What is this life about? Why was I put here on this earth? What
really matters? All these questions relentlessly haunt me as I reflect back on
my life and wonder where the time has gone and where my passion for living has
dissipated to. I’ve become so tired of fighting this deadly disease when the
truth of the matter is I was never created to fight alone, so why do I so
adamantly try? Each day I tell myself it will be different; tomorrow I’ll let
God have control, but it seems my flesh only creeps back in, clinging
desperately to control. Deep down in my heart I want to be free from this
misery, yet a part of me still believes I don’t deserve anything more—that pain is
the result of my imperfection and unworthiness. Honestly, moments without pain
and suffering scare me to death, as my flesh has become so accustomed to torture
that life without it seems wholly unnatural. As twisted as it may sound, pain
brings comfort to my afflicted flesh, convincing me I am safe and only
receiving what I deserve. So, in all sincerity, I’ve been running—unreservedly running—from what I
know God has called me to do: to surrender. Why is surrender so hard? Maybe it’s
because my flesh still doggedly cries out for control, hesitant to give it ALL up,
which is exactly what He has called me to do; all my dreams, plans and
ambitions—everything. That’s why
I’ve been running: because I don’t want to give it all up, yet my trivial mind
fails to realize that once I give up all these fleeting and superficial desires,
I then make room for even bigger dreams
to abide. But what could be better than my own desires, my flesh persistently
wonders. I believe God has not called me to have all these answers, although my
flesh demands them with wholehearted aggression, because stepping out in blind
faith requires trust—the hardest thing for my flesh to do.
After being abused and taken advantage of, my flesh barbarically runs away from
all situations requiring trust because it is simply too painful to face. But, I
can’t spend my whole life running. I believe I have been called to more than
this, no matter how rigorously my flesh clings to the comforting sensation of
punishment and pain. I was not meant to despise food—the very
thing that sustains life—or torture myself with the comforting
sensation of starvation. My body was not intended to endure this unshakable
persecution, no matter how much my flesh argues otherwise. I was not intended
to be defined by a number, which is exactly what has happened; my flesh
desperately clings to a fading number for its identity, which is never enough;
the number is never low enough and only leaves me depressed, hopeless and absolutely
miserable. The more I allow myself to restrict, the more food terrorizes and
haunts me, becoming my greatest enemy. I’m tired of fighting this battle on my
own and running from God’s plans—plans I can’t
yet see but desperately believe are better than my own, which simply leave me
empty and broken. This week has been especially hard as I’ve watched what,
according to my own selfish and prideful desires to be seen, was my greatest
ambition and fought so hard to make happen suddenly occurring for others; why
didn’t they have to give up their dreams but I must give up everything, my
flesh cries out in agony? “The heart of man plans his
way, but the Lord establishes his steps” (Proverbs
16:9). God has been teaching me that a life glorifying my fleshly abilities is
no life at all but instead the path to misery; I was not created to get through
life on my own, which only leads to pride and selfishness, but rather to
surrender all—even my greatest dreams and ambitions in order to
find something abundantly greater. “For by grace
you have been saved through faith. And this is not your own doing; it is the
gift of God, not a result of works, so that no one may boast” (Ephesians
2:8-9). I was not created to bring glory to my flesh, but to God’s miraculous
power; I was created to pour out His love and live a life of unselfishness,
worship and service, which is the exact opposite of what my flesh so adamantly
desires. My flesh longs to be seen and admired, but God has called me to
instead be defined by His love—the one thing that doesn’t
change, no matter how persistently I run away from it. I am not defined by my
achievements, failures, appearance or anything of this momentary life, but
instead by Who I belong to. No
matter how much my weight drops, it’s never
enough, but to God I’m enough simply as I am—broken
and beautiful. I no longer want to spend my life a slave to the
opinions and approval of this narcissistic world, which is meaningless and
forever unsatisfactory but rather to be fully surrendered to the King of the
Universe, which is what I was created for.
“Or do you not know that your body is a temple of
the Holy Spirit within you, whom you have from God? You are not your own, for
you were bought with a price. So glorify God in your body” (1
Corinthians 6: 19-20).
“The end of the matter; all has been heard. Fear
God and keep his
commandments, for this is the whole duty of man”
(Ecclesiastes 12: 13).
“Everyone who is called by my name, whom I created for my glory, whom I formed and made” (Isaiah 43:7).
“And be found in him, not having a righteousness
of my own that comes from the law, but that which comes through faith in
Christ, the righteousness from God that depends on faith— that I may
know him and the power of his resurrection, and may share his sufferings,
becoming like him in his death” (Philippians 3: 9-10).
