Tuesday, January 2, 2018

Forbidden Love



So if the Son sets you free, you will be free indeed.  John 8:36

Elementary school has the amazing potential to influence the course of an impressionable child’s life.  For myself, not only were the seeds of knowledge planted during my years spent within the confines of its walls, but another, more mysterious seed took root.  This seed, if given proper care and carefully controlled, has the potential to grow into a beautiful flowering vine like the wisteria, springing forth to display a symphonic canopy of cascading flowers.  But if left unattended away from the watchful eye of its caretaker this same vine can become deadly.  Tentacles, rapidly growing with reptilian-like stealth, reaching far beyond its source, encircling its prey to squeeze the very life from it.  Not only did elementary school serve to teach reading, writing and arithmetic, but it also introduced me to a love that would quickly grow as rampant, uncontrolled and deadly as a wisteria vine.

My memory fails as to when the daily ritual originated.  Kindergarten?  First grade?  The time is irrelevant.  Away from my mother’s watchful eye and in the company of teachers who could care less, my love affair with food began.  It came in the guise of a small carton and was innocently called mid-morning milk.  Each day, with milk money in hand I waited with anticipation for that beautiful tray to arrive in the classroom.  The display of pint-sized cartons was lovely!  Red and white ones placed alongside the brown and white.   I remember thinking, “Who would want to drink plain old white milk?”  For me, that thick, creamy and sweet concoction of chocolate milk was only a request away.  It soon gripped me with vice-like strength, but thankfully I was able to get my daily fix.  It wasn’t long before I ventured from just the chocolate milk to cookies, cakes and ice cream.  It didn’t matter the form…sugar was my addiction even before I knew such a word existed. 

Looking back I realize my dad was a fellow addict (Note…he died from asbestosis in his early fifties, having never gained freedom from the bondage of food).  Overweight and unable to control his eating habits, I benefitted from his addiction.  Our home not only provided shelter, it also provided an endless supply of sweet treats and junk food.  We never ran out.  As I grew older, I knew I needed to stop.  I wasn’t oblivious to my growing waistline, but stopping seemed impossible so why even try?  I had failed before I began.  Accompanying my weight gain was an ever increasing self-hatred.  Soon, two unlikely bedfellows became my best friends.  I dwelt with the comfort of food addiction and the agony of self-hatred.  

The vicious battle raged on day after day.  My mind said, “Stop!” while my body said, “No!”  I learned to flip the switch of my mind off during meals and snack time and give complete control over to my body.  The rush I felt as I took bite after bite…the sugary and fatty foods stimulating that euphoric sensation…I wanted more…I needed more.  When I was too full to eat another bite, I’d flip the switch to my brain back on and guilt would immediately wash over me.  “You did it again, Sabrina!”  I hated myself for it and vowed to do better next time except when next time came, off went the brain and the body took control.  Unbeknownst to me at the time, it had become an automatic reaction.  Numerous times a day.  Day after day.  The wisteria-like vine of food addiction wrapped its tentacles ever tighter and as I grew older that vine grew into an invincible, monstrous behemoth.

In time, food addiction and self-hatred were joined by depression and self-mutilation.  Each vying for my attention.  Food addiction soothing me.  Self-hatred plunging me deeper into depression.  Self-mutilation taunting me to physically abuse myself because I hated being fat!  It wasn’t long before the voice of suicide chimed in, but thankfully I gave it no heed although the thought of going to sleep and never waking, at times, felt like the only solution.  As I reached my late twenties, another, more powerful voice entered the scene.  His Name?  Jesus!

The years after I met Jesus were filled with much change for the good (and continue to this very day).  Suicide, self-hatred and self-mutilation were banished forever.  Depression continued to visit occasionally, but food addiction never left.  I cried out to God.  I searched scripture.  I thought for sure He could deliver me, but the behemoth refused to budge.  A couple of times I gained mastery over him but he came back full-force.  All seemed hopeless.  It was when God whispered to my heart about the situation that I had an epiphany.  The behemoth didn’t budge because I was too scared to let him go.  All the while wanting him to leave…demanding that he leave…I had chained myself to him.  God wanted to deliver me, but I had to want the deliverance and I had to muster up the courage to release this forbidden lover.  The lover who had comforted me since I was a small child.  This lover who soothed my bad days and brought with him a high that was absolutely divine!  I knew I had to let him go, yet I continued to cling to him.  I questioned myself.  I questioned God.  This behemoth had become an idol replacing God in that area of my life.  I had to let him go.  I couldn’t let him continue to take God’s place anywhere in my life.  I needed a plan of attack then God showed me the way.

God led me to a whole food plant-based way of eating…in short, no oils, eggs, dairy or any other animal products whatsoever.  I live solely on fruits, vegetables, grains, breads and potatoes.  It may sound strict but in actuality I eat a greater variety of foods that I ever have and I feel amazing!  It wasn’t easy in the beginning because there were withdrawals from the sugar and fat that needed to be dealt with, but once I was past that point there was no turning back.  I was finally able to chop down the tendrils of food addiction.  Oh, the joy of not being slave to that behemoth any longer!  In addition, other wonderful things happened. Depression no longer visits.  My skin is smooth and silky and my nails are growing for the first time in my life!  Headaches…gone.  Joint aches and pains…gone.  Forty pounds…gone.  I’ve even had to switch back to an older pair of eyeglasses because my eyesight has improved!  I am fueling my body with the foods that provide health benefits and not death benefits.  And most importantly…food is no longer an idol that I have erected in God’s place.  I still have to be watchful because one small piece of sugar-laden food can invite that monster back.  No thank you…I will continue to walk in the deliverance that God gave me!  Although the battle with food addiction was one of the hardest I’ve faced, I am thankful for it.  It is through all that I’ve experienced that God led me to the field of nutrition.  While it’s not quite been a year that I’ve rid my life of food addiction, I feel more equipped than ever to move forward and be used by God to help others find the road to victory!

Friday, July 28, 2017

A New Heart



And I will give you a new heart, and I will put a new spirit in you.  I will take out your stony, stubborn heart and give you a tender, responsive heart—Jeremiah 36:26 NLT

The heart is a phenomenal muscle.  Each minute it pumps 1.5 gallons of blood throughout the body and beats 100,000 times a day.  It also has its own electrical supply and will continue to beat for a short time absent from the body.  Isn’t that amazing!?  While the heart is faithful to continue its good work, it is also used for something entirely different.  It is the seat of emotions and has the ability to make us feel things such as joy, sadness, and fear.  While we are thankful the heart continues beating and keeps our blood circulating, sometimes we are not thankful when our heart feels raw and unpleasant emotions.  Who wants a broken and hurting heart, right?  Well, let me give you something to mull over—a broken heart might not be such a bad thing.

I’ve prayed many prayers in my walk with the Lord.  I can remember some while others, once whispered, are caught up with the wind and fly away never to be remembered (*a side note:  be careful what you pray for…God remembers even if you don’t).  Sometimes God reminds me of particular requests that I have brought before Him and each time He does that, I find it to be a learning and growing moment.  Recently, one such instance happened.

It was late, and I was heading to my car after a long day at work.  My office is in the bustling downtown area of a large city where stray dogs are a rarity.  Not on this day.  There were two of them in the parking lot.  One, a momma dog who’d obviously just had puppies, drank skittishly from a large puddle of water near my car, and the other stood not too far away.  As I approached, Momma stopped drinking and eyed me warily ready to run at a seconds notice.  Aside from skin and bones, something else stood out—their tails hung low.  They were starving AND downcast.  

I am a dog lover!  If there’s a dog around I’m going to pet it.  Oh how I wanted to befriend these two castaways, but I knew that I would only give them false hope so I ignored them and got into my car; my heart now broken in two.  I immediately began to beg, “Lord, please protect them.  Lord, please bring them a family who will love them and feed them and take good care of them.  Their tails are hanging low!  They’re so sad.”  On and on I bombarded Heaven on their behalf, angry that they were left to fend for themselves and sad because the world is full of the starving and cast aside—not only animals, but people too.  Sadly, this is the world we live in.  

My heart hurt so badly that I wanted the pain to go away.  Why, oh why did my heart have to hurt this way?  Lord, why?  In answer to that question, He so lovingly interrupted my plea with the remembrance of a prayer—one asking Him for the ability to love like He loves.  One begging Him to give me a heart of flesh that feels love and compassion for all His creation.  The pain that consumed me at that very moment…the intense pain I so desperately wanted to be relieved of was in fact an answered prayer.  Wow!

It took a few minutes to let that one soak in.  I sat silent, trying to wrap my mind around what had just happened.  In all God’s glory, He had imparted unto me the gift of unconditional love and with it came the realization that sometimes love and pain are bound together.  The capacity to love so deeply that your heart aches.  Yes, I asked for it and He answered.

What a gift the Lord has bestowed upon me!  To love like Jesus loves.  The intertwining of my heart with His agape love.  The kind of love that says sometimes it's better be quiet than right.  The kind of love that quickly offers forgiveness and takes no offense when wronged.  A love that sees past the angry exterior of a person and looks at their heart and their hurt.  The kind of love that enables one to hurt deeply out of compassion for someone else.  It brings to your knees.  It allows you to view each and every person as the precious child of God they are.  A child created in His image.  

Do I regret my request?  A resounding no!  I’ve learned to lean into the pain and, at times, envision myself lifting my aching heart to the Heavens and giving it to Him.  This newfound love brings me to prayer.  It enables me to put myself aside and boldly go to the throne of grace and mercy and make requests to God on behalf of someone else.  This gift is indeed a priceless treasure and I am so thankful I asked for it.

Tuesday, July 11, 2017

The Day I Met Moses



"Blessed are the meek: for they shall inherit the earth"  Matthew 5:5

Some people come into our lives for only a brief moment, and in that small window of time they leave a lasting impression.  That’s what Moses did. 
 
I have the privilege of working at a church that is nestled smack dab in downtown Beaumont, Texas.  Now, mind you, my office is tucked away and I rarely see the guests who come into the church for assistance, but on occasion we cross paths.

One afternoon, I was in the office talking with a coworker when he came in.  He was accompanied by one of the directors of our soup kitchen.  He was her helper that day.  The courteous black gentleman introduced himself, “I’m Moses, just like in the Bible.”  We chatted a bit before they were on their way.  That’s it.  No fanfare.  Nothing spectacular.  It was a simple, short chat and it was over, but there was something about Moses.

Moses was dressed for doing the Lord’s work, and it was evident that he took utmost pride in that fact.  He wore a suit jacket, sweat pants and the brightest, friendliest smile.  The man that stood before me was indeed a rich man.  Though he was not rich by the world’s standards, the riches he possessed could not be purchased with money.  It was truly an honor to meet Moses.

Moses has since gone on to be with the Lord.  I look forward to the day that I get to see him again, but until then, that brief memory will always bring a smile to my face and happiness to my heart.