Tag Archives: hope

Authenticity, Courage, My Hubby, and DtC

For a year and a half I’ve let it all “hang out” here at A BeNew Journey. I’ve admitted my struggles with weight, with cravings, with grace. I’ve invited you to taste the hopes and successes even as I’ve invited you to walk through the struggles with me. In return I’ve been given the grace of wonderful support from you, my readers, friends, and fellow bloggers. You’ve cheered me on, wept with me, and shared your stories, too. Thank you.

This weekend my husband did something incredible. He began his own journey of public authenticity.1597648_10202467803671428_1674233776_o Over the years he’s allowed me to share bits of our story, but on Sunday he wrote a blog post that gives a glimpse into one of his most personal areas of struggle and pain, and he talks about how he is processing out of old paradigms to overcome.

Marking my weight loss journey through this blog has been a bit of an unveiling so I can succeed. It’s taken courage to talk about this place of shame in my years of obesity and courage to invite you into my successes. Jerry’s latest two blogs, Before and After with the DtC Movement Part I and II, are the beginning of his own courageous unveiling. I gave him permission to start with my story. I was thrilled when he used it for a springboard for his own.

Please take a moment to visit his new website, DtC Zone, to catch a glimpse of how finding the courage to face financial struggles can be a launchpad into hope and success.

I’m proud of my courageous husband. I’ve watched with awe as he has fought for the last few years to enter a place of pain and push through to the other side. He grabbed hold of a new way of thinking. Once he grasped this new paradigm, he then had to learn to walk it out. He is doing so with determination and faith, looking consistently to His God for direction and asking God to teach him to be the provider he desires to be for the family he loves.

Jerry and I are very excited about the DTC movement and how this new concept combines a tried and true method of producing income with the innovation and opportunities of this new age of social media.

I invite you to follow Jerry’s blog. To glimpse his own journey of transformation as you have mine.  If you intrigued, then why not follow the links he’s provided and consider not only watching, but entering this journey with him.

I entrust you into the hands of the man who has taken good care of me. I know Jerry will be faithful and loyal to those of you who choose to journey with him. His track record is proven by the loyalty, devotion, and faithfulness the kids and I have enjoyed the last 25 years.

Naked and (UN)ashamed

Don’t you hate naked dreams? You know the ones. You’re in a public place and suddenly IMAG3123realize you forgot to get dressed. You’re horrified and afraid of being seen.

I had one of those dreams the other night.

What’s really funny is that in my dream there was a young man who upset me. We were in a crowd of people, and he kept doing irritating things. Then he started stripping!

The next scene of my dream I ran upstairs, looking for my father to ask him to deal with the chaos this young man was causing. But before I could find my dad, I looked down and realized that I was naked! I ran and found a sheet to hide in and wrapped myself in it, weeping.

When I awoke from this dream I immediately equated it to my life, especially the stuff I’ve been processing the last few weeks. When I wrote my Tension Tummy post I spoke about how boxes and legalism have hurt me and a lot of other people. I ended with these words:

I’ve had ample opportunity to process legalism and judgment lately. . . My human self comes up with all kinds of wonderful ways to fight . . . Instead I ask God to shed Truth and Grace where it is needed.

Including in the ugly remnants of legalism and religiosity in me.

See, my heart is to be loving and grace-filled, but I never perform up to my own desires. When I am hurt, or worse yet when someone I love is hurt, judgement and legalism are right there, ready to take up space in my attitude.

I think my dream is a reminder that while I am passionate about speaking out against boxes and legalism, I can never do it without that voice inside reminding me that I, too, am not perfect.

I have not yet let go of judgment or stepped out of boxes to the extent I want to. My mind is ahead of me even in the progress I have made. Often my thoughts and emotions don’t keep up with what I believe to be true. Sometimes even my actions contradict the grace I believe in.

I’m a work in progress.

There’s something in the Bible that talks about Jesus giving us robes of righteousness. That is the only answer to my naked problem. My raw, naked faults will be exposed from time to time. Hopefully I’m processing forward and becoming more loving, not less. But no matter how I long to be perfect, I’m just not.

That’s when I remember Jesus never left me naked and exposed. Long ago He gave me that righteousness robe to cover all the humanity I wish the world never saw. So when I feel hurt by my own lack, I look to HIM, to HIS fullness. To the way He cares, forgives, and covers me with the Good that is Himself.

Then I grab hold of His hand and hope I can listen to His Voice in a way that helps me be more loving and less judgmental the next time.

It’s not my desire to take away from anything I said in that Tension Tummy post. I believe those words to be true. It just seems important to say that even in my passion for freedom and against religiosity I have to say, “Me, too.”

I too am trying to find my way out of legalism.

I too have boxes I wish I could step out of.

I too fail at this grace thing, no matter how much I wish I didn’t.

Thank God HE is always there to remind me that failure is not the end of the story. That my missteps are forgiven. That He will help me journey down that road to loving more like He does.

Grateful

After the intensity of yesterday’s post I long for the simple again.

Just the everyday thoughts and remembering the everyday stuff that makes life beautiful.20140605_224323

Like the grown kids popping into visit and my refrigerator being full enough to feed them all, no problem.

Full. Abundant. Lots of left-overs. Fresh stuff, too.

Like the cool air on my bare arms last night as hubby agreed to walk at a nearby park. The clouds were cotton on blue and by the time we left the pink tinged them with glory. We bumped into some longtime friends who were at the lake fishing. Our youngest son rode his long board, weaving in and out of the those who, like us, strolled the sidewalk.

Just beautiful, simple living.

Hubby and I went grocery shopping.

We found a great sale and bought meat. Chicken breasts. roasts. steak.

And we COULD. We could pay for it.

How many times have I taken such simple graces for granted?

Today blueberries arrived on my doorstep. I’m dreaming of blueberry pancakes. There’s already real whipped cream waiting in the fridge to top them.

The roses are beginning to bloom, and I planted bright fuchsia and dark purple petunias. Would you believe a few pansies lived all winter long in my flowerbed, right through the snow, and have raised their pretty faces to greet me?

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I put a bright pink Gerber daisy next to them, a feast for my eyes each time I travel my own sidewalk.

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I’m walking again, and those few pounds that tried to steal my weight loss are beginning to recede. I am empowered. Stronger when I walk.

My new-to-me $25 dishwasher is amazing. After the week and a half of hand washing I’m especially grateful. And it holds more dishes and gets them cleaner than the old one did. And after a week and a half of the chaos of repairing the damaged floor and having clutter everywhere, my living room and kitchen feel huge. Clutter makes me claustrophobic, but oh the joy of putting everything in its place again! It makes an ordinary, familiar room seem new.

20140605_224433-1Fresh mint and lavender now grace my glass water pitchers, picked from plants next to the driveway. Sometimes I add lemon slices.

This isn’t a fancy post. No careful wording, no effort to ease into a poetic feel, no going deep.

Just real.

Just me.

Just thankful.

Just hoping you and I can grab a little joy and rest in a little beauty.

Noticing the little things.

 

 

 

 

Tension Tummy

I’ve had this in my drafts folder for a while. Wondering if I am ready to speak out so directly on this topic. As one who has been wounded by a judgmental circle, I do not want to come off as judgmental in my post. I am also concerned about hurting those who are fighting their way out, as well as realizing that some of my comments will likely intersect with venues who have published my work in the past. I don’t know if my words will be acceptable, if my thoughts here will close doors or open them. In the past I have been very careful to write FOR grace, FOR freedom rather than speak out AGAINST the legalism. I hoped my caution would allow me a voice, even in the places where legalism seemed to be a stronghold. So it is with concern I share this post, though I have worked hard to offer it in grace.

As a child I often had tension stomachaches. I rarely get them as an adult, but the last few weeks I’ve had several. Every time the ache grew out of brushing up against legalism once again.

Legalism:

Legalism happens in religion, but it also happens in society in general. We label based on our own box and our preconceived notions (correct or not) of how another person fits into our structure of “right.”

A couple of quick examples: One of my sons wore a thick, cross necklace and chain (he made it himself of chainmail) and a red, white, and blue T-shirt that said something like, “One nation under God,” to the first day at a public high school. He found out later that one of his (now) best friends thought he was “scary!”

Huh? Because of a cross and a patriotic T-shirt? Really? My gentle giant?

I start with this example because most of the following examples are religious–Christians who judge others based on personal boxes of religion, and rather than focus only on that sect of belief, I want to show that all of us, religious or not, tend to have our boxes.

I suspect even those of us who don’t want to have a box have one, maybe a little bigger or differently shaped than the next, but a box that could use some expansion. (I keep stepping out of mine only to discover that while the box has expanded or changed shape, there’s yet another one I’m in!) Often the boxes are built because we are afraid.

I’ve seen great destruction from religious legalism, not only in community and personal relationships, but in my own heart. My own efforts to live up to the religious box I bought into as a young women grew into intense feelings of failure when I couldn’t be perfect. Inadequacy grew into self-hatred. The grace of a Loving God rescued me from a self-devised path to devastation.

The recent stomachaches come because I know this pain of the boxes, the unnecessary burdens box-dwellers carry in themselves and put on others. Often those hardest on others are also hard on themselves, so caught up in their need to perform perfectly that they can’t see their own faults or can’t accept it when they do. Sometimes legalists become so convinced they are right that their rightness somehow justifies acting outside of Jesus’s greatest commandment to love.

There is a lot of negative press lately about the extreme circles of patriarchy in homeschooling. Some of the leaders of this movement have recently been accused of everything from molestation of underage women to affairs. What makes this especially crazy is these are the same men who wrote and spoke (and made their income) from teaching on the “godly” family. (Ugh. Stomachache happening again.)

As I homeschooled my daughter we brushed against a lot of judgement in the extended homeschool community from people who bought into this ideology at differing levels.The fact we believed in higher education for our daughter was enough to bring judgement from some. Others wrote her off because she wore makeup and talked to boys. Based on factors such as theses people assumed they knew her, and put her on their bad list without taking the time to see her heart.

At one point I was asked to do a consistent column for a homeschooling magazine. As I was considering the offer, my daughter, then grown and out of the homeschool environment, told some specific stories of how the adults in that culture treated her. I had known she was hurt. I had not heard the specifics, which were outrageous. Furious, I went outside to do yard work, hoping the physical effort would calm me. I fumed at God as I work, “You want me to write for THOSE people?”

His response? “Who do you think needs grace more?”

I remembered how legalism nearly destroyed me. I told them I would write.

In reflection of that time I’m sad my girl had to endure this extreme culture, but I like how it shaped her into a stronger woman who goes to battle for the hearts of others, begging the world to stop judging from the outside. She champions the misunderstood, the held down, the ostracized, whether pierced and tattooed or wearing jumper dress, skirt to the ankles.

To be fair, the public school world also put her in a box she didn’t belong in. There was a lot of hurt from that side, too, but it didn’t dig as deeply, damage as hard. Maybe because we expect to be loved by those who claim to be in God’s family more than by those who don’t think much about it.

One of the influencers in the patriarchy world who recently came under fire was popular in conservative Christian circles when I was a teen. It was his ministry I had to forgive in my 30s when I realized how much of my personal pain and dysfunction was related to his teaching and to the idea that following his prescribed religion had been equated in my mind with following God.  Thankfully, our Loving Father called me away from all that. Showed me that the very things/people I sought to honor in order to please Him were idols. That the ideals I strove to live up to weren’t even HIS. That this stuff actually held me BACK from a full and beautiful experience of His heart, of walking in relationship with Him, and serving in the ways He called.

Stomachaches over legalism boxes come in the macro and micro places of my life. I recently posted a tribute on facebook to some friends I admire. Right on my page, an old friend from another state posted a negative comment based on the particular rules this person adheres to. I was sickened. This person didn’t know the people or the situation but felt so “right” it justified in plopping an unkind, negative opinion right onto that page to educate the rest of us. I doubt there was an ounce of thought given to the pain that comment had the power to inflict.

I deleted the comment, but did not “unfriend” my friend. I still believe in my friend and seek to stay in relationship because I believe my friend to be trapped in a religious box, not to be an innately bad person.

And you know what? Once I was trapped.

And that box almost destroyed me.

So shouldn’t I have compassion and not only anger?

We humans like to tout our lists of appropriate behaviors. In the conservative homeschooling world the purity movement and its prescribed behaviors, ranging from ridiculous to wise, topped the list to set a standard of judgement. Different movements whether political or religious, have their own favorite standards of behavior.

Which is one reason this old world is so in need of a Savior who levels the playing field and says gossip and judgement are just as bad as adultery and fornication, which is just as bad as whatever “no-no” tops your list or mine.

We all blow it somewhere.

And when we do, there is grace, not only in forgiveness, but also in empowerment to change to become more wise and loving the next time.

The problems start when we think our form of blowing it isn’t as bad as someone else’s.

I’ve had ample opportunity to process legalism and judgment lately. Long hours of writing in my journal has tempered reactions that would only cause more hurt. My human self comes up with all kinds of wonderful ways to fight.

And while those scenarios roll around in my head, conviction hits. Some of those tit-for-tat responses I fantasize about are legalism at its best.

So I pray for guidance, and until He directs, stay off the public forums centering around the homeschooling movement crap and resist the temptation to send ugly emails or make “well-placed” phone calls.

Instead I ask God to shed Truth and Grace where it is needed.

Including in the ugly remnants of legalism and religiosity in me.

Fighting for Grace

Can I let it all hang out?

My fight to breathe in grace?

Some people are recovering alcoholics; I’m a recovering perfectionist. Which means, at its root, I’m a recovering religious legalist.

My desperate desire is to please and follow God. I want to be sweet and love Him and be loved by Him.

But as much as I long for perfection in this, I just can’t be perfect.

Sometimes I’m salty, not sweet.

20140526_133259My kitchen floor issue is still not resolved. We’re pulling up boards trying to find all the water, trying to let things dry out. I’m struggling to manage kitchen duty (and we’re one of those families that rarely eat out, don’t use pre-packaged food, and consume LOTS, so kitchen duty is a big deal) in a difficult situation.

Yesterday I chose to bake banana cake, Seth’s favorite. He’s home from college and well, it’s one of our love languages. And there is never a reason around here to do a single recipe, so of course I doubled it.

I’m leaning over floor boards that have been pulled up and stepping into cracks of sub-floor to try to work without further damaging my beautiful boards. (There’s a point.)

I’m ready to put the bananas in the batter, but Stephen pulls out a spoon and has a taste, one of his favorite things since childhood. His face scrunches up in distaste. I scoop a little into my mouth. It’s terrible. We add more sugar. No improvement. I taste the sugar. It’s bitter. Salty. I have no idea what 20140526_134405happened, but it was good for nothing but to be thrown away.

And I can’t help but think of myself like that canister of sugar. I want to be sweet. I’m supposed to be sweet. But I’ve been salty.

And something as non-life-changing as a dishwasher leaking under my favorite floor is what is tipping me over the edge. (There’s plenty of more important stuff I’m navigating, and I seem to handle that. But my floor! My beautiful floor!!)

I was mostly salty at God. I said some nasty stuff about Him to a friend. I don’t like to talk bad about those I love, and it hurts that I did.

And sometimes when I’m a jerk I think I should be thrown out like I threw out that salt. If I’m not sweet, I’m not doing my job, so just toss me in the trash.

But I KNOW that is my old mindset creeping in. Legalism. Pride. I’ve never been sweet all through every moment, and I never will be. It’s not my goodness that makes me close to God, it’s HIS.

My behavior is not going to separate me from God because Jesus’s behavior when He offered Himself on the cross is what connected God and me in the first place. It’s what keeps me connected long-term.

But I felt that old self-censure creeping in. That inability to believe I was worthy of His love when I was so nasty. That secretly He was a God who would withhold His gifts because I wasn’t being a good daughter.

So I typed a plea to a safe circle of friends asking them to pray, to help me hold onto Truth and not give into the old thought patterns. I wrote, “I know know know that God’s blessings are not dependent upon my perfection. I know that He forgives freely . . . I have been really angry with Him and acting like an entitled jerk. I’m struggling to get over my anger and to also to believe what my head knows, that I was forgiven for the awful things I said to and about Him even as I said them.

I know if one of my kids talked that way to/about me I would have been really hurt, yet I expect God to just take it from me and still open the floodgates of heaven and help me. It seems wrong.

Then I wonder about grace and unconditional love, and I suspect the root of my struggle is actually about not opening my heart to this grace, to this forgiveness, that my self-censure is returning to old crap . . .”

And one of my friends replied with the Truth and grace I already knew but struggled to receive, “There is NOTHING you can say to Him that hasn’t already been said. NOTHING you can do that hasn’t already been done. Peter argued with the LORD all the time. Paul was a murderer. David was an adulterous AND murderer. Abraham was a coward. Moses had no faith. Joseph was prideful. Jacob wrestled with the LORD to the point he had to have his hip dislocated.

“Paula, there is NOTHING God sees but your heart. It is a human heart that struggles with everyday life, yet when push comes to shove still leans on its Creator. Your relationship is so close that you can be honest with your God. DO NOT look at the Father-child relationship you have in human terms. God’s love is NEVER performance driven. Think of all the heroes we read about in the Bible and they all messed up big time. But they had one thing that the LORD loved more than anything–honesty before their King. That, my dear, sweet Paula, is what you have. Don’t let the enemy tell you otherwise.”

And so for the past two days I’ve told myself what I already know: God’s love is never performance-driven.

God’s love is never performance-driven.

God’s love is never performance-driven.

Always God’s love is mine, given freely, spilling all over me without measure. I don’t have to be a perfect child to access it. Even when I blow it He loves me.

He loves me.

He loves me.

He loves me.

And instead of casting me aside when I’m salty, he patiently remakes me into His image.

20140526_134248I baked those cakes over again, using good, sweet sugar. And they were the blessing I hoped they would be.

The blessing I want to be and often fall short of.

But GLORY-BE (southern roots showing here) like cakes I, too, can be remade.

Say a prayer for me, my friends . . .

Until next time,

paula cropped

Water Under the Floor

It’s not earth-shattering, Lord.

It’s not death or disease.

But even such a little thing can feel like destruction.

Even such a little thing is an assault on your gifts.

And they were your gifts.

In a time of financial empty you gave them to me, one at a time, over the long season of want.

A dishwasher and a new floor.

Both hand-me-down gifts that looked brand new.

I should have paid closer attention when something didn’t seem right in front of the dishwasher. Why did I wait until the beautiful floor seemed to buckle before sounding the alarm?

My heart dropped as the dishwasher was pulled from the cabinets and we saw the gush of water.

I cried as we began pulling up my beautiful floor, one long gorgeous board at a time.

We don’t live in financial nothingness now. But we’re still unprepared for this expense in this season of college bills and baseball teams.

Habit has long taught me to worry at such times.

But it has also taught me to give my worries to you.

That floor was your promise to me that all that was wrong in my home could be provided for in a snap when you chose to move.

Not only were the boards themselves a gift, the labor of love, the weekend of friendship was from you, too.

But hanging onto the gratitude is a bit testy while I watch my gorgeous floor boards crumble from the wet, smell the rank of saturated sub floor.

I’m not sure how to deal with this, Lord.

Even if there are enough scraps in the garage for the repairs, we don’t know how to cut and lay them.

And there is the issue of the gaping hole where a dishwasher used to be.

(I’m not thrilled about doing the volume of dishes we go through by hand, Lord.)

I want to fight through to gratitude and hope and praise and faith.

After all, if you cared enough to give me these gifts back then, isn’t such still important to you now?

The floor that my sweet family has walked upon, where I have fed precious children meal after meal. The room I’ve opened to guests, no matter how we had to crowded around my small table.

You care about my floor.

You care about my dishwasher.

You own the cattle on a thousand hills. This is not even pennies to you, this repair, this new provision.

Guilt whispers to remember all I have in this land of America. That I have dishes. Food to put in them. A comfortable home, pretty floor or not. Guilt says I should not care so much about such things as broken appliances and broken beauty.

But you’ve been showing me that your voice isn’t guilt.

You teach me to care about others, look for ways to serve and give, but not to pretend I don’t care about my own needs because they seem petty compared.

My needs and desires are my own.

And they are important to you, the hopes of this mom in America, just the same as the hopes of a mother in Africa who today prays for more immediate, life-giving needs.

I won’t live in guilt. I won’t pretend I don’t feel this need.

I won’t live in the knee-jerk hopelessness and worry of the past.

I will live in faith of provision.

I will live in the Truth that You see and care.

I will remember the provisions of the past and look to the provisions of the future, no matter what form they take.

Friends, I started praying with pen and journal this morning, talking to the God who Loves about this issue (and others). But this little blog beckoned, this place where I’ve chosen to be vulnerable about the big things and small. This place where I’ve asked for prayer, and it has been given.

I’m not sure why I choose to share this mundane problem. Maybe because I so desire to take a stand for hope and faith and to it in front of the whole of the Internet seemed definitive. Maybe because I know some of your stories and how my little tales of provision have given you hope in your own long season of want. Maybe because I know some of you will whisper a prayer for my attitude and my provision. Maybe just because we’re journeying together, you and me, and this is today’s journey.

As I type I whisper a pray for your journey of this day. Whether issues are big or small assualt or whether it is a day of sheer ease, I ask Him to bless you, to provide for you, to show His love. I pray that you have hope and faith. That neither you or I try to ease the stress by stuff that never fixes anything, like pigging out on cheese dip and chips. ;o)

Until Next Time,

moldenhauer signature3

 

 

 

Spirit Seeker Sunday ~ Practical Tips to Break the Food Addiction

OUCH: “When the desire for treats is triggered by difficult emotions, it’s not really a desire for treats. It’s a thinly veiled attempt at self-medication . . . our souls are thirsty and ravenous . . . if we fail to . . . fill our souls with spiritual nourishment, we will forever be triggered to numb our loneliness with other temporary physical pleasures . . . this issue is bigger than emotions; it’s really about spiritual deprivation . . . and self-medicating with food . . . vicious cycles I must avoid.” Lysa TerKeurst

One of the best parts of my journey to health has been discovering some of the “whys” behind my eating choices and learning to be mindful of those when I want to reach for food. It’s amazing how the realization that I’m trying to fill an emotional need with something that won’t satisfy, but will instead derail my goals, gives me strength to walk away.

Sometimes it is now as simple as a quick prayer breathed to the Lord, telling Him I want Him to fill my needs, not food.

It was harder earlier in my journey. Maybe because the cravings were more physical than they are now-metting with agent 2-along with being emotional, which they still are. During that time period I found a cup of licorice spice or peppermint tea helped curb the cravings and still felt like a treat. I could sip my no calorie tea and do something else I enjoyed rather than eat–like read a book, write in my journal, chat with a friend, or play on Facebook. I read later that peppermint tea curbs the appetite when you’re hungry and Licorice tea (I like Stash Licorice Spice) curbs sugar cravings!

God is sweet to give us great tasting, no calorie options. Early in my journey I also found that taking a walk when I got a craving was a great alternative. Once I started walking I no longer felt hungry, and the time it required often took me to the next scheduled meal, so I didn’t think about snacking between.

The other cool thing is that walking never fails to connect me back to God. I hear the birds and am grateful for the beauty of their song–and next thing I know I’m thanking God for the gift. Or the sun shines or me, or the sky is a brilliant blue, or I see a flower, a tree, a mountain . . . or I simply feel the fresh air upon my face. Nature draws me to the Creator. Another cool thing that often happens as I walk is that He’ll prompt me to prayer or I’ll use the time to listen to Scripture on the audio Bible app on my phone.

The last few weeks we’ve talked about spiritual practices and how they relate to weight loss, but God created us mind, body, emotions, and spirit. We also need tangible, practical, physical plans to help us succeed in our journey to breaking the food addiction.

What practical plan do you have for the next time you are tempted to self-medicate with food?

Father,

Help me not to self-medicate with food. Give me what it takes to break the cycles of food addiction. Free me to enjoy my life, not just my food. To find freedom not in eating anything I want, but in choosing a fuller life over a fuller tummy. Help me to turn to You when I am tempted to self-medicate. Be my healer. Show me healthy alternatives to my addictions, even if for a while they are simply distractions. But in the long run, draw me to Yourself.

Being practical in overcoming the need to self-medicate with food

PS. I truly believe my Benew products have reduced cravings and helped my physical self in this journey to break the food addiction cycles.

Monday Morning Makeover ~ Heart of the Matter

Want to find hope and healing and success? Let’s get to the heart of the matter! How? We can start at our mouths and follow the trail. Solutions don’t come from treating the symptoms, but the symptoms can give us clues to the cause, then we can truly heal from the inside out.

Video: Want hope and healing? Follow the trail to the heart

Monday Morning Makeover ~ Spring

It’s a snowy day here in Colorado, but even if it feels like winter, the calendar says March. This week heralds the first day of spring.

Ever feel like you’re pushing through winter when you thought you’d be embracing a new beginning?

(Sorry this is posting late. That nasty stomach virus finally got me, and I’ve spent the last few days in bed! Hope you’re having a great week!)

Spirit Seeker Sunday ~ The Deep Happy Isn’t From Skinny

Body size does not determine happiness.

Haven’t you seen unhappy people at all sizes–and visa versa?

If we’re not happy overweight, we won’t be happy at a normal weight either.

From a spiritual perspective the deep inside peace–happy, if you will–is achieved when happiness is tied into embracing the identities we are given from our Creator: forgiven, set free, accepted child of God, holy child of God, made new child of God, loved child of God, confident child of God, victorious child of God, you get the idea . . .

Lysa TerKeurst says, “Tying our happiness to food, skinny jeans, relationships, or anything else will only set us up for failure. But tying our security, joy, and identity to God’s love is an anchor we can cling to no matter what our circumstances might be.”

I don’t know if I could have chosen to deal with my weight issues if I hadn’t first felt loved. I’ve been around long enough to know that if I don’t feel loved when I’m heavy, dropping a few pounds isn’t going to solve the issue.

What I cling to is this Truth: Heavy or thin, we are completely loved and accepted by the One who made us. He has brushed our hearts with His mercy and declared us good and beautiful and treasured. When the weight loss journey is hard, I press into that truth. I ask Him to help me persevere because I know He loves me and cares about my journey.

That said, there is JOY in the weight loss journey. It’s not so much an identity thing as a freedom thing. Losing weight has freed me to move differently, to break some strongholds, to feel stronger and healthier and to enjoy activities that were before too draining because of the extra weight I lugged around. I think there is also some emotional cleansing tied to weight loss. I actually read that the toxins in our fat can also store emotional pain! I’ve had plenty of tears as the weight has burned off–and the other side of tears is usually a new lightness and peace . . .

Father, 
Please help us to build our identity on YOU and your love, not our body size. Convince us deep down that we are loved forever and always, deeply, passionately, and fully. Help weight loss to become an act of joy, not because our identity is tied to it, but because of the new freedoms found there.

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Body size does not determine happiness