I Almost Didn't Type This...

I've been buying the lie for years now. 

A good Christian is inside of the church doors every time they are open. A good Christian looks like every other good Christian. A good Christian knows the scriptures and their addresses. A good Christian stays away from heathens.

       You know, that sounds along the same lines as what the religious leaders thought in Jesus's time. They were the ones who should've recognized Jesus but missed Him. 

Guess what, church? 

Just because we can point out that they were wrong in the NT, doesn't change the fact that we have become religious, or that we are still breeding religion. We look at our friends' pictures of their latest party on our Facebook feed and think of how sinful they are. I'm not sure who is more disgusting,  the people who don't know who God is and show it in their actions, or the Christians who put Jesus back on the cross and placed religious status on His throne...?

       Don't think I'm feeling high-and-mighty, because I'm not. Trust me, I'm filthy with religion too. Like I said at the beginning of this, I've bought into the lie and am still in recovery. I'm certainly not saying that I've screwed up these past four-and-a-half years of my walk with Christ -God is certainly bigger than any of my failures- but what I am saying is that I haven't been as effective in my personal ministry. Sure, I've planted seeds, but I look back and see that very seldom did I ever really nurture them.

       I've been told for years how great of a leader I am and how I'll be a great pastor one day. A pastor...wow...that's creative. (And, no, that's not disrespecting pastors). I've led worship, preached, led a small high-school age church for four years, started up a non-profit, and am the freelancer-leader for any youth event. I have leadership down. I'm eighteen and I can influence people much older than me to follow my lead. By the church's standards, I'm pretty much a miracle. But I'm discontent. Why? Because how many of my friends do I have in my life who I don't keep as a prize (someone to boost status) or some kind of project (someone to minister or "fix")? One, and he's my youth pastor. It doesn't mean that I'm ungrateful for him or that I don't love my other friends, but it does show a disconnect. Jesus didn't really keep Himself in a religious dog-pile; He hung out with the sinners and was persecuted for it. He never worked on status and never viewed anyone as a project. If so, He failed. He was hated, and He helped and healed many people who turned their backs as His back was ripped open with lashes.

       I've been in recovery for a few years now. The first dose of GetoffofyourhighhorseandlovepeoplelikeJesus (it's been around for a long time, but it's results tend to be controversial among believers)* was in my sophomore year of high school. It was the first day of second semester and I had a completely new lunch with new people. My semi-popular friends were in a different lunch and the only friends I had in my lunch were misfits. I sat with them as I looked around to see what people were thinking. I mean, I knew that I was weird, but sitting with the outcasts made it official that I wasn't cool. Thankfully, the GetoffofyourhighhorseandlovepeoplelikeJesus kicked in within a week and I learned to appreciate my friends. Today, they are some of the best friends I have.

       Of course there have been many doses over the past couple of years, but I've recently had an increase in dosage (gotta love analogies). Over the last few months, I have been getting into sermon podcasts, receiving pastoral advice, and have been learning the ins and outs of full time ministry. I'm not sure what it was, but somewhere along the line, I started feeling....better than people. I spoke to my friends in leadership-mode, walked with an arrogant confidence, and had a formula for every church protocol. I was practically a religiologist, but deep down, I felt cold. I felt alone because most of my friends didn't want to be lectured at by Pastor Tina, and betrayed by God because I had been doing everything "right." I started dressing like a female church leader "should." I lost my crazy, tomboyish, loving personality and had conformed to what the religious world deems as "good." I was miserable.

       Since then, I've been more like myself, fixed my perspective of ministry, and traded in the nice clothes for my faithful T-shirts (along with a lot of colour, mismatching, and basketball shorts). And, really, when I dream of my future, I just don't want to be stuffed into a church. Don't get me wrong, church is great and it keeps us supporting one another (iron sharpens iron), but I refuse to be Christian who hides behind church doors because that's where I can feel most accepted for what I believe. I've reached out to more of my weird friends from school and it turns out that I really enjoy being with them. We're all just a bunch of nerds and outcasts, but I'm showing them a Jesus that they never knew -the loving one. I definitely have my youth group friends who help me out and who are there with me every step of the way though! I've just really come to realize what it means to reach out like Jesus did. Never in my saved-life have I ever poured out into so many people as I do now. I've been texting people who I'm not best friends with, I've been taking care of friends even when it seems like they refuse to believe in Jesus, and I've felt more satisfied. I don't care whether I get recognized for it, I don't care whether the Church pats me on the back for it, I don't care what criticism I may get for it.....I just want to love like Jesus did. I want to hurt with people and tell them that there's hope, I want to follow Christ's example of how to minister, and I want to fess up to my failures and allow the world to see that I'm not perfect.....Funny thing is, I almost didn't type this.

Stage 4 Discontentment

            One day a couple of weeks ago, in the early morning’s light, I found myself in a place as if my life had come to an extraordinarily serious scene in a drama, one where the limelight illuminates the main character and everything else is forgotten in the shadows. I sat down Indian-style on my front porch with my Beatles coffee mug in hand, took a deep breath in, and searched for words to say to my Saviour. After a few moments of choking up and not being able to express myself to Him verbally, I began to bawl.

            Over the past few months, I've been frustrated and discontented with the hand that life has dealt me. Instead of giving those things to God and letting Him heal me, I let them callous my heart because I didn't want to get hurt again. With every obstacle that I've ever faced in my life, it didn't really snap until dad died back in April. With his departure, the questions rolled in. Why would I be the kid who got sexually abused, lost a brother, was abandoned by too many “best friends” to count, and lost her dad? Wouldn't one tragedy be enough? How many more awful things are going to happen? For what seemed like the first time in my life, I had started counting my struggles and ignoring my blessings. The tally board was heavily unbalanced, leaning on the side of wow-my-life-sucks.

Going back to that particular morning, I had sat down to question why I was losing my passion to worship God. I couldn't stand to live another day of my heartbeat symbolizing nothing more than blood being pumped through my veins when it used to mean so much more. So, on that morning, as I had begun to stumble over my words in my prayer to God, I heard my diagnosis. Stage 4 Discontentment, a diagnosis that, without prayer, humility, and brokenness, was also the prognosis. God said, “I had to bring you to the point of discontentment to get you to move.” (It seems that it isn't until we figure out just how finite we are that we actually even have the ability to become someone greater. Until life wears us down to our core, we usually live a life that doesn't even scratch the surface of what we were made to be.) Once hearing my diagnosis, I had two options: I either give up and live a sour life of “woe is me,” or I lay down my pride, perception, and thoughts at the cross and allow God to show me why I should be grateful. For me, giving up is never an option, so through my bowing and crying for God, I laid those things down. I asked for Him to show me the absolute awesomeness of having salvation and to show me just how incredibly blessed I really am.

This was my prayer for nothing short of a miracle.

Ever since that prayer, I have found salvation to be more amazing and have seen the trillions of blessings that I have just even in a few weeks’ time. Not only have I noticed my blessings more, but the problems that I once held in my hands against my heart because I was too afraid of life without them have melted away. For example, when I look back at the day I was first abused, I don’t say, “I am an abuse victim.” Instead, I say, “I have been through abuse.” I no longer keep my past hurts and failures close to my heart, but rather, I like to keep them in my testimony, the only place that they can serve anyone any good.

I have a God who cannot be contained and who loves me more than I’ll ever be able to imagine. I have family and friends who are insanely supportive and who are passionate for me. I don’t go without any of my needs or even many of my wants. I've been blessed with the ability to sing and play guitar. God gave me a hilarious but caring personality. I feel the invigorating beauty of life in the air that fills my lungs, in the view of the autumn leaves falling, in the heart-embracing hugs from those I love, and in the sweet moments of just being with my Saviour. I see how gorgeous life really is, even with its contrast of light and darkness, and I say to myself, “I am content.”

Overcome, Or Be Overcome.

            Ever since I’ve been alive, I have always been one of those incredibly (and, at times, idiotically) brave people. For example, most little kids catch butterflies. Not me, that was far too safe. I caught bumble bees. That’s just begging to get hurt.  I’ve always enjoyed the excitement and challenge of staring fear in the eyes. Whether it was climbing trees or doing stupid stunts on an ATV, you could always bet on me doing something that taunted all fears. I’ve always thought of myself as invincible. I thought that fear could never stop me.

            The beginning of 2012 proved to me that I had let that statement become untrue. Cowardice ran and ruled my life. Fear gripped my heart like tightly wrapped chains; I was paralyzed. I avoided several things because I was afraid of how it would turn out. I wanted to lose weight, but was afraid of relapsing with Anorexia and Bulimia (like I had with every previous attempt). Was becoming closer with one of my friends, but was afraid because I had just had a best friend walk out of my life. Had numerous ideas come to mind that I wanted to try, but didn’t because I feared failure. Wanted to get back to being myself (for I had let people tell me who I needed to be), but I wouldn’t because I didn’t want to see more people reject me. Immobile and terrorized, I lived in a box that kept me within false securities.

            I could tell you that I had a great vision or revelation spoken to me, but in all honesty, I didn’t. I have no real guidelines, scripts, or 12-step programs; just two words: Step forward. If you ever want fear to stop overcoming you, you have to overcome it. Did you know that because of Christ, you are stronger than any fear? It’s true! Until you realize that, you won’t find freedom. It’s fear or freedom, you have to choose.

Because I am sick of complacency, I have chosen freedom these past few months. I have been losing weight by being on a healthy diet. I have another best friend who has just been completely amazing. I have confidence in being myself again and am not afraid of failing (even when I screw up really badly!). All of these victories started with a step. I fell at times, yes, but every time that I did, I got back up. Every time that fear knocked me to my knees, I returned to my feet and whispered under my breath, “I am stronger.”

There have been days that I’ve wanted to go back to the familiar chains that fear offered, but I keep my eyes on the Promise land, the life without slavery. Today, we all have a choice of freedom. It is always just one step away. Look fear in the eyes, take a deep breath, step forward with the courage of Christ, and overcome. You have now defeated and overcome fear.

“You gain strength, courage, and confidence by every experience in which you really stop to look fear in the face. You are able to say to yourself, 'I lived through this horror. I can take the next thing that comes along.'” -- Eleanor Roosevelt

The Victory, The Freedom

                I fail to remember the first time that I skipped a meal with harmful intentions, but I do remember that I met Ana the Summer before 7^th grade. It had started out as a portion-control-and-exercise diet, but it progressed. “If I exercise for longer and eat less than I have been, I’ll lose weight even faster,” I’d believe. That “longer” exercise evolved into over-exercising while the “less” amounts of food transformed into nonexistent amounts of food. Some days, I would eat something small. Others, I ate nothing at all. Things were already out of hand, but once I hit 8^th grade, they were massively uncontrolled and getting worse.

Me during the summer before 8th grade

As my mental illness progressed, I found more and more pleasure when I’d starve and more and more shame and hate when I’d eat (even small snacks). Because of this hatred toward myself, I’d soon find myself greeting a new friend. I “slipped up” and ate something one day in October of ’08. Shame inundated my mind, haunting me from the first bite until I made that first step in this new direction. I forced myself to vomit. That was the first day with Mia. At first, it was every other day. Before I knew it, it was every day, several times a day. Whether I ate a meal or if I took a small bite out of something, I’d purge. These purges weren’t just long enough to get the food out; they were much, much longer. I’d throw up until all of what I had eaten was out, and then I’d purge some more. My sign to stop was when my hands wouldn’t stop shaking, my throat and head hurt too much, and when dehydration kept me from standing. Usually.

If I hadn’t have gotten saved the following February in ’09, I’d be long gone. I wouldn’t have lasted more than three months after that day. Once I found Jesus, I started eating again and keeping it down. It was really hard to see myself gain weight, but I knew I couldn’t live like that anymore. Unfortunately, because my metabolism took such a toll due to the eating disorder (which would more clearly be defined as EDNOS), my body stored most of it as fat first. I gave over my eating disorders to God, but I hadn’t given Him my self-worth issues so I continued to hate the way that I looked. I began to notice that I needed to go onto a diet and exercise to be sure to not become over-weight, but I was paralyzed with fear that I’d backslide. A few times, I had started to trust myself, but only to find that I’d start the same pattern back up. So, I abandoned the idea because I’d rather hate the way that I looked than to slowly kill myself and feed my self-loathing.

            This summer (’12) break (that is now coming to a close) brought a whole new chapter.  I decided that I wanted more out of life. I wanted to lose weight and become more active so I decided to do the Atkins diet. Since I knew of my past failures with my diet attempts, I had to monitor my eating habits closely and restrict how often I’d work out. I lost five pounds in the first week and hadn’t developed any unhealthy patterns. After a few weeks, I had lost ten pounds and was super excited. First off, it was nice to lose weight. Second, I was losing weight without starving myself! For those of you who have never had an eating disorder, you may not understand how weighty that step was for me, but it was pretty ground-breaking. I’ve been set free from self-worth issues (which will be told in a later blog) and I have been victorious over eating disorders. This Summer hasn’t brought just a new chapter with my self-image, it has transformed who I am and how I will live the rest of my life: Free.

From left to right: Me, Storm Whitaker, and Jelly Sullins