Freedom!

I am running. My arms pump rhythmically with each stride and I feel the power of my legs propelling me forward as the ground beneath my feet is devoured with astonishing speed. I am amazed by the strength in my legs as my feet hit the ground and push off for the next stride, and I feel no fatigue, no windedness.

I am, of course, dreaming.

The running dream is a recurring one and shockingly vivid. I run, not out of fear, but for the sheer joy of it (which alerts me, even in my sleep-state that I am, indeed, dreaming). The dream almost always starts with me playing in a softball game (which I have never done) and as I hit the ball (again, dreeeam-ing!) and begin to run the bases I am suddenly aware of the effortlessness with which I am running. I am so amazed by this that as I hit second base, I abandon my friends and the game and take off across the outfield, over hills and through this lush beautiful country landscape, all the while energized by the fact that the strides come with remarkable ease and with no complaint from my lungs at all.

It is freedom and even in my sleep I feel joy from it.

Then I awaken and throw my feet over the side of the bed. I glance at my crooked arthritic toe and marvel at how it participated in powering me pain-free through that wheat field the night before. My knees creak and my back is stiff and as I sit there on the edge of the bed I close my eyes and try to remember the feeling of the wind in my face and the exhilaration of propelling myself along at such speed with so little effort. I try to remember the strength and power in my legs and that feeling of freedom.

My prayer throughout this journey is not for a skinny version of an old me. It is a prayer that I will develop a freedom in food. Not a freedom to eat whatever I want and never gain an ounce (which would only exacerbate my preoccupation with that chocolate-frosted cake donut) but rather a freedom from obsession with food. A freedom that will allow me to plan meals and stick to the plan without pining for the cream-sauce laden selections that contribute to my love-affair with elastic waistbands. A freedom that will help me see food as a fuel and not a trusted friend. A freedom that will grant me the energy to propel myself effortlessly into focusing on other things and not my next meal.

A freedom that can only come when I submit my every appetite to the Lord and trade my obsession with food for an obsession with Him.

You may wonder why I have to make this into a “God-thing.” Exercise a little discipline. Exercise a little, period. You might think “You know, Cat, if you’d just eat less and move more, you could find yourself sliding comfortably into those size 6 skinny jeans without gettin’ all 'Jesus crazy’ about the thing.” That works for a lot of people. And yes, it would even work for me. On the surface.

But I wouldn’t be free.

I don’t want to just trade an eating obsession for an obsession with not eating. Or an obsession with exercising (which is quite unlikely to happen in my case). Or an obsession with shopping or being a perfect mom or Facebook or Pinterest or gaming or any of the things that we seek out as a way to bring a little fun or meaning to our lives. None of those things are bad things. Some of them – exercise, especially – are good things,  even necessary things. But obsession with any of them does not bring true freedom. Only slavery to a new thing.

• An obsession with not eating or exercise leads me into a preoccupation with my appearance.
• An obsession with shopping leads me to be fixated on my stuff.
• An obsession with being the perfect mom drives me to view my child as little more than an indicator of my own competence

Freedom from my corpulent backside does not necessarily mean I’m free.

 

There is only one safe obsession, only one that draws my attention away from myself and on to something that truly matters in light of eternity.

Jesus.

In Made to Crave Lysa TerKuerst says:

 

God never intended for us to want anything more than we want Him. Just the slightest glimpse into His Word proves that. Look at what the Bible says about God’s chosen people, the Israelites, when they wanted food more than they wanted God: “They willfully put God to the test by demanding the food they craved” (Psalm 78:18). 

I’m so tired of craving things that don’t matter. Of obsessing over things that hold no eternal significance. Of fixating on things that just continue to promote more “me” and less God.

I'm replacing my old cravings and my old obsessions with an earnest devotion to Jesus.  When I want something "just to taste it," I read the Word instead.  When I want to toss my grilled chicken roll-up for a cheeseburger and fries, I pray.  When my emotions take me hostage and demand a ransom of ice cream, I get on my knees and cry out to God.

 

Therefore the Lord longs to be gracious to you,

And therefore He waits on high to have compassion on you.

For the Lord is a God of justice;

How blessed are all those who long for Him. Isaiah 30:18

God doesn't keep a tally sheet of my failures.  When I call on Him, He doesn't remind me "Of the 38 times you were stressed out last month, you called Ben & Jerry's 37 times and Me only once." 

He longs to be gracious to me.  He waits to have compassion on me.  And when I long for HIm, I am blessed.

In the Lord there is compassion.  There is blessing.  There is hope.  And there is freedom!

Stupid

The other morning I was getting dressed to take my 4-year-old son to preschool and he walked in, looked at me, poked me in the stomach and asked with genuine curiosity “Mommy, why are you so fat?”

I don’t remember the last time I felt so disappointed in myself.

I answered simply and honestly. “Well, Carson, sometimes Mommy eats too much and sometimes I don’t make good choices about what I eat. I’ve done that for a long time and now I’m fat.”  

This seemed to satisfy him and he said “Oh” and after a brief pause “I’m not fat.”

I looked at his skinny little body, a testimony to his general disinterest in food. “I know, honey. You are just right the way you are.” And then a sudden thought occurred to me “Carson?”

“Yes, Mommy?”

“Please don’t EVER ask anyone else why they are fat or tell anyone else that they are fat.”

“Why?”

“Because some people don’t really like being fat. It’s embarrassing. And saying ‘You’re fat!’ to someone might hurt their feelings and make them sad.”  

“Is it like saying ‘stupid’?” (the other thing I’ve said never to say to anyone).

“Yes, honey, it’s exactly like ‘stupid.’"

The worst thing about battling my weight is that I feel stupid. I know it’s my own fault. I am not one of these people for whom delusion actually allows them to say with great sincerity “no, really, I barely eat a thing, but I still don’t lose a pound.” As I glance at my Facebook page with its barrage of updates detailing workout regimens, pictures of so-and-so’s latest healthy dinner recipe, and check-ins at the local gym, I am thoroughly disgusted with myself. I am painfully aware that every unfortunate bulge on my body has been bought and paid for with countless instances of abandoned discipline and bad decision making.

What’s wrong with me? Why is my self-discipline so non-existent? Why can I not make “nothing tastes as good as thin feels” resonate with me? Even in the midst of weight loss success, it seems as if I’m just one rough day away from total complete relapse.

It was during my last briefly-blog-chronicled attempt at tackling this monster that I recognized the Spiritual component to my issues with weight. It was then that I recognized that my “go to” and my cravings need to be directed to something different. They need to be redirected toward God.

In addition, I also need to be very cognizant of the enemy’s role in derailing my efforts. Satan LOVES it when I feel stupid, because when I feel stupid I am very vulnerable to all the other lies he wants to whisper in my ear.

You’ll never really change.

You’re too weak to keep this up.

Even if you lose the weight you’ll still just be a fat girl in a thin girl’s body.

Satan will take advantage of my vulnerability and he will fuel the fires of self-loathing with lies. Feeling stupid keeps me powerless. It keeps me defeated. It keeps me paralyzed. It keeps me fat.

I need to take those lies and replace them with the truth of scripture.

You’ll never really change.
In all these things we are more than conquerors through him who loved us. Romans 8:37

You’re too weak to keep this up.
But I say, walk by the Spirit, and you will not gratify the desires of the flesh. Galatians 5:16

Even if you lose the weight you’ll still just be a fat girl in a thin girl’s body.
Therefore, if anyone is in Christ, he is a new creation. The old has passed away; behold, the new has come. 2 Corinthians 5:17

The truth of the Gospel is more powerful than any lie the enemy tries to tell. It's true - I can’t do this on my own. If I’m depending on self-discipline and willpower to put me into single-digit sizes, I best prepare myself for yet another disappointment. I cannot manage this in my own power.

But I don’t have to.

It’s not about me trying harder, doing better, or pulling myself up by my bootstraps until I find that "thin within" me. It’s about submitting my heart – and my appetite – to the Lord. It’s about pulling down the food-shaped idols once and for all and recognizing that they don’t deserve my worship, God does. And it’s about realizing that the power that raised Jesus from the grave is the power that can enable me to be victorious in this (Ephesians 1:19-20).

I leave you with this tonight. It is such a great encouragement to me!
Bless the Lord, O my soul,
and forget not all his benefits,
who forgives all your iniquity,
who heals all your diseases,
who redeems your life from the pit,
who crowns you with steadfast love and mercy,
who satisfies you with good
so that your youth is renewed like the eagle's. Psalm 103:2-5

Overcoming Cream Sauce...Take 2

I am about to re-embark on the journey I began several years ago. A journey I started with great intentions and greater hopes, a journey that I fully intended would take me to a new place where special occasions requiring a nice dress and possibly a photo didn’t send me into fits of self-loathing. A place of understanding as to why my roughest days seem to end up in the bottom of a gallon of ice cream and my best days seem to justify the same, the only difference being whether or not I care that some of it ended up on my shirt. A journey that I never finished and in truth barely even started.
 

A journey that I intend will leave me 50 pounds lighter than I am right now.  

I was a little hesitant to blog this time around. After my last failure I was feeling a little embarrassed. It was as if I’d planned a big cruise, bought the appropriate cruise-wear and brand new luggage, stocked up on Dramamine and magnetic bracelets and told my friends to meet me at the launch point. Then the day of the cruise arrives. The sun is shining, the mood is festive and I am on board the ship ready to embark on the adventure of a lifetime. I lean over the railing, catch the attention of my beloved friends and wave farewell with great enthusiasm as the horn blares it’s Bon Voyage and the ship pulls slowly away. Then quietly, I slip from the crowd at the rail and make my way to the far side of the ship where I climb into a little life boat, lower myself into the choppy sea, row to shore and slip into an all-you-can-eat seafood buffet. Meanwhile, my friends, who’d waved their supportive goodbyes, are envisioning my fantastic adventure, anxious to see the miraculous transformation that is sure to take place. Little do they know I didn’t even stay on the ship. I did the easier thing and made my way quietly back home. But this “home” is uncomfortable. This home is embarrassing. This home is a place of shame and self-loathing. But this home is familiar and I’ve been here so long that I hardly know how to rearrange the furniture, much less move to somewhere new.

It’s not really about the food. It’s about my “go to.” My “go to” is simply what I “go to” when I’m stressed or angry or sad or celebrating or bored. We all have a “go to.” Some of us exercise or run (why, oh why can’t that be mine!), some of us head out on the town for a night out looking for attention or physical intimacy, Some of us drink or use drugs, some of us bury ourselves in our work or our roles as a mom, and some of us eat. And eat. Aaaand eat.

In the past I’ve tried to resolve my weight problem by making better food choices and simply eating healthier foods in smaller portions. While this sensible approach certainly reduces my dress size it doesn’t resolve the “go to” problem that got me into double-digit sizes in the first place. As a result, I never manage to stick with the program. I can change my behavior for a little while, but since I’ve not changed my motivations, eventually the scale ticks up again and I end up right where I started.

It is at our “go to” that the physical intercepts the Spiritual. God made me with a “go to” but He wants my “go to” to be HIM and not french fries. He wants me in His Word when I’m stressed, He wants to fill me with His peace when I’m angry, He wants to meet me on my knees when I’m sad, to shower me with His love when I’m celebrating and He wants to fill those moments of boredom with something to satisfy my soul, not my taste buds.

There is another problem as well. It finally hit me during my last foray into weight-loss. I was doing some personal “brainstorming” on what I would “reward” myself with if I lost 20 pounds. A new dress? A new bag to haul my computer and books? A trip to the spa? Nope. You know what I came up with? You know what I wanted more than any of those things? A donut. A cake donut with chocolate frosting. I actually thought “When I lose twenty pounds I am going to go get 2 cake donuts with chocolate frosting and I’ll wash them down with an iced cappuccino.”  Embarrassing.  Pathetic.  But it made me realize that what I am eating is really only a symptom of a bigger problem. Of all the things I could use to reward myself, nothing was as appealing to me as FOOD.

I have a serious craving problem and my butt is just one gigantic symptom of it.

Most weight-loss plans assume that we are fat because we simply don’t know when we are full. They suggest foods that make us feel fuller longer and offer healthy options to satisfy our cravings. Two things make this approach an epic fail in my world:

1. If I want McDonald’s French fries, my hunger or fullness is pretty much irrelevant. And I can tell you that I have never been too full to thoroughly enjoy a piece of key lime pie.
2. Whenever I hear someone say “If you crave something sweet, eat an apple” I want to punch them in the throat. When I am craving something sweet, an apple doesn’t cut it. Seriously. That is the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard. I can eat a dozen apples but I’m not happy until I’ve eaten a pint of Ben and Jerry’s New York Super Fudge Chunk ice cream. The whole pint. By myself. If that kind of craving doesn’t make any sense to you, then please don’t offer your advice on how to deal with them. You really have no idea what you’re talking about. (Do I sound bitter? Okay, maybe just a little. Maybe I’m just a little angry that I didn’t end up with the “constant exercise” craving).

When I discovered Lysa Terkeurst’s book Made to Crave I felt as if I’d finally discovered someone who understood my struggle. She says “Not once in my life have I ever craved a carrot stick” and she admits that she can feel completely full after a meal “and still crave chocolate pie for dessert.” THIS is someone who gets me.  THIS is someone who gets me and has won her battle with food. THIS is someone who gets me, has won her battle with food, and recognizes that there is a significant Spiritual component to the thing.

She says:

I believe God made us to crave. Now before you think this is some sort of cruel joke by God, let me assure you that the object of our craving was never supposed to be food or other things people find themselves consumed by…Yes, we were made to crave – long for, want greatly, desire eagerly and beg for – God. Only God. But Satan wants to do everything possible to replace our craving for God with something else (p. 20-21)

I’ll be referencing Lysa’s book off and on throughout this journey because she has identified the heart of my problem with food. I crave it more than I crave God. I have given food a place of prominence in my life that should be reserved for God alone and until I turn that around my weight loss successes are going to continue to be only temporary.

So, I’m back on the proverbial ship and I’m in for another adventure. I’m sure there will be times that I’ll be tempted to jump into one of those life-boats and row for shore, but I think I’ve found my “want to” and I really, really don’t want to be at home in those big ol’ pants anymore. By the grace of God, I’ll need a new wardrobe by spring.

Till next time, Bon Voyage!