God is humanity's best friend

The fat I used to fear so much is welcome on my frame now. Ever since gaining weight, I feel more healthy, wholesome, human...and I am even enjoying the way I look. Thank You for this quiet revolution, Father.

Never again shall I long for a languishing frame. Thank God for restoration....If not for His grace, I may have died by my own foolish hand. A certain number on the scale simply isn't worth one's life.

Meanwhile, the world is so dark, becoming more evil day by day. Are the rumors of FEMA concentration camps and guillotines true? Though I'd die for God if that is His will, I confess I am very disturbed by the thought of Satan's schemes against God's people.

Hopefully the rapture is real, though saints have been martyred all through time. If I must have such a fate, please grant me courage. Please also awaken more and more people around the world to the truth.

God, I love You, and I know You are the Way, the Truth, and the Life. You have been so patient with me, and have helped me through every trial. You are my best friend, Lord. Thank You for your fellowship.

God's healing love

In troubled times I tend to forget that God is in control, that He will provide as He always has. In the middle of 2020, I am in an entirely different state of mind than a couple of years ago when I started recovering from anorexia. Then I dealt with a personal crisis, and now I am dealing with a worldwide crisis.

An entry I wrote on Valentine's Day at the start of my recovery reminds me of God's personalized provision. He helped me then, and He will continue to help me (and all of us) now. Here is the entry:

As I write in the backyard, I hear the familiar call of a mourning dove. This bird represents God's Spirit, anointing, and calling. Earlier as I walked to the library, I looked up to see a beautiful mourning dove perched upon a wire, looking down at me...and I felt God watching over me as well.

No rain fell yesterday. However, early this morning I awakened and stepped outside into the gently falling rain, an answer to my prayers. God awakened me at just the right time, because the rain stopped soon afterward.

On the way home after the library, I looked up to see a cloud in the shape of a heart. Thank You, God....You really love me. Finally, at the top of a hill, I looked up to see a cross...the highest symbol of love.

Happy "Valentine's Lent" indeed -- this Lent, I'm participating in an unusual fast to break the influence and bondage of Leviathan, a demonic spirit that has infiltrated my life.

Last Sunday, because of Lent, the pastor preached about fasting. He advised people to skip meals and control their portions. He mentioned fasting "tricks" that I know well.

As he spoke, dark memories of the struggle with anorexia stirred in my heart, and I remembered the constant hunger, the fear, the grief, the shame of that long trial I by no means want to return to.

As we closed our eyes, bowed our heads, and prayed, I couldn't hold back honest tears, and I remembered another time that happened...in seventh grade, after the class watched a movie about alcohol addiction in the family. No one in the church knew, nor could they help, nor would they understand if I tried to explain. Yet as the church recited prayers of fluff, God caught the tears that fell from my eyes, and I felt His loving presence.

Anorexia is not my identity. Looking at photos from that time, I now see the extent of my illness, how hard I tried to be someone I am not. As long as I could see a thin face in the mirror...though never thin enough...I didn't care if my body stopped working. Thank God I am now free.

Anorexia recovery is more like growing up than healing from an illness

Some people's entire existence is a lie. By trying to become superhuman, flawless, and angelic, they end up less than human. These are narcissists I'm thinking of...and we mere peons dare not question their motives or see through the facade.

Yet God tells us to test the spirits. We must, lest these pied pipers lead us to Hell with their mind control. Sometimes evil appears so good.

God's will isn't for people to be superhuman. Demons may help people perform illusory wonders and appear to be superhuman. Yet Jesus Himself constantly pointed toward the Father as the source of His power and goodness.

Therefore, I am content to be human...fully human, even all too human. God is the only hero. May I never pretend to be more than I am.

Sometimes I wind up at a crossroad, and I must make a decision. The decision is difficult because sacrifice is involved. Yet I follow God's will....

The choice I face now is to remain a perpetual child, or grow up and "put away childish things."

Childhood is a fun time of no responsibility....The imagination is free to run wild. Children are dependent, taken care of by others.

In contrast, adulthood is often dreary and difficult. Life becomes about taking care of others. In the past, people had no choice; growing up physically meant growing up mentally and spiritually. These days, people may choose whether to grow up or not -- in the mental and spiritual sense -- and many never do.

Yet I choose maturity, adulthood...to grow up, be responsible, leave childhood behind; life has now become about serving God and people.

Rather than simply being the rather modest creature God created me to be, I could devote my energy toward trying to stand out, show off my uniqueness to the world, and become an ideal fantasy version of myself. Life could be a competition of who is the most special of all, as I try with all of my might to become this superhuman. Yet becoming more than I am is impossible, and therefore must be obtained via deception...and I am not willing to live a lie.

Instead of trying to be who I am not, or even trying to be the best version of who I am...or who I think I want to be...I leave competition behind and choose simple contentment instead. Instead of extraordinariness, I choose ordinariness. Instead of my will, I choose God's will.

God's grace is enough, since no one else helped me with anorexia

In my experience, sermons at traditional churches can sometimes be more harmful than helpful.

For example, I found this journal entry I wrote a couple of years ago when I was first recovering from anorexia:

Today I visited church again. Lent, which I'm not participating in -- at least not in the traditional way -- starts this week, so the sermon was about fasting. The pastor told everyone to have self-control by giving up food for a day, or at least a meal. He planted subtle seeds of shame for enjoying food, disliking hunger, and eating three meals per day.

The words struck my heart right in the place of a recently healed wound that is still tender. The pastor instructed us to be anorexic....He taught rules I know well. As we prayed, I couldn't hold back tears prompted by dark memories of losing my little brother, frightening sickness, the concentration camp of graduate school...the long, grueling, colorless year of bondage with no one to talk to, no one to help or understand except God.

No one saw the tears, and I could tell no one, because no one would understand.

Yet as everyone's heads were obediently bowed and their eyes closed, oblivious to the pain searing the hearts of their Christian brothers and sisters around them -- not even wanting to know -- God caught the tears, and I sensed His presence...not because of, but in spite of where I was.

* * *

Sadly, church seems to be a social club of sorts for most people, rather than a place to really care for one another. Not once during my struggle with anorexia did I feel secure enough to share my struggle with anyone at church. Instead, I felt pressure to act cheerful and pretend I had no troubles at all.

One may argue that is my own problem, or a problem with that particular church...but I have been to many churches, and most of them are like that. Therefore I worked through anorexia in silence, with only God to help me. Of course God is enough, as He cured me...though the fact that I always felt compelled to hide my troubles rather than reveal them to fellow Christians indicates a serious flaw in postmodern "Christian culture."