A Winning Wardrobe

I had it all planned out.

Don't most humbling, slap-you-in-the-face moments start that way?

A few nights ago, I lay in bed thinking about exactly which outfits I would wear for the 5 days I'm going to be in Minnesota for the Ezer Collective. I was bubbling over with excitement.

A few weeks ago, I picked up a couple adorable clothing items from a second hand store. I tried them on briefly at home to make sure they fit, and Josiah seemed to think they were okay, so I thought they would fit fabulously into my trip wardrobe. (I tried them on for Josiah because we don't own a full-length mirror; if I ever look jacked up from the shoulders down, you now know why).

One was a plaid, tweed jacket that would look sophisticated and fun with skinny jeans and a white t-shirt. The other was a gorgeous, sheer red blouse (with the tags still on it) with slightly puffy sleeves and a ruffled collar. You just really can't GET more "me" than that.

The sheer blouse had a cami that came underneath it, but the thing was super short. When I tried it on the first time I looked like the female version of Winne the Pooh - NOT a flattering look. After purchasing a replacement cami yesterday, I came home and flew to the room to try it on.

The new cami felt just a little too long for the blouse, so I had Josiah take a picture to show me. It was TOO SMALL. The blouse I just adored felt comfortable but was far too snug, so not only was it a little short for the cami, but the last button pulled around my hips and accentuated my rolls.

NOOOOOOO!

"That's okay, though, right?" I thought. "Because that tweed jacket is going to be AWESOME!"

However, once I put it on again, I quickly noticed something that had completely escaped my attention the first time: that sucker had shoulder pads.

I don't know if you know this, but anything with shoulder pads makes a broad-shouldered girl look like the shortest linebacker in the NFL. It's not a good look.

Knowing we don't really have the funds for me to go shopping for new clothes right now, I fell to pieces. With the board for my "She is clothed in strength and dignity" sign slung haphazardly across the tops of my closet's louver doors (you can read more about that here), I stared into my closet seething, angry, and shattered, feeling clothed in very little strength and not a shred of dignity. Instead, I was clothed in a lot of sadness and boatloads of disappointment. I wailed about how I didn't have anything nice to wear and that I guess I'd just wear my "stupid, ''mom clothes."

Yes, you read that right. With people just hours south of here mourning the loss of everything they own due to Hurricane Michael, I mourned the loss of two items of clothing, which technically fit, but looked hideous. Not my finest moment.

As the hot tears slid down my face, leaving salty trails in my makeup, even I was surprised at the depth of emotion I felt over this seemingly insignificant event. "Why does this hurt so much?" I asked myself. "Why am I so devastated?"

And then, like Jack and Jill on their return voyage down the hill, the fears and insecurities tumbled out of me. They were numerous, but it all boiled down to this: I am afraid of being overlooked or disregarded because I'm old and fat.

I was super excited about the chic and fun outfits because I felt like they really represented me well...and because I feel like I need to do and be so much more to compensate for the fact that I'm truthfully "just" an overweight mom with seven kids. Even now, that makes my eyes sting with tears.

Unfortunately, there's actually some truth there, but it's mixed up with lies - Cocoa Pebbles in a bowl of sour milk.

If two women, one bigger and one smaller, put on the exact same outfit, nine times out of ten, the thinner woman would be taken more seriously, considered more attractive, hired for the job, etc. In many ways in our society, being bigger puts you at a disadvantage. That's the cold, hard truth.

The sour milk in the bowl, though, is the idea that I need these people's approval in order to fulfill my God-given calling. After a fitful night of sleep (or NOT sleep), I rose far before daylight and headed out to the beach to get my bearings. I knew there was truth I was missing, but I needed to be away from everyone with my God to figure it out.

There, in my van, in the dark hour just before dawn, I cried out to God and heard back, "Is anything impossible for the Lord?" I knew it was from the story of Abraham, Sarah, and Isaac, but I googled it to find its exact location (Genesis 18:14) . I didn't expect it to come up in three more places.

Oh Lord God!

You yourself made the

heavens and the earth

by Your great power and

with Your outstretched arm.

Nothing is too difficult for You!

Jeremiah 32:17

Look I am Yahweh,

the God of all flesh.

Is anything too difficult for Me?

Jeremiah 32:27

[Jesus] replied, 

"What is impossible with men

is possible with God."

Luke 18:27

And with those, this one popped into my head:

Now to Him who is able

to do above and beyond

all that we ask or think

according to the power that works in us,

to Him be the glory

in the church and in Christ Jesus

to all generations,

forever and ever.

Ephesians 3:20

My God can do more than I can even begin to imagine in order to fulfill His purposes for me.

• Sarah laughed when she was told she would bear a child because she knew she was too old. God gave her a child, Isaac.
• David was a shepherd boy no one thought anything of, not even enough to bring him in from the field while Samuel looked over Jesse's sons to see which would be king. God made him king.
• Elizabeth was too old to bear children and everyone thought she was barren. God gave her John, he who would pave the way for the Messiah.
• 
  

In each of these cases, God made his perfect plans work through imperfect, unlikely people. Why? To bring Him more glory because only HE could do those impossible things.

God asked Gideon to defeat the Midianites, who were oppressing His people. So, Gideon took 32,000 men with him to defeat the armies of Midian, a force that would probably have numbered in excess of 100,000. But the odds weren't stacked enough for God.

The Lord said to Gideon,

"You have too many people for Me

to hand the Midianites over to you,

or else Israel might brag:

'I did it myself.'"

Judges 7:2

Therefore, God made sure the Israelites knew no one but HE could have accomplished the victory by sending Gideon with just 300 men...and they defeated them not with swords, spears, and arrows, but with torches, trumpets, and terracotta pots - a truly divine upheaval.

Here's the thing: if I'm meant to connect with any of the women attending this thing in a way that will impact my future and God's purpose, then it won't matter if I'm wearing a burlap sac and Birks. 

It is not my wardrobe that will bring me through to my calling. It is not my gifts, talents, or bubbly personality. It is nothing other that the power of the living God working in and through me and my circumstances.

He gave me those tools, yes, but without Him, they still aren't enough to fulfill a God-sized purpose.

God will do what He wants, when He wants, through whom He wants, and if I'm willing to walk in obedience, there's nothing that's going to keep me from the calling He has put on my life.

So, I'm heading to Minnesota in just over a week clothed in strength, dignity, and outfits I already own. I won't be clothed in what I've planned, but now that the fears and insecurities have been dealt with, I can go clothed in what I should have been thinking of all along: the love of my Heavenly Father, the strength that comes from knowing His great power, the power given to me in Christ Jesus, and the authority I have been given as the daughter of the One, True King. THAT, my friends, is a winning wardrobe!

Now, get thee behind me, Satan, and observe this outfit from the back. I've got work to do.

When Ish Gets Heavy

Last week, our family decided it might be a lot of fun to pack a lunch and have a picnic at Buckroe Beach. The new pier has a large picnic shelter, and it's a pretty awesome space.

So, even though babies hadn't had naps, I hadn't showered, and the day just was not going well, we packed like 8 trillion peanut butter and banana sandwiches, chips, apples, and some bottled waters and loaded up the van.

When we arrived, each older kid grabbed a younger sibling, and headed across the field. Since Josiah's back has not been 100% lately, he pushed the youngest in the stroller, and I carried all the food.

To get to the picnic area on the pier, you have to cross a pretty decent sized field, and then, of course, walk the length of the pier itself. It's not a long walk, though, so initially I didn't bat an eye. I just slung the picnic bag across my body, grabbed the bag of bottled waters in one hand and another bag of random goodies in the other.

At first, it felt kind of nice to be carrying all that stuff. Sometimes, when I do things like that, I get an secret sense of pride that my body is capable of carrying heavy loads. It's like it wakes up my inner badass (yes, I said "badass." I couldn't think of another word that carried the same sentiment). I started across the field, back straight, with long, proud strides, rejecting any help offered by the kids. I got this.

Halfway across the field, though, the weight of the strap started to dig in to my shoulder and holding the bags away from my legs made my shoulders and forearms burn. What was an easy load at the outset was getting heavier with every step, and a quick jaunt across a field started to feel like crossing the state.

In that moment, I felt like I heard God say, "This is what it's like to follow My purpose for you carrying baggage you're not supposed to have."

A while back, there was a part of me that I'd come to recognize as extra baggage that I wasn't supposed to be carrying, but it had been with me my whole life. I considered it just "part of who I am." It was damaging, but comfortable, well-worn, and mine.

But when I asked a friend at church to pray for me and told her how I felt, that I just didn't want to let go, she looked at me and said, "Okay, now the next time you go to the gym and get on the treadmill, I want you to strap a ton of chains to your body, and then let's see how you do."

Wise words. (You can read that blog post here).

Here's the catch, like the stuff I was carrying across the field that day, there are some things you're just going to have to carry in life. It's going to get heavy and hard, and you're just going to have to push through, even if you have to stop and rest every now and then to get there. (Or do what I did and go even faster)

But that's all stuff I KNEW I was carrying. This invisible baggage we carry with us has often been handed to us through station or circumstance, and we've carried it so long we don't know it's baggage. Life feels heavy and we trudge through, weighted down, but we can't figure out why or by what. All we know is that it hurts and burns, and we want to go on, but we're Just. So. Tired.

And sometimes, we've identified exactly what needs to be put down, tossed aside, or thrown away, but it just doesn't seem possible. The pain has become part of us. To cast it aside now would be to cast part of ourselves aside, leaving a piece of us behind.

And then again, some of us lay it down, just to pick it back up again. We cast off the chains, claiming fullness and freedom, but pick them right back up again, through coping or custom.

In my life, I can identify the latter two; the former will come with time. Praise God, He accepts us where we are, but won't leave us where He found us. 

My weights are often my "shoulds" (the expectations I or others have put on me that have no business being there), my "ams" (harmful and negative parts of my identity I've long adopted as who I am, but that have no place in my future), and my "am nots" (limits I've placed on myself our of fear and insecurity that don't belong there).

I have been walking with these things for as long as I can remember, letting them slow me down or just gritting my teeth and bearing the pain. But the longer I walk, the heavier they get, and there comes a time when you have to choose: fetters or future, destined or defeated.

The answer is so clear.

Friend, whatever is holding you back and weighing you down, keeping you from the purpose God has for you, I pray you would LAY IT DOWN. Don't wait until tomorrow or Monday or "things get better." Seek God's face and let it go.

Fighting "Feel Good" Faith

I'm looking at my closet right now: dresses shoved on one side, shirts and jackets on the other, some hangers dangling and askew. But mostly, I was looking at the big, blank stretch of wall just above it.

A while back, I had the idea to make a LARGE sign for that spot that says, "She is clothed in strength and dignity." You know...so when I'm standing in front of my closet in my underwear crying because I have nothing to wear, I'll remember the important things to be clothed in.

At least that's the idea. I may still cry.

However, it also made me think of something else: am I really? Am I really clothed in strength and dignity?

I know there are a lot of y'all ready to hop to my defense, but hear me out on this. It might be my new soapbox.

In his letters in the Bible, Paul wrote often to warn his readers about the dangers of inaccurate theology. He wanted them to know how to sniff out a fake. At the time, much of this was centered around circumcision and "the law." These days, we call it legalism.

However, in our modern-day churches, though some are RIFE with legalism, I believe one issue has begun to outpace it. Indeed, this may be even more dangerous: Feel Good Faith.

I see it everywhere I look these days. I hear:

"God says I am enough."
"God says I am perfect just the way I am."
"God says I am strong.
"God says I can accomplish anything."

The problem with those statements? They are false. God doesn't say those things. As a matter of fact, those things are completely counter to the gospel of Jesus Christ because if we were enough, perfect just the way we are, etc. we would not have needed salvation.

But we did. We do.

In every situation in the Bible, if someone needed strength or courage, God did not say, "Go get 'em, Tiger. I know you can do it." He said, "Stand back, son, and watch how I do this THROUGH you."

Have I not commanded you?

Be strong and courageous.

Do not be afraid,

do not be discouraged,

for the Lord your God will be

with you wherever you go.

Joshua 1:9 (NIV)

He didn't say, "You got this!" He said, "Trust me; I got this." The distinction is subtle but vital.

Joseph did not save millions from famine. God saved millions through Joseph.
Moses did not part the Red Sea. God parted the sea through Moses.
David did not slay Goliath. God slayed Goliath through David.

In these cases, and all the others in the Bible, it isn't the individuals ability that comes to the rescue, it's their faith in the God who saves.

Even the name Jesus means, "God is salvation."

"But what's the harm?" you might ask? "Why is it an issue if people want to say that? We know what they mean, and it makes them feel good. It empowers them!"

Unfortunately, it may feel good, but it's building your house on the sand. Time and again, I see people who say these things fall prey to their own philosophies. Life is hard. Spiritual attack is hard.

I keep watching as the people espousing these philosophies come to remarkably difficult junctures in their lives, and instead of leaning on the ONE who can give them the strength and courage they need to follow God into the dark places, leaning and depending upon Him, they lean heavily on their own understanding, thinking God would never want them to be unhappy or uncomfortable.

They make decisions, not based on scripture, but on what feels good because, after all, that's what gets them through. They trade the worship of God for worship of themselves, and their homes and lives fall like a house of cards. Only houses built on the rock can withstand the wind and waves.

It's sad and tragic and, honestly, just really bad theology.

So, when I look at my blank wall, thinking about the "clothed in strength and dignity" sign, I wonder if I actually am. The answer? If I have chosen to be.

When you read about the Proverbs 31 wife (which is who the quote refers to), there's a pretty formidable woman there. But why? Why is she so amazing? Because she walks through each day with God by her side.

• She works hard because she works to please the Lord.
• She makes good decisions because she trusts the wisdom of God.
• She gives unselfishly because she mirrors the God who gives.
• She is clothed in strength and dignity with no fear of the future because she knows whose hands its in...and it isn't hers.

Charm is deceptive and beauty is fleeting,

but a woman who fears the Lord will be praised.

Proverbs 31: 30

To be frank, I don't know if that's who I am every day...probably not if I'm crying about not having any clothes in front of a loaded closet. I'm super glad I don't have to earn my salvation because if I did, I'd probably have a one-way ticket to Hell.

But I know it's who I aspire to be. It's who, thanks to the Holy Spirit, I look more like as time goes on. But I also know it's not me on my own.

I know I'm really excited to make the sign, not because of who I am, but of who God is, and He is calling me to be a woman fully dependent upon Him, every moment of every day. That's a theology I'm willing to stand on. 

Breaking Free

*sigh* I really don't know what to say here, except some seasons just beat you up.

There's a scene toward the beginning of Moana where she tries to take a boat out into the water for the first time. She's doing okay until a wave capsizes her and shoves her under. With her ankle stuck fast in coral, wave after wave plows into her until, finally, she grabs a rock, smashes the coral, and breaks free.

That's this season for me. In one particular area of my life, it feels like I keep climbing back into the boat, and time and again, waves hurl me into the sea. I've been caught by the coral so often that my entire being is bloodied and bruised, and my water-logged lungs ache for air.

And yet, I climb back on the boat. That's all that can be done, really. Sometimes, there's just no going back to the shore.

I thought about this as I jogged yesterday. I prayed and thought...and prayed some more.

Yesterday was a interesting day for me. The first couple weeks of the Couch to 5K program you only run for 60-90 seconds at a time. But yesterday was supposed to be the first day of week 3, which contains a couple 3 minutes runs.

I almost skipped it and when back to the week before. No shame in that right? A jog is a jog.

But something about it felt like cheating, and let's be honest, you never know what you can do until you try. Thus, week three, day one commenced.

The first 3 minute block was LONG. I didn't know 3 minutes could last that long. I got through, though, by praying and refusing to look at how long I'd gone.

But then the second 3 minute block came. This time, it was it was hard. MUCH HARDER. The only thing that got me through that time was the scene in the movie "Facing the Giants," when the coach has the kid crawl from one end of the field to the other blindfolded with another kid on his back. He just keeps saying, "You promised to give it your best! I know it hurts! But you've got more in you!" (Or something like that)

I felt like God was saying that: "With my help, you can do this. I know it hurts, but you have My strength in you. Give it all you've got. I'm here." 

And I got through. I mean...it hurt some, and I'm not entirely sure I was breathing by the end, but it got done. Then, I was home free! All the jogs were done, and I was down to a 3 minute walk, followed by a 5 minute cool down. 

However, once I recovered my breath, I felt God telling me He wanted me to jog again. He and I then had a little chat.

"I don't want to run anymore, though, God. I've done what I said I would do!"

But he whispered, "But with Me, you can do so much more than you can even ask or imagine. Run again."

"Fine," I grumbled. "I'll run from this car to that one down there, but that's it."

The second I started to run, the app told me I had a minute left of my workout before the cool down started...and as soon as I passed the second car, the app told my my workout was complete.

I cried tears of joy then...and even now. I hear you, God: with You, all things are possible. Sometimes you calm the storm, and sometimes, you just give us the strength to get through it. I know even when I feel like I can't go on, in you, there's hope.

But those who trust in the Lord will find new strength.

They will soar high on wings like eagles.

They will run and not grow weary.

They will walk and not faint.

Isaiah 40:31

I wish I could say my hard season was over. In fact, even now I feel the waves crashing over me as I grope the seabed for something to break myself free. 

However, God has reminded me that no matter how long this lasts - a month, two months, or ten years - He is always with me, and one day, I'll break free from the waves that threaten to tear me to pieces. But to do that, I just have to keep getting back in the boat.

Running Behind

"There he goes," I sighed to myself, as my husband's figure moved further and further away. "The distance between us just continues to grow."

No, Josiah isn't leaving, and I'm not writing a soap opera. I just can't keep up with him when we run.

I'm training for this 5K (although we have yet to actually choose one), and on Josiah's last day off, I asked him if he would run with me. The man hates cardio, but he loves me a lot, so he agreed.

It's been a while since we worked out together, however, and I forgot how much faster he is. At 6'5", he's a foot and a couple inches taller than I am, and I'm convinced at least 75% of the difference is in the length of our legs. 

Normally, I look like a Chihuahua, trying to keep up with a Great Dane, but because he was being really considerate, in this case, he looked more like a kangaroo - just bobbing up and down next to me. Of course, I told him to go ahead and run. We'd come back together during the walking stretches, but I had to let him actually stretch his legs.

As the space grew between us, for a brief minute, I started to get sad and put myself down. "He never does cardio, and he's legit kicking my butt. Why do I bother?"

Then, the Holy Spirit checked me. He said, "Run your race." 

Here's the thing, ya'll, God did not make me a 6'5" man with the legs of Michaelangelo's "David." He made me a 5'3" mother of seven with a propensity toward weight gain. I was not made to run as fast as Josiah. I was not made to run faster than most people.

But I have a race to run that's all my own.

We need people with us on our journeys toward our goals, but while we're traveling together, never forget for one second that we each have our own races to run - races God designed us for, and paying too much attention to where someone else is in their race compared to you will only distract you from running yours well.

So, I let Josiah run. I smiled when he turned around to check in on me, cheered him on from behind, and if I'm honest, allowed myself to enjoy the view. Then, when we walked, I'd catch up. In the end, our workouts looked different, but we finished together and our bodies, minds, and spirits were the better for it.

I doesn't matter who's ahead on the journey; it just matters that you're traveling with people you love. 

Slow Down and Finish Well

Recently, a friend of mine told me she wanted to run a 5K, and she asked me to hold her accountable. I'm all about a bandwagon, so I said, "Hey! Better than that, we'll do it together."

Just to let ya'll know, I have been avoiding anything that even looks like running for quite some time. I tell myself it's because it's too much pressure on my joints, but really it's just because I'm scared of the massive jiggle wave that would ensue...and that I might fall on my face. 

Look, I'm not trying to be "body negative" or anything, but if you've ever actually TRIED to run when you're overweight, you know what I mean. You have body parts that are on a full 5 second delay.

But I decided to download the Couch to 5K app, don my worn out compression tank, and get my butt out there anyway.

The first day I planned to run, I was TERRIFIED. What if I can't do it, I thought? What if I get out there and look ridiculous and can't even finish half of the first day? What if the whole neighborhood is laughing at me? What if I pass out?

Those first few running steps felt like chains falling off. 

I can do this, I thought. I'm not going to die! 

However, right around the halfway mark in the program, ish got real. I started to have to hardcore talk/pray myself through each 60 second run.

Dear God, it's only 60 seconds. Please help me not pass out. Please help me not to vomit. Please help me not to pass out in my own vomit. 

And then I also had to pray myself through my walks. "Please, God, help me catch my breath. My breath feels so far away."

I had to cut a couple of the running segments a few seconds short, and the final run by about half, but I made it through the 30 minute workout without dying, puking, or peeing myself so I thought it was a pretty strong win.

When I tried to roll over the next morning, my whole body rebelled. I thought I was just going to have to parent from bed all day.

Nevertheless, I found the strength to make it out of bed, and anyone who has ever worked out knows you HAVE to move when you're sore. The best way to treat soreness is to MOVE.

So, even though I was so sore I felt like I couldn't put one foot in front of the other, once again, my feet hit the pavement. I was still really worried about falling on my face, though.

When the running segment came, I was able to do it, but I was sluggish. I felt like my whole body was a full second behind my brain's commands.

But something very interesting happened as a result of my body's sluggishness: I was able to actually keep up.

Instead of huffing, puffing, and panting, I was able to focus on breathing through my runs. Instead of frantically trying to catch my breath in between, I was able to recover well and enjoy the view. Instead of praying to God he'd help me not vomit and die, I was able to pray and thank Him for helping me through - even at the end of my workout, on the long stretch before my house where there's no shade, and the heat of the sun beats down on me.

I ended the run on the second day feeling amazing, and I didn't cut ANY segments short. I didn't just finish, I finished well - and all because I had the courage to get back out there and take it slow.

Sometimes, we just want to get there, so we try to go as fast as possible. But that's just not sustainable. We run out of steam, we take shortcuts, and we finish, but it leaves us feeling depleted and sick.

Today, choose to go slow. Fully embrace each moment. Focus on breathing and praying. Run slowly and well, then make sure to take time to recover in between. You won't need to take the shortcuts, and at the end, you'll feel energized instead of depleted.

Friends, my prayer for you today is that you would finish the race set before you, not just falling across the finish line, but finishing your race well. 

Talk to you all later. I've gotta run. 

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.