Fit, Fat, and the Temple of the Living God

This morning I walked through a weekly ritual. I locked the bedroom door, took a deep breath, exhaled, and stepped onto the bathroom scale.

The number on the scale was right around the same as it has been. No change.

Then, with another deep breath, I went to my dresser and got out my tape measure. I wrapped it around my body in all the different places. With each new wrap I noted the numbers, right around the same as they have been. No change.

I've been doing this dance for more than a month at this stretch, but in reality, it's been a lifelong endeavor - the effort to make this body of mine change into something I can more fully appreciate.

For the last month or so, I have watched my calories carefully, been drinking more water (although still not the gallon I should be drinking every day), and committed myself to being more active.

I tried going low carb/carb cycling, with disastrous results. It didn't make me lose weight, but it did make me an emotional and psychological train wreck. Not everything is for everybody, apparently.

However, carb cycling or no, physical laws dictate that a calorie deficit over a prolonged period of time should lead to weight loss.

Apparently, I'm a law breaker.

Also, for the last 3 years, I've been taking supplements that, typically, aid people in weight management (if that's what their bodies need). They've changed my entire life, helping me through two pregnancies, and giving me back energy and great sleep when I thought I'd never feel great again. But unlike others, I haven't lost weight.

Recently, because of all this difficulty, I started to look into weight loss surgery. I mean, the weight HAS to come off somehow right? The temple of God, the dwelling place of the Holy Spirit, can't STAY fat, can it? I can't just stay this way forever...right?

But wait. Why not? What is truly at the heart of my desperation to lose weight and be thinner?

Other people's opinions. 

My "target audience" may have changed some over the years, but it doesn't really change the fact that I'm worried about how my body looks because of how I might be perceived. Now, as I sit on the cusp of some sort of ministry, I fear how those listening will think about my witness.

Will they ignore my words because they think I'm a hypocrite? As I speak about identity, calling, and purpose, will my message get lost because, to the world, my body screams louder "gluttony" and "sloth"?

Maybe, but those are really the wrong questions. They're firmly rooted in pride and selfishness. What if we change it up a bit?

What if, instead, the question is, "If I'm doing everything reasonable to take care of my body, and it still looks this way, is there a possibility God wants it to look this way?"

It almost sounds like an impossibility, given the aversion to fat in our society. Weight loss is practically synonymous with piety, and there are entire ministries (even churches) devoted to the practice.

I'm not knocking those things. Some of them are amazing, Biblically-focused ministries that help people regain a healthy perspective on food and their bodies. I think they're great, but I also think one very important component is missing from the discussion: my body is holy, just the way it is.

Therefore, I urge you, brothers and sisters,

in view of God's mercy,

to offer your bodies as a living sacrifice,

holy and pleasing to God-

this is your true and proper worship.

Romans 12:1

I used to read that verse and feel pressure and shame, thinking, in order for my body to be a holy and pleasing sacrifice, it needed to look different; or at least, I needed to be moving in the right direction. It felt like the Holy Spirit had to just be ACHING to live in a body that was thinner and more pleasing to God.

But y'all, that is just crap theology, and let me tell you why.

Before I was saved by the blood of Christ, there was nothing in the world I could do, no matter how "good" I was (or how good I looked) to make my body "holy and pleasing to God." Apart from God, none of it is good enough.

But, as soon as I recognized sacrifice of Christ in my life, my body became holy and pleasing. I was washed clean, and nothing can change that.

Therefore, if anyone is in Christ,

he is a new creation.

The old has passed away;

behold, the new has come.

2 Corinthians 5:17

I'm doing what I can to be healthy, but even if I wasn't, even if I was stewarding my body poorly, that would be sad, and God might work through the Holy Spirit to convict me and change my path, but my body would still be holy and pleasing to Him because it's covered by the blood of Christ. 

And that is precisely why I present my body as a sacrifice, because He has saved me and made me pure, no matter what. His great forgiveness, grace, and mercy inspire me to make changes because He has made me clean when no amount of my own behavior could do it.

Furthermore, there is no place in the Bible that says God prefers one body type over another. What it DOES say, however, is that God doesn't look at physical appearance, but at the heart (1 Samuel 16:7). He says that I have been remarkably and distinctly made, knit together in my mother's womb, that He sees me, knows me, and loves me (which is a whole conglomeration of verses - if you want references, let me know). 

Maybe, just maybe, my body looks just like it should at this moment in time, in His timing and for His purposes. Maybe, "All things work together for the good of those who love God and are called according to His purpose" (Romans 8:28) REALLY means "all things" and my appearance is part of that.

Maybe, just maybe, I can look just like I do, and still be walking in God's will, or even, actively fulfilling a purpose in it.

Maybe, if I finally learn to accept my body in this moment, just as it is, God can use me to inspire someone else to see themselves as God sees them - as fully known, seen, and loved. Then maybe, just maybe, they can inspire someone else, too.

And those "maybes" are enough for me.

Making a Move

**Today's post is brought to you today by my husband, Josiah!!**

For Alissa and I, we are in a season of transitions.

*Destiny will soon be heading off to college.
*Alissa is due to have baby number 6 in around 3 weeks.
*We are looking at a house in order to fit the needs of our growing family a little better.
*My car just sipped the last gallon of it's life, in all likelihood.
*I have been in a position where I've been required to work 6 to 7 days for a while now,     and that in turn has had its effects on things.

Case in point...a season of transitions.

We have also been talking for a while as to whether or not we should visit another church, and if we did, what we would look for in one, but we always put it off thinking “but we love our friends and the connections we have made, and how on earth do we leave them?”

For weeks, because of my work schedule, we were not able to attend church on Sunday together. So understanding the difficulty my quite pregnant wife would have trying to wrangle 5 children with the 6th on the way...we decided she shouldn't be doing church by herself on Sunday morning.

Instead, we would fill the gap by visiting a church that we had visited twice before when things were in similar circumstances. On a Saturday night.

Logistically, it made a ton of sense. It's much easier to make sure everyone is functioning at a decent level, fed, clean, and dressed by 6:30 in the evening than it is in order to make the early service at 9 am, or Sunday school at 10. I also would be off of work in plenty of time to do that as well.

Not only that, but  I am not willing to sacrifice worshiping God as family, spending that time together and the conversations that it opens later, 

So, the first Saturday we walk in... the praise and worship isn't traditional, and it's not contemporary, and it's not gospel...it's all of it. The band is pouring their hearts out on stage to God, and the congregation has its hands up and tears in their eyes, singing for God's glory.

I was. My wife was. My kids were.

The message was powerful. It struck a chord with everyone in our family that heard it, and the message relayed to me after I picked up the little ones was one from the kids that “I need Jesus. I need God.”

After some time of discussion and attending the next week, seeing excitement in Emily about her spiritual growth and how some of messages impacted her, I encouraged her to visit the youth group. She left so excited she barely left room to breathe.

The ride home we didn't talk about her most recent favorite boy band or musician or somebody she met...

She was so impacted by the message. It was exactly what she needed, when she needed it, put in a way that was completely accessible, doable, and made so much sense to her.

She had a fire inside of her that I hadn't seen in her before.

Little Phinehas and Avery have been coming home and singing “Jesus loves me” in the car.

So we have had a discussion with our pastor, and told him that we felt God was calling us to a new church home: Freedom Life. He told us he was glad we were listening for God and wanting to do what God was calling us to. He was very encouraged that we were following the Holy Spirit...that's why we love him so much.

We have decided that we don't have a choice.

As the head of our household, I have to nurture spiritual growth in my children; I have to challenge them.

And I can't tell you how excited I am to see this seed planted and growing in our entire family.

There is a season and a time for everything, and we know that God has used and will use everything that has occurred and has yet to occur for His glory. We appreciate the role MBC has played and love the people we have come to know. The pastor has our utmost respect and admiration.

The only reason Alissa and I are saying any of this is because we know people leaving a church can sometimes be...well...awkward. Do you say something? Do you simply disappear? Who do you tell?

But we don't really feel like we're “leaving” the church at all. We might not still attend worship in that building, but the “church” isn't a building, it's the body of believers in Christ Jesus, and we aren't leaving the people we love at all.

We are not abandoning our friendships. We will continue to care for you and pray for you, and we would love to continue to spend time with you.

We still need you in our lives as mentors, people that pray for us, and people that we can still invest in.

We are casting our nets to the other side of the boat, so to speak, because we feel that's what God has called us to, and we already seeing some of the blessing He has in store.

We can look back and be excited and see God's hand in where we have been, and where we are going, and we trust Him to lead us.

As time goes by, there will probably be more and more references to our new church home here and on facebook, so we wanted to be clear about what was going on with us.

Wish us well and pray for us! We are praying for our church family, too...no matter the building in which they worship, or whether they worship in a building at all.

Celebrating Dependence Day

Today's post is brought to you by a lot of pain and turmoil, and just as a warning, it's pretty long. All of my posts are "real," but this one is a little raw.

Josiah and I have been arguing far more than normal lately. Frankly, we don't argue much, so any amount is more than normal, but the last couple weekends have been rough...

Verbal, knock-down, drag-out rough.

Screaming, crying, cussing, about to yank off the steering wheel rough.

I'm not going to go into the reasons for the arguments because, really, they're beside the point. I am, however, going to reveal how the Holy Spirit has been working in our lives through it because there are a couple of critical lessons I want to share.

This week's fighting started on Friday afternoon with one VERY poorly expressed text on my part. That's all it took...one text. From there, Josiah felt disrespected. I felt unloved. "The Crazy Cycle" had begun (for more on the Crazy Cycle, look up Love and Respect, by Dr. Emmerson Eggerichs).

The cycle churned on into Friday night and, and by Saturday morning, I wouldn't even let him kiss me goodbye when he went to work. By Saturday afternoon, we had said some things that I thought might have caused irreparable damage.

Throughout all this, my sweet sis-in-law, Jamie, was checking in with me to make sure I was okay, and praying for me.

Jamie is one of my people. She's a safe place for me to land my deepest thoughts and my worst marital (or other) issues. She will always protect my marriage and point me toward Jesus.

At one point, Jamie encouraged me to just give everything over to God, to lay it at His feet. She said she just wanted to urge me to put on my armor and get out there and fight.

My reply wasn't pretty.

I told her I couldn't fight anymore. I told her I had, quite literally, laid down and told Jesus that I was ready to just let Satan have it because I couldn't fight anymore. I had prayed and cried and been on my knees, and I just couldn't do it anymore. My armor was war-torn and missing, and I was dying on the battlefield. 

None of that is easy to type. It's pretty embarrassing. I'm pretty ashamed that those were my words...but they were. It's honest.

However, even though I had already spoken those words to Jesus, the process of writing them and reading them brought on such a strong conviction from the Holy Spirit.

I typed back to Jamie, Crap! Fine! I'll get one my knees one more time. Okay???

I dragged myself into the bedroom, dropped to my knees, and cried out to Jesus. There was no eloquent prayer, no recitation of scripture...just sobbing and sighing and Jesus help me.

Finally, when I was all cried out, I laid my pregnant self down on the floor. The only thing that came to mind was the song Holy Spirit by Francesca Battistelli.

Holy Spirit you are welcome here,

come flood this place and fill the atmosphere.

Your glory God is what our hearts long for,

to be overcome by your presence, Lord.

Over and over, I mumbled the words, until finally, I again had the strength to stand and go back in with my kiddos.

I would LOVE to tell you that, because of all that, my heart was ready to greet Josiah when he walked through the door, but that's just not the case. I am PRIDE-FULL, ya'll. I know that's not actually how you spell prideful, but it's really the most accurate representation of the real me.

Pride-FULL. FULL of PRIDE. That's me,

Lately, Josiah has been working on Sundays, so we've been going to Saturday services at Freedom Life Church in Hampton. We grudgingly got ready for church, not speaking to or looking at one another.

When it was time to leave, Josiah was in the restroom, and I didn't even tell him we were getting in the car. I just got the kids together and got in the van. For a split second I almost got into the driver's seat...almost. But I felt the Holy Spirit's nudge and walked around to the passenger seat.

What I didn't know until much later was that Josiah didn't think he was going to go to church with us at all...until he looked out and saw I was already in the passenger's seat. I had left the driver's seat open for him.

We drove to church in silence. I let him and Emily take the babies to the nursery as I trudged to the doors of the church...and then, a Lindsay happened. 

Lindsay is always the most REAL person you can imagine. Her favorite phrase is "just keepin' in real," and that means one thing...you can always be real WITH Lindsay, too.

I grabbed her and gave her a hug that you can only give someone who accepts you like that...the kind where you grab on for dear life and hold on for way too long.

And then I wasn't trudging into church alone...I was heading in with my sister in Christ. And that makes all the difference.

Sometime during the praise and worship, my heart was finally set free and I tried to grab hold of Josiah's hand...and he wouldn't budge...but I held on tight. I knew I just had to hold on tight.

And then...the Holy Spirit had us...both of us, and we held on to one another...and healing began.

In this long, long narrative, there are two lessons I'd like to highlight.

The first is this: we all need a Jamie and a Lindsay...and a few more besides. I am so grateful God has placed these godly women, among other people, in my life. We cannot traverse this earthly journey alone. God made us for relationships.

Iron sharpens iron,

and one man sharpens another.

Proverbs 27:17

Two are better than one

because they have a good reward for their efforts.

For if either falls, his companion can lift him up;

but pity the one who falls without another to lift him up.

Ecclesiastes 4:9-10

Saturday night, Pastor Freddy finished up a sermon series on Nehemiah. He said God placed Nehemiah exactly where he was in order to give him influence with the people he needed to in order to accomplish God's purpose.

He said God has also placed US exactly where we are, in a certain sphere of influence, in order to affect the people around us to accomplish God's purposes. 

Find people to walk with who will point you to Christ and lift you up in prayer, even when...especially when...you feel like you can't do it yourself.

And BE that person to the people around you, as well.

Second, always get on your knees one more time...and then, one more time after that.

In my prideful despair, I felt like putting on my armor and fighting meant being brave and standing up, but in reality, it simply meant getting on my knees and crying out to Jesus.

He's already won the battle. He already has the victory. Crying out to Him IS how we fight. Giving it all to him and admitting we can't do it alone IS how we stand firm in battle. 

I know...it's counter-intuitive.

But he said to me, "My grace is sufficient for you,

for power is perfected in weakness."

Therefore, I will most gladly boast all the more about my weaknesses,

so that Christ's power will reside in me.

So I take pleasure in weaknesses, insults, catastrophes,

persecutions, and in pressures, concerning Christ.

For when I am weak,

then I am strong.

2 Corinthians 12:9-10

That verse took on new meaning for me yesterday.

And that's why I dragged you through the entire narrative. I'm a story-teller, it's what I do, but I firmly believe that Jamie's encouragement to put on my armor led to my submission to Christ on my knees, and that allowed the Holy Spirit to work in me enough to bring forth healing in our brokenness. 

Today, we celebrate Independence Day. I'm very proud to be a citizen of this great country, despite what may be occurring presently in the political realm, and I'm very grateful for the men and women who have fought for my freedom.

However, even more than that, today, I celebrate my dependence on Christ.

The sacrifice he made wasn't in battle, but he laid down his life for me. And now, through my dependence on Him, I am made free.

So if the Son sets you free,

you will be free indeed.

John 8:36

Celebrate FREEDOM today, my friends! Happy Dependence Day!

Let Me Be Specific

Sometimes, I have an idea for a blog post, but then a few weeks go by, and it becomes passé, irrelevant.

At other times, like now, it sticks around, nagging me. Weeks go by, and while seemingly unimportant, the subject hangs out, buzzing insistently around my head like a mosquito.

So, today's post is brought to you by the Holy Spirit...aka an annoying mosquito.

Today, Josiah and I will complete the third of four classes to get our Prepare Enrich certification. For those of you who are unfamiliar, Prepare Enrich is a FANTASTIC assessment tool for pre-married or married couples which helps them grow closer in a myriad of ways. REALLY awesome.

About a month ago we met with Keith Tully of FamilyLife via video conference. At that point, we already knew about Prepare Enrich, but he urged us to take the class to get certified and said, if at all possible we HAD to take the class with Bob and Diane Ruthazer in Richmond.

So, as God would have it, there was a class starting in just a couple weeks. We signed up, and that was that!

However, as the time crept closer to the class, some of the excitement gave way to trepidation. Do we even belong in this class? We haven't even been married that long? Should we be doing this?

I prayed fervently. I prayed specifically: God please help me...please help us, give us reassurance, that You are going to use us to enrich the marriages in our church and community.

The day came. Josiah and I sat down at our seats, and the class started...and so did the enemy.

First, we went around the room introducing ourselves and saying whether we had children and how many: Alissa and Josiah Coburn, 5 children. Easy. But then...then Bob started talking about how mentor couples are not novices, they've normally been married 8-10 years.

Um...that's not us,

Then as he was talking he asked if anyone had been married 5 years or less. We raised our hands, and though he didn't say or do anything to indicate that we should be ashamed, I was, nevertheless humiliated.

I wanted to crawl under the table. 

I sat there thinking, we shouldn't be here. We don't belong here. Why did Keith send us here?!

The first break came, and I just knew Bob was going to come over to us and start asking us questions about why we were there. I just knew he was going to tell us we didn't belong there.

As soon as the break started, his wife, Diane, got up from her place, and walked straight toward us. I braced myself for the worst. I had defenses ready. And then she said....

Are you all a blended family? We nodded. God is going to use you!!

I felt like Jesus reached down right there and wrapped his arms around me. I could feel him comforting me.

We went on to talk. I told her I was feeling insecure, and she just brushed it off, reminding us that having a blended family speeds things up. We face issues some couples don't face for years. She assured us that we most certainly belong there.

She assured us, again, that God will use us.

The exact words I prayed before the class. The same thing. God answered my prayer through that sweet woman when I was ready to crawl under the table, bury my head in the sand, admit defeat.

I've been trying to figure out what the moral of this story is, other than "God spoke to me."

I guess it could be that He cares. He cares about the BIG things, but He also cares about the minuscule...the little thoughts and feelings we have that we think He's too big to ever care about.

That's a good moral...but I still don't think that's it...at least, not entirely.

No, I think it's the power of the specific prayer. I think it's trusting God enough to pray to Him and ask Him for very specific things. I don't know about you, but I'm scared to do this sometimes.

I think, sometimes, I'm scared to pray too specifically because, what if I'm wrong? What if I pray for the wrong thing? Or what if He doesn't answer? What does that mean?

The Bible reminds us, though, that the Holy Spirit lives within believers, and the Holy Spirit IS God, and because of that, He always prays for us, in accordance with His own, perfect will (Romans 8:26-27, paraphrase.)

I can't pray wrong.

Furthermore, if I'm afraid to pray very specifically because I'm afraid He won't answer, then the only thing I've done is ensure that He won't. God cannot answer a prayer I never pray. 

I am limiting God. I am limiting His influence in my life.

God's answer may not always be, YES, but He will always answer. But only when our prayers are specific can we see His power moving in our lives.

Today, meditate on God's word. Pray about a situation in your life, and ask for something very specifically. I'm not saying He'll give it to you today. I'm not saying He'll give it to you tomorrow. But He will answer you, and by praying specifically, you are reinforcing your faith in Him and putting it very squarely into His Hands.

And they are mighty capable hands.