An invalid writer is confronted with truth

I could possibly bore everyone I know with writing another unimportant blog post.
This fear has stunned me into a writing coma where I have slept for months,
waiting to feel a spark of inspiration that didn’t feel forced.

Why is it so quiet when it snows?
Is it because the cold hard truth makes you hold your breath and stand still?

Tell the truth?

Well here it is:

I want to make something meaningful.
Craft words and phrases of art.
Powerful.
Inspirational.

The point is to move souls…
Evoke motion…to see if anyone gets me?!
Really gets me?

Im just another copy cat, trying hard to lead the way.
At the end of the day, I just want to be someone important.
I want to be triumphant.
Beautiful.
Exciting.
I want an epic destiny.
I want to climb to the climax of this movie with a powerful score, and blow everyone’s minds with my tenacity.

How selfish, how selfish, how selfish.

The grip of control is tight with its counterfeit…and here I am again worried about me, me me.

My mind swirls with thoughts that are hard to package and share.
I guess thats why I’m a writer.

Lose myself to chance?
Ok.

Pen to paper spilling.
Pushing me to dig deeper.
Urging me forward and I’m forced to keep up.
Stumbling across the page with my words.

I fight against what comes naturally because that’s what good girls are taught to do.

When really, lets just get real…

I’d slice throats if I had to.
I’d steal if I thought God wouldn’t care.
My darkness is ever present.
Can’t trust my instinct because its always going to be sinful.

I’ve been paralyzed on this mat for a year.
Writhing in bitter pain and pity.
Laying here waiting for a miracle.

“Get up and walk.”

Warm light of love starting to thaw my frozen heart.

Praying that this time I’ll trust and obey,
to spring up off of this bed and be healed.

“One man was there who had been an invalid for thirty-eight years. When Jesus saw him lying there and knew that he had already been there a long time, he said to him, “Do you want to be healed?” The sick man answered him, “Sir, I have no one to put me into the pool when the water is stirred up, and while I am going another steps down before me.” Jesus said to him, “Get up, take up your bed, and walk.” And at once the man was healed, and he took up his bed and walked.” (John 5:5-9 ESV)

Faith revived from a horror film

In attempting to distract my sister from a broken heart we went to see a scary movie. Why do I always think this is a good idea? We went and saw “The Conjuring” which definitely lived up to its name. I wont spoil it for anyone who may be brave enough to go see it, but essentially the movie documents a family trying to rid their house of an evil presence.

As a person of faith, I should know better than to watch these movies because I know that it’s not just wildly imagined content used to make Hollywood films. Call me cray cray, but I believe in the reality of God and Satan. Angels and demons. Though, it seems in modern 2013 we are much more skeptical of the mystical and supernatural and even ancient aspect of our faith. Most of us us don’t usually experience these kinds of dramatic events and what we do hear about can be more comfortably explained away by mental illness or faulty construction of a house. Some people discount these things completely.

Who really knows!?

That being said, it really made me sober minded about the spiritual atmosphere of my life. I definitely went to bed that night with the name of Jesus on my lips. Feeling dumb, but also relived and comforted. I have been thinking a lot about the topic since seeing the movie last weekend. Why, only when I’m scared or heartbroken am I vigilant in praying? Though I’ve certainly never dealt with any REAL demonic presence in my life, I certainly have my demons. Why do I so easily give in to them?

I listened to a teaching this morning by Nadia Boltz Weber who is an unconventional pastor I’ve recently enjoyed listening to. Her teaching struck a chord this morning,

“I think our demons totally recognize Jesus right out of the boat and our demons are afraid of him. Which is why they try to get us to stay away from people who may remind us how loved we are. Our demons want nothing to do with the love of God in Christ Jesus and so they try to isolate us and tell us that we are not worthy to be called children of God. And these lies are simply things that Jesus does not abide.
Maybe the demon of anger knows to steer clear of the Gospel, lest you end up forgiving some jack ass who you really want to punch in the throat. Maybe your demon of inertia knows to avoid of Jesus lest it be cast off a cliff and you have to start showing up in life. Maybe your demon of compulsive eating knows to not listen to Jesus lest it find itself in a lake and you clothed and fully in your body and sitting at Jesus feet. Maybe your demon of always always always having to prove yourself fears Jesus since if you listen to Jesus and not that demon you may start really believing that you are already good enough and then you’ll have to stop over-functioning.”

(Listen to the full teaching here: http://www.patheos.com/blogs/nadiabolzweber/2013/06/demon-possession-and-why-i-named-my-depression-francis/)

Calm and clothed and fully in my body at Jesus’ feet? Sounds heavenly.

I went and read the account of Jesus casting the demons into the pigs in the book of Matthew 8:28-33. The pigs went wild and ran themselves off the side of a cliff and drowned in the waters below. The man was not calm when he came upon Jesus, but suffering through a violent and hopeless situation. He was shunned from everyone and filthy and unrecognizable. Everyone had given up on him.

Yet somehow HE found his way to Jesus and was healed?
Well, I guess I can to.

The Lords supper

I think sometimes we just need to have a good cry. I have no idea why, but it makes you feel so much better. It sounds trite, but it’s very cleansing.

Yesterday I had an “ugly cry” episode during church service. The first weekend of the month is when my church family observes communion. For those who maybe aren’t sure what that is, its a ceremony that’s done in church to remember what Jesus did on the cross. The bread element representing His body that was broken for us and the wine/juice element representing the shed blood as a exemption from our sin. It prompts us to search our hearts in prayer and eat the things together as a reminder of what this life of faith is all about and the mercy that we have been shown. The catholic church does this daily, some churches do it every week, some every other…it varies from church to church. My pastor began the service talking about what it means in our life to gather at the table. To come together and relax and replenish. To share with loved ones over a meal, making memories. Often in times of celebration. Or bringing comfort in times of grief. Moments that we all share no matter our culture. We like to take our place and enjoy.

The thing that struck me is that bellying up to the table is NOT a celebration for me. It’s the scene of the crime. For the person with disordered eating, food is public enemy number one. The act of eating somehow becoming a vile, dirty act. Food presenting itself as menacing and sinister as a dirrrrty, dirrrrty magazine filled with the raunchiest of temptations. Even when I’m eating “in bounds” and doing well and losing weight, the pull is magnetic.

I can relate to the alcoholic that has to dodge the offers of chilled beers and frothy margaritas at bbq’s or the casual glass of wine with dinner. I can also imagine the constant temptation there is to unwind at a bar, let go and have fun with friends. I’m not an alcoholic, but I know first hand how it feels to have an addiction beckoning me constantly. Offering artificial but instant promises of relief. And in some ways I envy them slightly. Crazy right?! Except for the alcoholic there is abstinence. There are black and white lines drawn. Clear boundaries. You wouldn’t expect an alcoholic to drink one beer three times a day and call it sobriety?

No. I can’t abstain from eating.

I must face my ugly beast in the eyes at least three or so times a day for the rest of my life. My bars, pubs and neon lights boast not of beer and liquor but of Golden Arches, Taco Bells..and value menus. Drive thru windows where I don’t even have to get out of my car and can easily hide any or all evidence of the dirty deed done. With one swipe of my card, I’m spiraling downward…physically, spiritually, mentally, even financially. And just like an addict, it seems with little regard in the moment for those who are stuck in my spiral unwillingly. The remorse and guilt only causing more eating…

Food has been the shot in my arm sought to numb and soothe anxiety. A means of avoiding and dimming my feelings to retain some false sense of control. Eating has been a vehicle of self abuse instead of what it was intended to be…a means of fueling my body with energy, nurturing and caring for it.

I’m crying in church, wondering how audacious it seems for me to eat of this “meal” being offered. Me, the abuser of food. My big body is evidence…I can’t deny it.

Gluttonous.
Shameful.
Just give it up.
Surrender to the facts.
You’ve failed before, you’ll fail again.
You’ll never beat this.
It’s too much.
Just don’t care anymore.
Pointless.

But then …Jesus saying,

“Look! I stand at the door and knock. If you hear my voice and open the door, I will come in, and we will share a meal together as friends.” (Revelation 3:10 NLT)

“I am the bread of life. Whoever comes to me will never be hungry again. Whoever believes in me will never be thirsty. ” (John 6:35 NLT)

“Why spend money on what is not bread, and your labor on what does not satisfy? Listen, listen to me, and eat what is good, and you will delight in the richest of fare.” (Isaiah 55:2 NLT)

“Therefore I tell you, do not be anxious about your life, what you will eat, nor about your body, what you will put on.” (Luke 12:22 ESV)

“The Lord your God is in your midst, a mighty one who will save; he will rejoice over you with gladness; he will quiet you by his love; he will exult over you with loud singing.” (Zephaniah 3:17 ESV)

“You are altogether beautiful, my love; there is no flaw in you.” (Song of Solomon 4:7 ESV)

A poem of love.
For me…from the creator of this body I’ve hated so much. This body that has allowed me to walk and move and live life despite how my mind has destroyed it. This body that has birthed two beautiful and healthy children. This body that has been allowed to wake again this morning to a new day…despite the pain…to try again.