But the Holy Spirit produces this kind of fruit in our lives: love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control. There is no law against these things!
~Galatians 5:22-23 (NLT)~
This is tough for me to write about. For one thing, I don't have my thoughts well organized. I'm still mucking through my brain to get to that place. For another, this is intensely personal. It's hard to speak of things that weigh on our hearts. I'm going to do my best. Bear with me.
Some months back, I began a trek to get my weight in a healthy range. Some of the intended side effects of that would be making me feel better, getting off prescription medications, and preparing my body to grow the family we hope to have in coming years. Of course, there's all the vanity of being smaller, having clothes fit and look better on me, and feeling better about myself. I'm sure that plays a large part in my mind, though I don't really want to admit it. Primarily, I tried to focus on my health.
In just over 3 months, I shed 25 pounds, and was starting to feel better. My doctor cut my prescription medications in half to compensate for the major changes in my body's functioning. I was starting to feel better about who I was and how I looked. Then I hit a plateau. Without changing my intake or exercise, I just stopped. losing. weight. I got frustrated.
Then, on a weekend trip with my husband, we decided to sit in this nice area of the hotel, listen to the live band play, and have a glass of wine. I hadn't had any alcohol in 4 months, at this point. My husband put his arm around me and told me that he had missed this. It broke me a little. I had stopped doing something that built my relationship with my husband (a glass of wine, while relaxing and talking, of an evening), and hadn't even thought about that consequence. I mislaid my moderation, somewhere along the way.
My husband had been so kind, through the big push. He had been so supportive. I repaid that with making eating out an impossibility or at least an exercise in frustration, denying him some nice evenings by the fire, and focusing all my energy on food and exercise. Admittedly, the motives were mostly good. It's good to be healthy, to be good stewards of our bodies and our lives. I just lost sight of some other important things along the way, and that was decidedly not good for me or my marriage.
Something with which I have struggled all my life is self-control, one of the fruits of the Spirit. Part of that is due to my bent toward independence: as we would refer to it in the
Ezer curriculum, the core sin of autonomy. Part of it is due to my frustration with the results of attempting to practice self-control. Part of it is due to sheer laziness. Discipline isn't easy. (Contrary to how my mother makes it look. Smile. Grimace.)
As a result, I swing back and forth on a pendulum between tightly controlling things (to my detriment and that of my relationships), and completely abandoning self-control as futile (to the detriment of myself, my health, and my relationships).
As that weekend hit me, my pendulum abruptly swung back away from self-control, and I abandoned the diet process. What I should have done was lock my weight in where it was by following the consolidation phase of the diet, adding the full variety of foods back into my life gradually and in a healthy way. I didn't. Now I'm paying for it. I've gained back a significant portion of what I had lost. My health reflects it. My self-esteem reflects it. My clothing reflects it. My relationships reflect it. It hurts.
Two days ago, I started back at square one. Part-way through the day I got a phone call from my dad. While I won't detail everything he said to me, as I sat and wept, listening, I will tell you the gist. He has become my intercessor on the matter of my weight and health. He has stepped in to pray for me in a way that I couldn't begin to pray for myself. As he put it, he has locked arms with me and we're going to face this thing together, letting God fight the battle and watching as victory takes the place of disappointment and defeat.
He's called several times since then, to reiterate mostly. He hasn't once asked me how I'm doing with dieting, or what I've eaten. He just tells me he loves me and he's going to prayer for me, that he's on my side.
He painted this image in my mind. The God of the universe, who created it all, who runs it all, who could wipe it all away with a word, a breath, a thought-- THAT God is on my side. When a bully is on my playground, kicking my tushy around, and I run to my bigger, stronger, more faithful and loving God, He sees it and shows up to make things right. The bully's fight is with God, not with me, at that point.
My bully could be called a lot of things right now: unhealthy eating habits, sedentary lifestyle, lack of exercise, disappointment, defeat, burgeoning depression. That bully has been kicking my tushy for so long, that I've lost sight of being the victor.
My dad said that I am a warrior, that I'm strong. I looked in the mirror and wept, because all I could see was weakness, defeat, disappointment. He said that he and mom had watched God beat up their bully recently, and that they were with me to see Him beat up mine. In his positive outlook, he put just the tiniest glimmer of hope in my heart. Maybe I don't have to be kicked around anymore. Maybe the bully is going to get taught a lesson, after all. Maybe I can really desire to do what's right and healthy, and not be disappointed by my own efforts. Maybe God can live in me, helping me do the things that are beyond my power and control and guiding me into a season of health that will glorify Him.
One of the things that mystifies me to no end is the process of allowing the Holy Spirit to live life in us and through us, to let Him have complete control. One of the things that tells me that I'm growing spiritually, is the realization of how much I have yet to learn. I want to have Him live in me and through me. I want Him to guide my footsteps, lead me through the minefield, and make me holy. I want my body and my life to be an emblem of God's glory, something that points to Him for all to see-- something that makes people not even see me at all. Only Him.
To that end, daddy said there was only one thing I need to focus on. He said not to pray about losing weight, or even getting healthy, not to pray that the scale would show my efforts, not to allow that demon called disappointment to speak into my soul. He said to focus all my heart on one thing. That God would give me the desire to live a holy life, a desire to do as He said in His Word to take care of my body as His temple. God doesn't give us desires unless he also provides the fulfillment.
So my prayer is that God would give me the desire to be so completely His and for His glory, that I can't help but live that out in all I do, including the things I eat or don't eat, the things I drink or don't drink, the clothes I wear, the relationships I have. I want Him to be my motivation for every little piece of my life. If my sole, whole purpose is to glorify God, and I let the Holy Spirit guide me in all my appetites and desires, then it ceases to be about hitting the right number on the scale or fitting into the right size skirt.
It's a whole new way of looking at this whole thing, and one that I just completely missed, until now. As I said, I'm still mucking through my brain, discarding thought processes that don't serve the King, re-learning to look at what I put in my body as an act of service and worship, and letting the Holy Spirit produce fruit in my life. I'm learning to desire that one particular fruit that has always confounded me: self-control.
Much love,
LL~