaction as it was about food. In recovery, I also became more and more aware and fascinated by Bible passages that dealt with food and meals.

I had struggled with deep shame for a long time over my relationship with food. I hated how often my thoughts were consumed with food, dieting, or the number on the scale. I was also ashamed that food itself was the source of my struggle. After I entered recovery I realized the very first sin committed was centered around food. I also realized Adam and Eve's choice to eat the fruit was more about what Satan promised than the fruit itself. Satan's temptation stirred in them a desire that the fruit didn't fulfill and they ended up miserable.

I could relate to Adam and Eve as I turned to food when I mistook relational hunger for physical hunger.At times I searched frantically for the perfect food to satisfy a hunger I couldn't identify--a hunger food could never satisfy. I could relate to them when I thought I would be happier if only I had something else, which for me was usually a low number on the scale. I restricted food intake so I could feel more powerful when I felt powerless over life, only to realize it was a vicious cycle.I could relate to them when I thought certain foods would calm my anxious heart.  And, when I ate to calm my anxiety, I could sleep the sleep of a food coma, only to awaken to unresolved issues that had stirred my anxious heart, now coupled with the shame brought on by my choices. I eventually realized food wasn't the enemy and it didn't have power over me unless I gave it power. I also realized that eating wasn't a shameful act when I did it with a grateful heart, praising God for His provision. In fact it was an act of worship, resulting in God being ever present. I could walk with Him through disordered thoughts and temptations and see them as an opportunity to know God better.

A few years into recovery I was in a freak accident that left me with a limp. As a result, I embraced the story of Mephibosheth who was Jonathon's son and Saul's grandson. It would have been customary for Jonathon to become king when Saul died, but God appointed David instead. David faithfully served Saul in the interim, but Saul was filled with jealousy over David's God-given abilities, future kingship, and David's victory over Goliath that resulted in popularity. In a fit of jealous rage, he tried to kill David and David realized the king viewed him as an enemy. This grieved both Jonathon and David who were close friends. Jonathon helped David escape and David vowed to show Jonathon and his family mercy when he became king.

Then Saul and Jonathon were killed, leaving behind Mephibosheth. When Mephibosheth's nurse heard of their deaths, she fled with the young boy and fell, injuring both his legs. After David established his kingdom, he remembered his promise to Jonathon and called a servant to find out if there was anyone from Saul's house alive to which he could show mercy. The servant told him about young crippled Mephibosheth and David sent for him.

I imagine Mephibosheth was filled with fear when he was called to the palace of the king that his grandfather had tried to kill. And, when he arrived, he humbly bowed before David and David told him not to be afraid because he had called him to show him favor. Mephibosheth offered himself as a servant, but David gave him a seat at his own table, which meant he, the king, considered Mephibosheth as a son. David also gave him land so his servants could work it and provide all that he needed, which gave the crippled Mephibosheth back his dignity. 

I love this story because of my limp and the invitation to the king's table. Each one of us is Mephibosheth. We were born God's enemy and have been crippled by sin that we have committed and by sin that has been perpetrated against us. Since the fall we have all also been crippled by all sorts of trauma, causing us to be crippled in our ability to do good, our ability to manage our emotions, our ability to discern truth from lies, our ability to love well, and our ability to worship and honor God. Yet, like Mephibosheth, we have been invited to the palace of the King of kings and we come limping to God's table with nothing to offer. Just as Mephibosheth found mercy because of David's love for Jonathon, we have found mercy because of the Father's love for Jesus. Like Mephibosheth, we who don't deserve to even be servants, have been made joint heirs with Christ.  

There are still times that my ankle gets sore and stiff and my limp becomes more pronounced and walking more awkward. There are times that something happens to trigger feelings of past traumas and I find myself walking through my relationships with an invisible "limp" that, too, feels awkward and uncomfortable. There are also times I experience stress and old eating disordered thoughts raise their ugly heads and I find myself "limping" awkwardly through the day barely holding on to what is healthy and good. At those times I know I can either get frustrated and give into shameful thoughts that shout in my head, "I should be over this by now!" Or, I can choose to remember how Mephibosheth, who was David's enemy came to be seated at the king's table and then choose to cling to the truth that I, who was once God's enemy, am now seated at His table, forever belonging to His family. I am also reminded that through His divine power He has given me every thing I need for a godly life through the knowledge of Him who has called us out of His goodness. Over time I've let go of the shame I associated with my different "limps"--physical, relational, and emotional--and I am thankful for this Biblical picture of my reconciliation to the King of kings. 

I know that as we, God's crippled children, each come hobbling up to His table, we are met with lavish mercy and grace that we did nothing to earn. I know that at His table we are forever covered with a love that has been shown through Christ's brutal death on a cross. You  and I may come limping to His table, but the Father welcomes us without hesitation, seeing each of us hidden in Christ becoming the person He created us to be. 

Do You Want to get Well?

February is eating disorder awareness month, so I decided to share a bit of my journey with you. Looking back, I can't remember a time in which food wasn't an issue for me. In my preschool years I developed a mild preoccupation with food and asked at the end of each meal what would be served at the next. By second grade, I had already begun to believe I was fat, ugly, and defective. I believed I needed to lose weight, even though my childhood pictures tell a different story. By junior high, I was trying one fad diet after another and soon developed a legalistic perspective about food, causing me to categorize all foods as either good foods or bad foods. Every new diet had it's own restrictions and when I put them all together, the list of acceptable foods became quite small.

The summer after eight grade, my family was in the process of moving and I stayed behind with my mom to finish my summer job as she finished her graduate classes. I didn't like the feelings of anxiety and grief that I was experiencing over the impending move and found relief by focusing on my weight and whatever diet I was currently on. After all, I didn't want to be rejected in a new school for being too "fat." During that summer I started fasting for weeks at a time and I exercised obsessively late into the night. It was easy to get away with the behaviors because I worked in the evenings and my mom assumed I ate at the restaurant I worked in and didn't know I was exercising after she was asleep. After the move, I spent a year overeating and then as I adjusted I began another cycle of rigid dieting.

As a survivor of childhood sexual abuse, I was growing increasingly uncomfortable in my maturing body and, as an introvert, I often felt inadequate navigating relationships. So, I hid behind by disorder. During that time I remember not wanting to grow up, while at the same time I took on many of the adult responsibilities so I was too busy to just hang out. At the end of tenth grade, we were involved in an accident in which a woman died and the trauma of that event threw me into a full-blown eating disorder. The rest of my high school years were plagued by stressful situations--three adults in our family having major surgeries in the same year, dysfunctional unhealthy relationships, having a boyfriend who nearly died after accidently shooting himself, and having a friend's mother die from suicide. I was spinning with emotions I couldn't process and to calm the internal chaos I took even more control over my diet and exercise program. When I was successful at keeping the food rules, I felt powerful and believed I was a good Christian for having such great self control. However, even one bite of something not on the good list would throw me into shame and self-contempt so deep that it was paralyzing at time. I often found myself confessing to God what I had labeled as my sin.

When I first entered counseling I thought all the painful emotions I experienced were only about the food I ate, but as I began to eat healthier, I realized those feelings of shame and self-contempt were also tied to other things not so easy to control. They were tied to the desire to be perfect, which I thought necessary to earn God's love and approval. They were tied to sin that I had confessed, but had had a hard time believing God had forgiven. And, they were tied to the sexual abuse for which I was wrongfully been blaming myself.

At one point in my recovery my counselor gently asked me, "Do you want to get well or am I the only one who wants that for you?" The question felt familiar as I processed it with her. Later that evening, I realized it was familiar because it essentially the same question Jesus had asked the man laying by the Bethesda Pool in Jerusalem. The paralyzed man had been laying there for thirty eight years, waiting to be healed. I knew Jesus healed that man on the Sabbath to draw attention to the ugly legalism of the religious leaders and soon realized the legalism Jesus was confronting was not all that different than the strict legalistic rules about food that I had created for myself. I think anyone who has struggled with any type of besetting sin, eating disorders, substance abuse, sexual addiction, or thought patterns that spiral them into despair can relate to the paralytic's struggle and to mine as well.

We try in our own power to stop doing something and then fail. That failure leads us to eventually give up, believing we are powerless to do anything about it. As believers we may even hide our sin and addictions for a season, but when we do that we live under a shroud of shame that God never meant us to live under. Sometimes, we even excuse our sin, saying boys will be boys, girls will be girls, or everybody does it. At other times we redefine sin as I did with my food rules and end up beating ourselves up for something God never said was wrong.

We don't need a list of rules to follow to defeat whatever it is that cripples us. We need Jesus. I know that sounds like a platitude, but hang with me for a few moments and let me explain what I mean. I needed Jesus with skin on in the form of other believers. I needed someone to hear my story and sit with me as I experienced the pain from my past that I buried deep for fear that if I felt it I would crumble into pieces that no one could put back together. These people were people who were willing to weep with me and rejoice with me. I needed them to enter the dark places of my mind to help me see that I had wrongfully defined eating food as sin and help me see that God intended it for both nourishment and pleasure. I needed them to help me realize that the traumatic events I had experienced weren't proof of God's displeasure with me. I needed them to help me recognize the lies I believed so that I could learn to replace them with God's truth. I needed people who could help me learn how to starve the monster called "Shame" by teaching me that I could worship God as I ate the food He provided with a thankful heart and that I had the power, as an adult, to give the shame of my abuse back to my abusers.

I needed Jesus in the form of His truth. That truth sometimes came in the form of the written Word that I digester during quiet times--truth that helped me to learn to walk with God through the recovery process. Sometimes His truth came in the form of sermons I heard in church, on the radio, or watched on the internet. Sometimes it came in the form of form of encouragement notes others graciously wrote to me. Sometimes it came in the form of music that other struggling saints had penned--music of people like Michael Card, Dennis Jernigan, Amy Grant, Natalie Grant, and many others. Sometimes it came in the form of processing verses through conversations I had with friends, allowing me to slow down and contemplate how Gods' truth impacts me daily.  

I needed Jesus in the form of accountability partners who were willing to take calls from me when I was struggling with eating-disorder behaviors. These were nonjudgmental people, who understood the process of overcoming strongholds is a battle that begins in the mind. One night I called one partner because I had struggled with the desire to binge and over-exercise all day and I was exhausted. I called her and listed the things I was tempted to do and told her I was choosing not to do them. I asked her, "If I don't do those things, what can I do?" She laughed, which made me laugh and the laughing broke the miserable feeling of angst with which I had been experiencing all day. She reminded me of a couple of healthy behaviors I could do to process my emotions and then we just visited a few minuets about our lives often dissolving in laughter. I realized later that the healthiest thing I did that day was to choose to connect with someone who loved Jesus and was willing to simply be there. She didn't shame me. She didn't have to hear all of my garbage. She didn't throw verses or platitudes at me. She didn't even try to fix me or scold me for being weak. She just simply reminded me she cared.

There were also times that accountability partners were unavailable and I simply needed to sit at the feet of Jesus, confessing to Him the struggle I was experiencing so that I would come to know that He would meet me there. During these times, I chose to be like Jacob wrestling with God by crying out to Him in radical transparency. As I cried out to Him, I also reminded myself of His truth and chose to meditate on verses that reminded me of His love and His power, and His faithfulness. I committed to staying in a constant state of prayer, holding on to Him for all that I was worth until He provided the relief I needed. It was in those times I came to understand that intimacy with God doesn't come out of denying myself of food, out of being a perfect Christian, or out of having a perfect recovery. It came out of minute by minute decisions to fully trust and obey God in the face of powerful urges that are a part of eating disorders. Intimacy with God became a reality in my struggles, not something I hoped might attain in the future. How cool is that? It came from hanging on to Him as hard as I had to, for as long as it took. God faithfully rode those waves of temptation and empowered me to stand firm when everything in me wanted to cave. It was freeing to come to grips with the truth that God never expected perfection, He simply desired me to trust Him enough to invite Him into the struggle.

I know from God's word that I am not alone in the struggle for there is no temptation that is not common to man. That means every reader reading this is struggling with temptation of some sort. Some may have even made a list of their own rules they think will help them overcome sin, only to be filled with shame again and again because they fail. Let me ask you the question Jesus asked the man and that my counselor friend asked me, "Do you want to get well?" I wonder what might happen if you give up the rules you have devised and let Jesus join you in your struggle. I wonder how your life might be different if in the middle of the struggle you reached out to a safe person who can help you get out of your own head and help you remember that your Jesus is near. I wonder what might happen if the next time temptation hits, you were to hold on to the Savior for dear life and let His love, His grace, and His strength wash over you. I believe that you, too, will find that Jesus will provide all you need to have the victory you desire. Starve the shame monster that tries to tells you different for the cross, itself, points to the faithfulness of our God in the face of our sin. Do you want to get well?

Have we Failed in our Responsibilities

The Kavanaugh hearings has been hard on our country, especially those who have experienced sexual trauma. The hearings showed us just how ill equipped our nation is to handle the impact of the "Me, too, movement. Many of us were glued to our televisions as Dr. Blasey Ford and Bret Kavanaugh testified before a Judicial committee. Many had already made up their minds and few opinions were swayed by what we heard.

As someone who serves survivors, I found her testimony and demeanor in line with those who are in the early stages of facing past trauma. At the same time, I found myself wanting to believe him, too. Some felt that the gaps in her memories proved she was lying. Yet, our minds are not video cameras, documenting every detail in our lives. Memories are fluid and impacted by our interpretations of the events we experience. They are also impacted by what others tell us, by what we tell ourselves,by how we process those events, and even by our belief systems. When we feel powerless and experience an event as traumatic, some details are seared into the brain and others are forgotten.

Right after 9/11 some people were asked to write down what they experienced. Years later some of them were asked to write down what they remembered about those days and they found that two accounts written by the same person could be different. One might write in their first account that they were on the street with a friend watching as the towers fell and in the second account write they were home, watching the event on TV and called their friend. When some were shown what they originally wrote, they said they didn't know why they would have written what they did in the first account. Maybe their memories changed so they could feel safer or could have a sense of distance from the horrific event they experienced. 

As I watched Kavanaugh testify, I saw the hurt written on his face as well as the pain on the face of his wife and I ached for them as much as I ached for Christine. None of them should have become pawns in our sick political system. I have been processing this and have come to the conclusion that maybe we as a nation are partly responsible for what happened on that day. We have failed to teach our kids to handle themselves appropriately and failed to call for change earlier. Most of all, I think we, as believers, have failed to teach our children God's design. 

Since the fall of Adam and Eve, relationships between men and women have been complicated and teens who begin to date and socialize just as their hormones start raging have little skills to navigate these new relationships. We haven't done a good job of equipping them or protecting them from themselves. Their brains are not fully developed and alcohol and drugs diminishes their impulse control and the ability to make godly, loving decisions and sometimes we are complicit in their use of substances that do that. Out of that comes situations in which an encounter can feel consensual to one and like an assault to another. We can't keep pretending that underage substance use and boyish behaviors are big problems. Some of us have simply been too trusting of our teens, leaving them unsupervised, trying to navigate the messiness of relationships without needed skills.    

At the time I was dating I knew guys who behaved the way Ford described Kavanaugh and his friends and I was warned by guys that there were guys who got girls drunk just to add notches to their headboards. I used that info to keep myself safe. Yet, gals were groped in the cafeteria line, guys let their junk hang out as they sunbathed in front of girl's dorms. And walks back to the dorm after late classes were scary, leaving us vulnerable to inappropriate names being shouted by a pack of men who congregated in front of the cafeteria. And dating more often than not turned into nights of guys constantly trying to push past  "No's!" 

Our culture has become even more sexualized and telling someone to stop or say, "No!" hasn't been enough for a very long time. We have strayed so far from God's design. God created Adam and Eve in His own image and they were naked and unashamed and related with the Him and each other with joy. They were unafraid and vulnerable and their sexuality was closely tied to their spirituality. But, Satan tempted them, promising they would become like the Creator and that hooked Eve. As Eve listened to his beguiling voice, she forgot she was a woman delicately created in the image of her God and she bit. Then Adam bit and they were instantly filled with shame and tried to cover it with leaves. As the Creator approached the leaves were inadequate to cover their shame and they hid. God confronted them, inviting them to repent. But Eve blamed the Serpent. Adam blamed Eve. And, then Adam blamed God. 

Their choice that day killed them spiritually and eventually physically. It also marred their ability to trust God and each other and put a chasm between their sexuality and spirituality as shown by the core of shame that had developed. Graciously, the  Creator reached out and clothed them in animal skins, picturing the Messiah who would save.    

As we fast forward past sad stories of jealousy, murder, sin, violence, and ugly dysfunctions, we find a barren couple, old in age, living in a culture that worshipped gods of fertility. The sacrifices given to appease these gods were virgin daughters taken by temple priests and babies who were burned as offerings. Sexuality was no longer used in its intended context became so perverted it ceased to be marked with love or integrity. The Creator told the old couple to separate themselves and go to a new land and He promised them a child. After a few lapses in trust and judgement God reaffirmed His covenant with them. At just the right time He gave them a child and they named him Laughter! Through the covenant the Creator revealed that He was God of life and He sought to heal the fracture between human sexuality and spirituality.

From the beginning sex has been a gift designed to take place in the covenant of marriage, which pictures the relationship Christ has with His church. God's plan called for sexual integrity as sex was designed to seal the covenant marriage. The Creator designed us with bodies that were different, his to be aroused by sight to insure pursuit and hers to be aroused by emotional intimacy to insure commitment. The Creator designed us to enjoy pleasure followed by a release of hormones that cause two people to be bonded into one, giving them a safe place to be vulnerable and real.

Our sexualized culture continues to drive wedges between sexuality and spirituality. Rampant porn is selfish, addicting, and doesn't reflect the Lord at all. Kids are growing up in fractured homes broken by sin, selfishness, violence, and perversion. Some are being sacrificed through sexual abuse. "Free sex" is destroying the part of us that is to bond with another. This is because to survive serial sex we disassociate from the bonding process that is take to place between spouses.

As believers we must teach our sons to be sexually pure and to date in Godly ways, challenging any sense of entitlement they might have. We must teach them that mistreating dates who say, "No," is abusive and challenge the bragging that follows sinful conquests. We must teach our sons to look at young women as creations of God, as daughters of the King, as sisters in Christ, and as potential spouses to be protected. We must teach them to hold virginity (theirs and another's) in high regard and treat it as something to be preserved, not robbed. We must teach them not to ask a girl for sex outside of marriage. We must stop saying, "Boys will be boys and men will be men!" Guys are not victims to their bodies. We must tell them that one out of three girls they date has been abused and to not treat them honorably can forever put him in the same class as her abusers. They need to understand their actions have consequences and can haunt them later and that what they do now has the potential to bless or harm their future spouse.   

We need to teach our daughters to walk with dignity and God-confidence that commands respect and proper treatment. We must love them so well that they are willing to walk away from ungodly relationships. We must teach them to walk with God in such a way they would not entice a young man to lust or enter a sexual relationship for a false sense of acceptance. We must teach our daughters their bodies were bought with the blood of Christ and are not theirs to give away outside of marriage. We must teach them their identity comes in being the daughter of the King, fully loved and accepted, not in losing their virtue to a guy she wants to hold on to.

We are responsible for what happened on that committee when we fail to model and teach these things to our children. We can't assume they learn them by osmosis. We need to model godly behaviors. Men to assume responsibility for their personal godliness and teach their sons to bounce their eyes instead of ogling girls they pass. Women need to model respect for men and teach their daughters to let God fill them, so they are not looking for love where it can't be found. We need to teach our children-the right of ownership over one's body, the importance of consent for every level of a relationship, and the beauty of covenant marriage and the role of sex within it. We also need to teach children to date in ways that honors God and each other. There is nothing wrong with desire, but they can either learn to let the desire grow into destructive lust that will result in anger and entitlement or they can use the desire to remind them to draw near to God who can enable to them to walk in a manner to which He has called them. 

We are also responsible for what happened in that committee when we have seen inappropriate things and stayed silent and didn't try to help. Some of the deepest wounds are felt when a survivor believes someone saw something turned away. Some were hurt when they tried to tell and were silenced. I think most of us can recall something we saw that caused us to feel uncomfortable and we chose in the moment to not make waves by confronting it or maybe we talked ourselves into believing what we saw wasn't really what we saw or we worried we saw it wrong. We need to pay attention and not be complicit through silence. The following is a link to a blog that describes what I mean in detail. (https://acestoohigh.com/2018/10/10/i-was-a-witness-to-serial-silence/)  

Some want this highly sexualized culture to advance. But, it has already has left us with an epidemic of depression, anxiety, high suicide rates, STD's, and babies being savagely sucked from wombs. We also have higher numbers of sexual abuse cases being reported along with kidnappings and people being trafficked against their will. And even in the midst of the sexual revolution we are still lonely, disconnected, and discontent, looking for something to fill our empty hearts. I believe what each of us really wants is the sacrificial love symbolized by a blood stained cross and the nail-scared hands of the Savior. Intimacy with Him feeds the deepest parts of our hearts and teaches us to love one another with a love that is long-lasting, committed, sacrificial, and binding. With that love we would have less situations like Judge Kavanaugh's to face. I hope we learn to be gracious to both Dr. Ford and Judge Kavanaugh no matter what we believe about them. I hope we rise to the call for needed change by accepting the fact that we can do better if we don't assume our sons and our daughters know how to navigate the messiness of their first relationships.     

Don't we want our young people to feel safe enough and strong enough and loved enough that they could choose to love another with all that they are, not just the fractured parts of themselves left by sinful choices. What would happen if we refused to let children be prematurely awakened sexually so that obedience to the Creator's plan felt right and was doable and offered deep soul connections that satisfied. Maybe if we took personal responsibility seriously we could turn this painful way we have had of developing relationships into one that is God honoring and leaves no room for accusations. I know...it is an idealist wish, but sitting by and doing nothing has done nothing to help. 

The Beauty of the Semicolon

Recently I wrote about the importance of the ampersand to me. Well, there is grammar symbol that is quite popular right now. This symbol is tiny, but the meaning behind the semicolon is huge. A semicolon is used in writing when an author could end a sentence, but chooses to keep going instead. It is a way of keeping one's thoughts informally separate, but connected. Project Semicolon began in 2013 when Amy Bleuel wanted to honor the father she lost to suicide. Even though she, herself, struggled with depression, she saw the semicolon as a symbol of hope. Soon others began using the semicolon symbol in recovery because they were fighting a battle with depression, addiction, self-injury, and suicidal thoughts and their will to continue on. The semicolon symbolized their belief that this is not the end, but a new beginning. Even faith-based organizations are beginning to refer to the semicolon as a way of telling others, "My story (Your story) isn't over!"

As a survivor I battled hard with depression, negative thoughts, and an unrelenting eating disorder that manifested in every possible way. I remember so many times feeling hopeless and wishing life would end to end the struggle, yet, choosing to hang on by a thread. And in choosing to hang on by a thread, I always found God was faithful to show me there was meaning in life after the hopelessness I experienced. And my story, His story in me, continued. 

As I've contemplated the whole movement of the semicolon I've realized the Scriptures are full of semicolons--you know those moments where those living the stories felt hopeless but God intervened with a God semicolon, providing hope, showing that the story continued. 

I don't know about you, but when I read about Eve with Adam by her side, talking with the Serpent, my chest tightens and everything in me wants to scream, "Stop! Don't listen to the Deceiver! Adam, stop her!" But she bit, and for a few moments I feel so hopeless. It could have been the end of the story, but God sought them out and sacrificed animals to clothe them, promising to send His Son to save them. And the Story continued.

In Genesis we read the story of Noah. The earth was full of sin and every thought of man was evil to the core. It was the end of the end, but God called on Noah to build and ark because He was going to judge the earth. Noah obeyed and through his actions He preached. Then the sky darkened, God shut the door, and the boat rocked as the floods came, destroying all life outside the ark. Eventually the lands dried and God gave Noah and his family a rainbow, a visual semicolon in the sky, to remind them of His mercy and grace and to remind us He saves His own through judgment. And the Story continued.

Oh, and there was Joseph, who was favored by his father, but despised by his brothers who sold him into slavery. He wound up in Egypt and chose to live a life full of integrity, only to be falsely accused and imprisoned. I am sure he felt like he reached the period in his life story several times; but each time God preserved his life and gave him dreams Joseph alone could interpret, and as a result he was able to preserve the life of the Egyptians through a long drought. Then one day it became obvious that the period he thought had ended his old life, when his brothers sold him, was really another semicolon in God's story. God used what his brothers meant for evil to preserve the life of Joseph and the nation of Israel. And the Story continued.    

There was Naomi who lost her husband and both of her sons while living in a foreign land during a drought. She grieved long and hard and the grief turned into depression and bitterness. She returned to her homeland for the end of her story; but God gives her a semicolon in the form of faithful daughter-in-law who was accepted by a kinsman redeemer and provided Naomi with heirs to love and a grandchild to be in the lineage of the Savior. And the Story continued. 

There was Elijah who God called to confront Ahab and the prophets of Baal who were stealing the hearts of His people. Elijah challenged them to a spiritual duel. The 450 prophets of Baal set their altar and called on their god to ignite the altar. They cried out from morning until noon and their god didn't answer. So, they continued to cry aloud and frantically cut themselves with swords and lances to prove their devotion, and he didn't answer. To the people who were following Baal and to the people who were torn between Jehovah and Baal it had to have been a moment they thought their story was ending; but God revealed Himself as Elijah called the people to himself. He built an altar in the name of the Lord with twelve stones and surrounded it with a deep trench. He put wood on the altar and cut the bull in pieces and laid it on the altar. Next he had them pour 12 jars of water over the offering, saturating the offering and wood and filling the trench with water. Elijah called upon the Lord so the people would recognize Him and turn their hearts back to Him and the fire of the Lord consumed the burnt offering, the wood, the stones, the dust, and the water. God showed Himself to be the true God of Israel. And the story continued.

There are other semicolon stories we could consider. There is the story of King David who had several moments he thought his life would end at the hand of Saul. He thought his kingship could end in moral failure when he abused his power, both taking another man's wife and murdering him in the aftermath. Emotional hurts like the death of his son and the problems between his children could have eaten the hope out of any parents’ heart, but God intervened, calling him the man after God's own heart. We could look at the story of Esther, Daniel and friends, and other prophets sent to Israel to warn them of sin and judgement. But instead, I want to move to the most significant semicolon in history, Jesus. 

Jesus came on the scene after a long period of silence in which God provided no prophets. I can't help but wonder if some feared God was done with them and viewed the long silence as a period to God's dealing with Israel. Then, God gave them what at first seemed like an unassuming semicolon in the form of a babe born in a manger. He grew. He taught. He called disciples. He confronted hypocritical, spiritually dead religious leaders. He cast out demons. He calmed angry seas. He healed the sick. He gave hope until He was taken captive, illegally tried, stripped, beaten, mocked, crowned with thorns, spit upon, and hung upon a cross for all the world to see. The world grew dark as our sin was laid on Him. And He died, but God! God, finding His sacrificial death a satisfactory payment for our sin raised Him from the grave, giving us all the living hope of the semicolon. 

The living hope of the semicolon means there is no sin too big or too dirty His blood can't cover it. Redemption means there is still a sense of purpose and meaning after moral failure. There is still life to be lived with joy after harsh painful losses. There is hope after each and every relapse. There is meaning for life lived with the anguish of mental illness. There is hope after broken relationships through reconciliation or with the invitation to repentance and restoration. And even in a life racked with a terminal illness there is hope, because for the believer death is the semicolon and the rest of the story is lived in glory--glory where there will be no more pain, no more sin, and no more tears. The beauty of the semicolon is that it places us face to face with Jesus who is the author of the redemption stories we live. 

Satisfied at Last!

"How lovely is your dwelling place, O LORD Almighty!

My Soul yearns, even faints, for the courts of the LORD;

My heart and my flesh cry out for the living God."

Psalm 84:1-2

     I am in recovery from an eating disorder that I have had for a long time. I restricted my intake of food, compulsively ate, and compulsively exercised. Looking back at my  recovery, I think the hardest thing for me was that there were times the compulsion to overeat or begin a binge was absolutely overwhelming. It would start in the middle of the afternoon. When I resisted a binge in the early stages of recovery, I found I could often resist until bed time and I would be exhausted from experiencing such a long period of angst that the desire to binge and the desire not to binge at the same time caused. When I chose to give in to the binge, I found there was instant relief from the angst even before I took the first bite of food. I felt so much shame over that until I came to understand more about the brain and realized my pleasure center was activated by the anticipation that followed my decision and not just the food itself.

     Then there were those other days that I hated the worst. I would crave something and I would choose to eat it only to find that it didn't satisfy. Then I would crave something else, only to find it didn't satisfy either. I could spend a whole afternoon looking for that thing to help satisfy me, only to find at the end of the day that there was no satisfaction in any of the foods, only a great deal of shame for not being more committed to recovery and wiser with my choices. There was shame for not being strong enough to resist temptation. And the biggest shame of all, was for not remembering God in the moment of temptation and crying out to Him for the strength and wisdom I needed to have victory. 

     I met others in recovery and found out that it didn't matter what it was that they craved, they had all pretty much experienced what I had. Oh, they may yearned for a cigarette, a drink, drugs, sex, a view of pornography, a unhealthy relationship, more power, accolades, more new clothes, to be even busier, or a host of other things any of us can find ourselves yearning for. At the end of the day all of of us were filled with the same toxic shame. Many believed as I did that we were defective for having a issue of compulsion and not overcoming it. 

     I understood for a long time my eating disorder was out of control and it was sin. No one ever had to confront me with that truth! I felt shame that my problem was centered around food. Then it hit me one day that the first sin Eve committed in the garden was driven by her lust of what was beautiful to behold, appealing to her physical appetite and tastes, and appealing to her desire for power. I began to pay real close attention to what and when I craved anything. A conversation, a binge, a compulsion to over exercise, shop, etc. and over time I realized how often I was just seeking relief from boredom, emotions, loneliness, powerlessness, or exhaustion. At other times I was trying to fill the emptiness that resided deep in my soul. 

     I paid close attention to the desires I had, but that were never satisfied and realized that they were often things that pointed me away from God. I saw that when I could spend time with people and have conversations about God, I didn't crave as much. When I had lunch with a friend and God was the center of our conversation, I didn't overeat. When it was a shallow conversation, I often left feeling unsatisfied by the encounter. 

     When I came across the above verse I thought, "What if, what if God designed us to yearn, which in today's language would be to crave? What if the fall and our tendency to sin had distorted our appetites in such away we forget it is for Him that we yearn? What if we have forgotten He alone can satisfy our deepest yearnings of which we might not even be aware? What if when we are feeling dissatisfied, we take that feeling as a sign to begin to look to God who made us with our individual cravings and acknowledge that the craving is distorted and ask Him to daily remind us that in our heart of hearts we were made to yearn for Him?" Maybe those who struggle with addictions and compulsions have been given an extra dose of the yearnings and that those yearnings were misplaced. At first glance that seems kind of unfair. But the truth is, if we understand that we are craving time with our Savior, we will be driven to His arms where there is deep soul satisfaction! If there is truth that those of us who struggle with compulsions were given an extra dose of cravings, then we have the potential to be driven to more intimacy with the Savior than those who don't experience such strong cravings.   

     Maybe, no not maybe, certainly the answer for those of us who yearn for the wrong things is to get to the place we know the Savior so well that when we let our mind go in neutral, it automatically goes to Him. If we experience enough satisfaction in Him, we may begin to recognize those yearnings we despised in recovery are really a blessing as they drive us to Him who loves us so deeply that He died for us. Oh, how I want to be that woman whose soul yearns so much for Jesus that my heart and my flesh will continually cry out for God, not the things of this world that never satisfy the deep yearning in my soul. Oh, that at times when life leaves me feeling shaky and weak I want to get to the point I cry out to the one who can strengthen my spirit and give me peace and joy no matter what is going on in my little corner of this world. The times that I have cried out to Him, I have experienced joy replacing this ugly toxic shame that often comes with disordered sinful patterns as my heart and my flesh cry out to the LORD Almighty, the Living God.