“Pam, have you been sick? You look awful.” My sick head smiled at the remarks of some family members and close friends who voiced their concerns about my too thin body. When they gasped at my appearance, I somehow felt successful, as if I had reached some unspeakable ideal.
One day I reluctantly asked my sponsor how much she thought I should weigh. She told me about her guidelines: “In order to stop the weight games, I follow the well-known rule of thumb—l00 lbs. for the first five feet; add 5 pounds for each inch after that.” We calculated my targeted goal. I am five foot seven inches tall. Therefore, my goal weight is l35 lbs. Allowing a ten-pound range, I could weigh anywhere between l25 lbs. and l35 lbs. My doctor agreed with this calculation, but I was doubtful. (I thought 118 lbs. sounded more appealing…or maybe 110 lbs.?)*
My sponsor told me to weigh-in on the first day of each month. She said, “Focus your attention on recovery, not on the numbers you see on the scale.” She added, “As you follow your food plan each new day, trust that you will maintain a thin body. Practice the slogan, ‘Let go and let God.’”
Fear of falling back into my old habits (overeating or not eating enough) kept me chained tightly to my witness of success, the number on the scale. That metal monster sat on my bathroom floor, and I did not ignore it. I reported my weight once a month, but I weighed myself more often—sometimes once a week, sometimes on the first and the fifteen of the month, sometimes everyday. Bottom line: the scale ruled me. It affected my attitude about myself; when I was l28 lbs. or less, I felt successful and happy. Anything above l28 lbs. was not okay. Even though my food plan had not changed, I felt like a “bad girl.” My disposition often changed in the blink of an eye—happy and optimistic to gloom and doom. Being an extremist, I imagined myself fat overnight if I didn’t do something different immediately. In time, my program friends (and my experience) taught me that my weight would fluctuate. It is natural, normal and okay.
Years into program, an eating disorder specialist told me that she threw her scale away. I looked at her in awe and said, “I could never do that.” She smiled and asked, “Are you trusting God or are you controlling your weight?” I explained that it is the action of my hand that feeds me. She said, “I know if I start eating more than my body needs that the fit of my clothes will tell me to eat less food.”
I have not thrown my scale away, but I have let the “boogie man” sit there, unnoticed, for months at a time. Occasionally I do check in—just to see—and it feels like the right thing for me to do at this stage in my life, because I know the tricks I played in the past. I can be conniving: I avoid weighing in so I can get thinner. (If I see that I weigh less than 125 lbs., I’ll have to add food.) Or I ignore the scale when my clothes are feeling snug, because I know I should eliminate some food from my plan. (If I see that I am over 135 lbs., then I’ll have to cut something out…I don’t want to do that.) My conclusion: if I am not willing to change anything, it is fruitless to weigh myself. It serves only as a means to beat myself up.
*Through the years, I have seen that this “rule of thumb” does not work for everyone. I believe that it is the physician’s responsibility to monitor a person’s health, which includes weight loss methods, progress and goals.
For a while I enjoyed parading around in the latest fashions. I wore cute little ditties bought “off the rack” in popular sizes, and I soaked in all the compliments. I felt like a movie star. Well-intentioned family and friends encouraged me to let down my guard, especially on the holidays. They said, “A little treat won’t hurt you.” Or “Now that you’re thin, you certainly don’t need to diet anymore.” They didn’t understand the disease of food addiction. It was okay. It was hard for me to accept the fact that I was done losing weight. I had a fat head—no matter how thin I got, I envisioned myself heavy. Even today, when I catch a glimpse of my reflection in a mirror or in a storefront window, I am surprised that the woman looking back at me is thin.
Still thinking thinner would be better, my new venture (obsession) became the act of physical fitness. It became my new preoccupation: where, when and how to get physically fit. I need to tell you that it was not for medical reasons, but for sheer vanity. My thin body was pear shaped or people might say that I was “bottom heavy,” and my legs were flabby. I felt that these deficits could be fixed with the right exercises. Therefore, I joined health clubs, bought exercise equipment and dreamed of the day when I would have the perfect body.
One day I sought help with my priorities, and God blessed me with an insight. I heard, “Stop working on your body; beauty is only skin deep.” I knew it was wise to incorporate exercise in my life, but it was also wise to spend time with God and I wanted to help other people in the program. I needed to make some choices. After some serious consideration, I said, “Okay, Lord. What should I do?”
Walking satisfied my physical needs, and it enhanced my spirit. Monday through Friday, I take a two-mile walk early in the morning, right after my prayer and meditation time with God. When I walk, I feel refreshed and alive. It is the best of both worlds—the physical and spiritual spheres meet on the road to a better life.
When I finally succumbed to the idea that thinner is not better, I embarked on the most difficult phase of recovery—maintenance. It was time to share my story. “I am not only on a diet with an exercise regime. I am in a program to learn how to live.”
Physical exercise has some value, but spiritual exercise is much more important, for it promises a reward in both this life and the next. (l Timothy 4:8, New Living Translation)
“Food secrets? Do I have any food secrets?” My sponsor’s inquiry startled me. Oh no, I’m in big trouble. Help me, Lord. I was caught with my hand in the cookie jar, so to speak. My conniving, defiant nature was exposed. I grabbed the dictionary, hoping for a way out. I read that a secret is something hidden or concealed. An implied truth is a secret. It is dishonest and establishes guilt by omission.
When I was overly anxious, I gave myself permission to overeat abstinent food. I would often make an excuse to eat at a wonderful restaurant. Buffets served me well. If I couldn’t get my husband to take me out to dinner, I would opt for plan two. I slyly committed my food. (I wanted to overeat.) I would say, “I’m barbecuing steak tonight with baked potatoes, l cup of broccoli, 2 cups of salad, 1 T. salad dressing and a fruit.” (I had added a fruit for dinner when I reached my goal weight.)
In lieu of my reasonable weighed and measured portions, I gnawed the meat off a delicious T-bone steak, which weighed at least a pound, probably more. My potato was gigantic; I would travel from market to market to find the biggest, most beautiful potato in town. And, my piece of fruit was huge. After I ate one of these meals, I would say to myself, “That was not a great idea, but I was not that “bad.” I only had ONE steak, ONE potato and ONE piece of fruit. My vegetables and salad were measured. If I were overeating, it would have been a lot worse. At least the meal ended.”
I also played with other protein choices—“I’m cooking a Cornish hen for dinner tonight…and I’ll have xyz.” I intentionally refrained from committing my portion size once again. I ate the whole hen (probably l0-12 oz.), and I sucked every edible ounce of meat off those bones (including skin, fat and cartilage, no less). Only a pile of twigs (the empty bones) remained. It was a sad, unreasonable choice. I was guilty once again.
Another consistent justification/rationalization: I remember measuring my food, and even though the scale said, “6.2 oz.” instead of “6.0” or “4.3 oz.” instead of “4.0,” I decided that it was close enough, and I ate the whole portion. Nutritionally, it didn’t make much of a difference, but it was still not okay. This is a program of honesty.
All these incidents (and more) were certainly occasions when I overate. Denial is not just a river in Egypt. It’s the little exceptions (secrets) that pile up to cause resentments, which grow and eventually could become a reason to binge.
I had food secrets—many food secrets. My journal held the truth and God knew. Lord, help me. I want to be well. My food plan is enough. I got honest, scrupulously honest, and I confessed every indiscretion. Finally I understood how to be abstinent. I was honest, open and willing—even restaurants, buffets and special celebrations were discussed in detail. My sponsor and I designed a plan each day, and I did what I planned. For the first time I understood freedom. I was happy to be in recovery. It was simple, satisfying and without guilt.
The program of action, though entirely sensible, was pretty drastic. It meant I would have to throw several lifelong conceptions out of the window. That was not easy. But the moment I made up my mind to go through with the process, I had the curious feeling that my alcoholic [addictive] condition was relieved, as in fact it proved to be. (Alcoholics Anonymous, Third Edition, page 42)
New Light
The sun was shining, the birds were singing, and I was ready for a brand new day. I tied my sneakers, strapped my radio to my belt and headed outside for my morning walk. I moved the dial of the radio hoping to find something to ponder during my half-hour jaunt. News, weather, sports, rap, loud music—Isn’t there anything interesting out there in the world? I continued my search and stopped in my tracks when I heard a woman’s raspy voice boldly proclaim, “Jesus can heal the brokenhearted… the lame walk; the blind see…” It was Joyce Meyer, a powerful television and radio minister. Immediately, she touched the core of my being with her inspiring testimony. I heard about Jesus; through the Word of God, her life had changed.
As soon as I walked into the house, I grabbed my Bible—the one I bought so many years ago when I invited Jesus into my heart—and searched for the Scripture that Joyce had mentioned in her broadcast. It was Isaiah 61. (Joyce preached from The Amplified Bible. My King James Version was written in words that were harder for me to understand, but the message was clear.) For easier interpretation, this reference comes from the New Living Translation:
The Spirit of the Sovereign Lord is upon me, because the Lord has appointed me to bring good news to the poor. He has sent me to comfort the brokenhearted and to announce that captives will be released and prisoners will be freed. He has sent me to tell those who mourn that the time of the Lord’s favor has come… he will give beauty for ashes, joy instead of mourning, praise instead of despair…
They will rebuild the ancient ruins, repairing cities long ago destroyed. They will revive them, though they have been empty for many generations… Instead of shame and dishonor, you will inherit a double portion of prosperity and everlasting joy. (Isaiah 61:1-7, New Living Translation)
My mind’s eye saw that God had “released” me (and other people who were once actively addicted to food—held “captive” to the disease). I saw that joy does come as we rebuild our lives, and we will be blessed, two-fold (more than we ever imagined), if we follow the teaching of Jesus.
Immediately I knew that God had bigger plans for my life. At this point in my recovery, I was relatively happy—as good as it gets, or so I thought at the time. I was abstinent and getting better physically and emotionally through the help of the Twelve Steps. Spiritually, I was certainly dependent on God, but new light dawned this day. It was another spiritual awakening of sorts: The Big Book had been my “Bible;” it had brought me to this stage of my recovery, but God wanted more for me.
Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness, for they will be filled. (Matthew 5:6, New International Version)
I became a dedicated fan of Joyce Meyer overnight. I was a baby in the Lord, but my understanding and application of Biblical principles grew steadily as I absorbed the teaching of Life in the Word each new day.
Open my eyes to see wonderful things in your Word. I am but a pilgrim here on earth: how I need a map—and your commands are my chart and guide. I long for your instructions more than I can tell. (Psalm 119:18-20, The Living Bible)
Higher Ground
When I was a child, I talked like a child, I thought like a child, I reasoned like a child. When I became a man, I put childish ways behind me. (l Corinthians 13:11, New International Version)
As children we set out to explore new territory. Unknowingly we engage in dangerous activities—climbing on furniture, running when we should walk, hiding in public places and the like. We test the waters discovering the boundaries of our safety zones. When a caring adult witnesses a potentially harmful situation, he automatically warns children of hazards and declares, “Danger—chairs are for sitting.” Or “We walk in the house.” If a child falls, he learns that the adult was trying to protect him; it hurts when you fall. In time, children grow into self-nurturing, independent adults.
A sponsor is like the good parent or a personal trainer—someone who suggests certain guidelines, methods and philosophies to induce positive lifestyle changes. In the program, whining occurs from time to time. Mistakes are inevitable. People need appropriate redirection. It is all part of the process.
My sponsor’s commitment to abstinence was impressive—she went to any length to stay abstinent. She was sure-footed in her understanding of the 12-step program. I needed a firm hand, although I acted like a baby when she suggested I get down off “that dangerous chair.” Beyond my immaturity, we had one major difference in opinion; she believed in a higher power, the God of her understanding—whatever that was. It appeared to be the group or the program in general. I had a more defined God—the God of the Bible. Frustration and confusion arose periodically. God would tell me one thing, and she would tell me another. She said, “You’re a baby. After a year, you can make your own decisions.”
For months, I fought the temptation to say, “I’m outta here.” Feeling suffocated by her control, I often wondered if she was the right sponsor for me. Each time I got on my knees to pray about it, I heard, “Be patient. Your sponsor can teach you discipline and self-control.”
Fools think they need no advice, but the wise listen to others. (Proverbs l2:15, New Living Translation)
When I succumbed to her teaching technique and acknowledged that I had changed by her persistent efforts, I thanked her. Then one day God said, “Now you can fly.” I knew in my heart that it was time to depend on Him.
I will instruct you and teach you in the way you should go; I will counsel you and watch over you” [says the Lord.] (Psalm 32:8, New International Version)
My disciplines were in place, I had self-control, and I knew that abstinence was the most important thing without exception. It was not an option to overeat no matter what was happening in my circumstances or how I felt. I was ready to grow up.
One exceptionally bright and sunny day in December, I dialed the number of my sponsor for the last time as her underling. Graciously, with respect and love, I shared what the Lord had said to me. Whether she understood it or not, it didn’t matter. I was free to soar for Him now. It was almost angelic—like an out-of-body experience. My feet barely touching the ground, I said to the Lord, “Here I am. I am ready to do Your will.”
But those who hope in the Lord will renew their strength. They will soar on wings like eagles; they will run and not grow weary, they will walk and not be faint. (Isaiah 40:31, New International Version)
The 12-step program taught me that I was not an island—accountability is crucial to ongoing recovery. Another long-term abstinent member of the program volunteered to listen to my food each day. Enthusiastically, she said, “We can help each other.” It was a different connection. My new sponsor believed in Jesus. It was easy to verbalize our opinions in kind and loving suggestions, possibilities or helpful hints. We bounced ideas back and forth and depended on God as the ultimate authority. We were sisters in the Lord, prayer partners and best friends.
Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It is not rude, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres. Love never fails…. (1 Corinthians 13:4-8, New International Version)
Sweet Tooth
My co-sponsor and I were equal partners with the same goals—physical, emotional and spiritual health. We agreed that honesty, accountability and listening to God’s instructions were pivotal to our success.
Abstinence was our first topic of conversation. She had gotten her food plan from a treatment center years before our encounter. Up to this point, I was eating the standard food plan—three meals a day with nothing in between, except black coffee, tea or water. We compared the two plans—my protein portions at lunch and dinner were 4 oz. (or ½ cup). She had 3 oz. (or l/3 cup), and at lunch she had a grain instead of a fruit. I groaned for a minute until she said, “I eat a snack before bed.” I smiled. It was breakfast again—another oatmeal, yogurt and fruit. She said, “It is a metabolic adjustment.” That sounded inviting to me and nutritionally well-balanced.
She continued, “I measure my food on a digital scale. My plastic cups were warped from my stuffing every last morsel into them.” I could relate to that. I would squish down the food; when I took my hand off the top, the food would bounce back. It was my food, but I occasionally wondered if it was really honest. Did other people push the limits like me? I bought a digital scale and started my new food plan the next day.
Breakfast: l oz. (measured dry) oatmeal or oat bran, 8 oz. plain yogurt and a fruit (Note: the cereal was cooked in ¾ cup of water.)
Lunch: 3 oz. protein, 6 oz. cooked vegetables, 8 oz. salad, l tablespoon salad dressing and one grain—one potato or 4 oz. rice or two plain rice cakes
Dinner: lunch again
Metabolic: breakfast again
As we exchanged our bottom lines of abstinence, she said, “I don’t eat sugar, flour or caffeine.” I took a deep breath and groaned, “No coffee?” She told me that caffeine is another addictive drug. We discussed it rationally and concluded that we could have different bottom lines. I said, “If God leads me to stop drinking coffee, then I will stop drinking it.”
She confessed that she ate some artificially sweetened foods. My ears perked up and in a matter of minutes, I headed for the door. If it worked for her, it could work for me. I raced the idea of adding artificially sweetened foods by God (briefly), but I don’t remember stopping long enough to hear his response. I ran to the grocery store and bought all those yummy, artificially sweetened nonfat yogurts that I loved and diet soda by the gallons. Yahoo! I was happy—four meals a day, my caffeine hits and now artificially sweetened options. Life was sweet.
Time passed quickly. It seemed like days and I was celebrating five years of abstinence. It was a miracle—purely a gift from God. Participating in many in-depth studies of the Twelve Steps, I shared my growing faith. Jesus continued to heal my broken heart, mind and body. At some meetings, people frowned at my enthusiasm for Jesus. Feeling discouraged and persecuted, I got thirsty for more…more teaching…more like-minded people in my life. Lord, help me to know and do Your will. Instinctively, I started praying for a church home.
This was not the first time that I had investigated the possibilities; the boys and I had visited different churches from time to time through the years, but we never found a place that kept our attention for very long. In my opinion, most church services were boring. True or false, it had been my experience that services with rote prayers and rituals from pre-written manuscripts were without much thought or feeling. I wanted and needed more—whatever that was. I didn’t know because I had never found “it.”
In a matter of weeks, God answered my prayer. Dan was fifteen; he had a friend whose family actively attended a non-denominational Christ-centered church in a nearby town. One day Dan was invited to attend. I think it was a bribe of some sort; his friend appeared a tad rebellious, but was obliged to go to church with his parents and a younger brother. He may have said, “Do you want to come to church with us? We can do something fun after the service.” Apprehensively Dan asked, “What do you think, Mom, should I go?” I thought it was a great idea. Dan went and I tagged along.
It was a big church. I felt lost amongst the people, but I heard the message of hope loud and clear. “Jesus is alive” rang from beam to beam. The church was a trek from our home, but I continued to attend regular services...until one treacherous day—midwinter—the snow-covered streets were almost impassable. Trying to maneuver on the slick roads, I felt God say, “I know you love me. It is dangerous driving today. It is okay to go to church in the town where you live. I will be there, too.”
…where two or three come together in my name, there I am with them. (Matthew 18:20, New International Version)
I looked up towards the sky as if God were sitting on a cloud, and asked, “Where should I go?” The boys and I had already investigated most of the local churches—the Catholic, the Congregational, the Episcopal—then I remembered “the little church on the hill.” I drove into the parking lot of Faith Baptist Church. I was “home” the minute I walked into the sanctuary.
It was a quaint little church with a handful of people at the time. The gospel was presented through nontraditional services, drama and special music. The praise team led the room full of people rejoicing in songs and thanksgiving to the Lord. It was odd to me at first—guitars and drums, people clapping and having fun in church. In the blink of an eye, I joined the many who easily expressed their love for the Lord. I felt united in spirit and in truth. My needs were met. I was welcomed and loved. Home at last, home at last. Thank God, I’m home at last. My childlike faith grew rapidly as I became involved in Bible studies and various small group ministries.
My excitement overflowed into my home life. In a matter of a few short weeks, my boys were dropping in at various church functions to see for themselves what I was experiencing. Gradually God called them. (I had waited and continued to pray for them each step along the way.) Eventually they became active members of the church. Praise the Lord. My husband, on the other hand, came occasionally and enjoyed the services and some of the outreach events. As of this writing, he still has not been “called” to join us on a regular basis. I wait in continual prayer.
Make every effort to add to your faith goodness; and to goodness, knowledge; and to knowledge, self-control; and to self-control, perseverance; and to perseverance, godliness; and to godliness, brotherly kindness; and to brotherly kindness, love. For if you possess these qualities in increasing measure, they will keep you from being ineffective and unproductive in your knowledge of our Lord Jesus Christ. (2 Peter l:5-8, New International Version)
The church’s basic philosophy is designed around Willow Creek Community Church, South Barrington, Illinois. People are taught Biblical principles—living well, loving deeply and serving the Lord according to their passions and abilities. If there is a need in the church, it is essential that the person filling the position had been called by God to do the job. Teachers are people who are called by God to teach—not just a warm body talking to the pupils. Same with everything—hostesses are people with the gift of hospitality, deacons have the gift of mercy, pastors have the gift of evangelism and the like.
We have different gifts, according to the grace given us. If a man’s gift is prophesying, let him use it in proportion to his faith. If it is serving, let him serve; if it is teaching, let him teach; if it is encouraging, let him encourage; if it is contributing to the needs of others, let him give generously; if it is leadership, let him govern diligently; if it is showing mercy, let him do it cheerfully. (Romans l2:6-8, New International Version)
The mission of my church is to edify the body of believers and glorify God. With that in mind, Pastor Doug led a teaching seminar called Networking. He hoped to fit people into their passions, not just at church, but in every phase of life. Enthusiastically I grabbed the opportunity to find my place, my purpose.
Evaluating my heartfelt desires, as well as my unique talents and abilities, brought me to the conclusion that I was naturally endowed with faith, mercy, teaching and shepherding—leading people to solutions.
At home and in my career as a Christian daycare provider, I was “in my passion.” I taught children at an early age how to trust and believe in God’s awesome ability and unfailing love. My other passion was equally endearing. I longed to touch the hearts of people with addictions. I wanted to teach them about Jesus, bridging the gap between Twelve-Step programs and Christianity. How could I teach other people with addictions about Jesus? Praying diligently, I sought a solution. My answer came when I spotted The Twelve Steps for Christians by RPI at a local bookstore.
The Twelve Steps for Christians, Revised Edition is a powerful resource for merging the practical wisdom of the Twelve Steps with the spiritual truths of the Bible. This combination of recovery and spirituality offers Christians an effective way to work a traditional Twelve-Step program and name Jesus Christ as their Higher Power. (Friends in Recovery, The Twelve Steps for Christians, RPI Publishing, back cover)
Shortly thereafter, The Twelve Steps for Christians Support Group was birthed at Faith Baptist Church in Auburn, MA. It has run nonstop since the year l996. I thank the Lord each time I see another soul touched by the light of God’s amazing grace. God began a good work in me, and He will be faithful to complete it…(See Philippians 1:6.)
It was my first introduction to The Serenity Prayer in its entirety:
God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, the courage to change the things I can, and the wisdom to know the difference. Living one day at a time, enjoying one moment at a time, accepting hardship as a pathway to peace; taking, as Jesus did, this sinful world as it is, not as I would have it; trusting that You will make all things right if I surrender to your will; so that I may be reasonably happy in this life and supremely happy with You forever in the next. Amen (by Reinhold Niebuhr)
Good to the Last Drop
The Twelve Steps for Christians Support Group addressed life’s issues. There were people from all walks of life—food addicts, alcoholics, co-dependents, plus adult children of alcoholics, people working on fears, depression or whatever separated them from God. It was fruitful, and we multiplied.
One summer day, I was at a tag sale and I happened to pick up an interesting book—The All New Free to be Thin by Neva Coyle and Marie Chapian. It was a Biblically-based study for people with food issues. Stimulated by new insights, I gathered the troops, so to speak, and led a teaching for thirteen weeks as outlined in the Lifestyle Plan—a personal journal written to accompany the textbook. Members from the church and fellow food addicts joined me in this venture. The food addicts ignored the food plan. It was a nutritionally-balanced diet for a normal eater. (The people from the church, who were looking for self-control and behavior modification, followed the food plan suggested.)
Many people were blessed with increased understanding. Personally I was convicted of my coffee and artificial sweetener addiction. They were my last “drugs,” my last obsessions. I came to realize that I held onto them in lieu of appearing a perfectionist or extremist. People already think my food plan is extreme—fanatically strict. Coffee and artificial sweeteners are normal foods for a dieter. I want to appear normal. God gently assured me that I was not “normal.” Lovingly I heard, “I have called you to higher ground.” He asked me to lay these things at His feet. I let go of what other people thought of me, and my food plan, and I listened.
I need to tell you a secret—I loved my coffee. It was my shot in the arm when I needed a boost. I drank it twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week, when I began my stretch of back-to-back abstinence in l988. Through the years, though, I heard people share that caffeine was a drug to be avoided. It created unclear thinking, and it was addicting. I chose to ignore those comments. Lord, I love my coffee, and I have already sacrificed so much. I can keep it; right, Lord? The answer was obvious.
Eventually I weaned down to three cups a day, then two, then one—one enormous cup. My husband often tells the story of my “soup bowl” of coffee. It was one cup. That was the best I could do for a very long time.
Decaffeinated coffee worked for a short span, but I soon played games to mask my denial. (I wanted my caffeine hit.) I would make it triple strength and let the first few splashes fall directly into my cup or I would order a large cup from the best coffee shops knowing that their decaffeinated coffee was more potent than others. When I started the Free to be Thin program, I was resigned to one cup of decaffeinated coffee a day. I held onto it with both hands, until I read Romans, Chapter 12.
And so, dear brother and sisters, I plead with you to give your bodies to God. Let them be a living and holy sacrifice—the kind he will accept. When you think of what he has done for you, is this too much to ask? Don’t copy the behavior and customs of this world, but let God transform you into a new person by changing the way you think. Then you will know what God wants you to do, and you will know how good and pleasing and perfect his will really is. (Romans l2:l-2, New Living Translation)
I offered everything to God—I surrendered my coffee and at the same time, I said “good-bye” to my artificially sweetened yogurts and my occasional diet sodas. I learned to love pure, natural water and plain yogurt. I considered them treasures and close to the heart of God’s natural state of creation.
Everything is permissible”—but not everything is beneficial… (l Corinthians l0:23, New International Version)
Making the decision to treat food as a prescription drug, I eat only foods that nourish my body. Never have I felt so free and so alive. Willingness is a gift from heaven.
So if the Son sets you free, you will indeed be free. (John 8:36, New Living Translation)
All battles belong to the Lord. In Biblical times, Jehoshaphat was at war. Overwhelmed with approaching armies, he cried out to God.
O our God, won’t you stop them? We are powerless against this mighty army that is about to attack us. We do not know what to do, but we are looking to you for help. (2 Chronicles 20:12, New Living Translation)
I can certainly relate. Lord, won’t you take this food addiction from me? I am powerless over all the temptations in the world. I cannot do this alone. Help me, Lord Jesus.
…This is what the Lord says: Do not be afraid! Don’t be discouraged by this mighty army, for the battle is not yours, but God’s. Tomorrow, march out against them…you will not even need to fight. Take your positions; then stand still and watch the Lord’s victory. He is with you, O people of Judah and Jerusalem. [and you people reading Full of Faith (or full of food?)]. Do not be afraid or discouraged. Go out there tomorrow, for the Lord is with you! (2 Chronicles 20:l5-17, New Living Translation)
I became a blessing and I was blessed. Through increased clarity, my mode of behavior stabilized. My family life improved dramatically, my friendships flourished and I prospered in my employment, both financially and emotionally. It was God’s amazing grace. He used my compassionate heart and willing spirit to talk and listen. Most often I lived in contented abstinence, enjoying a calm dependence on God’s ability, His goodness and his unfailing love, and I didn’t overeat, no matter what was happening in my circumstances or how I felt.
…I am still not all I should be, but I am focusing all my energies on this one thing: Forgetting the past and looking forward to what lies ahead. I strain to reach the end of the race and receive the prize for which God, through Christ Jesus, is calling us up to heaven. (Philippians 3:13-14, New Living Translation)
…I have learned to be content whatever the circumstances. I know what it is to be in need, and I know what it is to have plenty. I have learned the secret of being content in any and every situation, whether well fed or hungry, whether living in plenty or in want. I can do everything through him who gives me strength. (Philippians 4:11-13, New International Version)
The Christian looks through a problem, not at a problem: It was June 2001. I was happily rolling along, writing my book, telling people about Jesus and joyfully proclaiming freedom from food obsession and compulsive overeating. It had been over twelve years since my last binge. I had e-mail loops and many people looking to me for guidance. I was in my glory until…my annual physical exam…
My doctor had ordered a bone density test as a standard procedure for a woman my age—mid-forties. I razzed her, as if it was a waste of time, but she asked me to humor her and do it anyway. I was a model of good health, or so it seemed. After a minute’s hesitation—hashing over the inconvenience of going to another appointment—I said, “Sure, I can do that,” smugly believing the results would verify my admirable self-nurturing choices in life, plus it would supply impressive documentation for this book.
A week later, I got the shocking news, “You have osteoporosis…your bones are frail…you only have 67% bone mass in your hip and 71% in your spine.” It felt as if my heart fell to the floor with a splat. Angry with God, I yelled, “It’s not fair! How can I tell people about you, Lord, if I am not well? What in the world do you expect of me?” Angry with the medical profession, too, as I had done all the precautionary things to avoid osteoporosis—even hormone replacement therapy. It’s not fair. It’s not fair. It’s not fair. I stomped my feet and had my tantrum.
God’s timing is impeccable. A women’s ministry breakfast was the following day. I spilled my guts to close friends at church, desperate for wisdom and comfort in my dismay. A cancer survivor sympathized with my pain and invited me to a seminar featuring a Christian natural health care professional, scheduled for the following weekend. Earlier I had scoffed at the need for such extreme measures: “Health foods and supplements…organic vegetables and special foods…not for me; it’s hogwash.” My attitude held firm for years: “The medical profession and conventional nutritionists know best.” This time, hope held my hand. I jumped on her bandwagon and without hesitation, I exclaimed, “Yes, I would love to go.” We both laughed at my enthusiasm. It was a turnaround of extreme proportion.
After the seminar, I met with the specialist one-to-one. I knew that God had set me up to hear a serious message: dietary fats are necessary to distribute healthy nutrients throughout our bodies (balance and moderation in all things). Through the years, the media had encouraged reducing fats, which is wise. Extremists (like me) went beyond reasonable, with the idea that less is best, and many of us eliminated most dietary fat from our food plans. Experience is the best teacher. God got my attention with my new diagnosis of osteoporosis. I was ready to change.
The natural health care professional suggested the Zone Diet* by Dr. Barry Sears. He developed a simple dietary plan to balance protein, carbohydrate and fat. I went home that night and combined my previous knowledge with the Zone philosophy. In other words, I modified the plan to eliminate all sugar, flour and wheat, and I set some bottom-lines as minimum daily requirements for my plan of eating. (See It’s Personal.)
My hope and my prayer is that I might help others avoid the potential hazard that could result because of unreasonable dietary restrictions of healthy fats in their food plans, and I trust that God will heal my body if it is His will.
“For I know the plans I have for you,” says the Lord. “They are plans for good and not for disaster, to give you a future and a hope.” (Jeremiah 29:11, New Living Translation)
*See The Zone Diet for Food Addicts.
Don’t copy the behavior and customs of this world, but let God transform you into a new person by changing the way you think. Then you will know what God wants you to do, and you will know how good and pleasing and perfect his will really is. (Romans 12:2, New Living Translation)
I humbly share my experience, strength and hope in the Lord. Sharing the good news of His love and awesome ability keeps me excited. I have an attitude of gratitude. Whenever I get confounded, I ask Jesus what He would do, and I ask for His help in doing the right thing.
God is our refuge and strength, always ready to help in times of trouble. (Psalm 46:1, New Living Translation)
I wish I could tell you it is easy. I wish I could say I am successful 100% of the time. It is progress, not perfection. Hope for a better tomorrow sustains me—I am not where I want to be, but by the grace of God, I am not where I used to be. Striving toward the goal to be more like Jesus, I make an attempt each day to be all He wants and expects me to be. It is comforting to know that each new day offers another opportunity to “rise and shine.” His mercies are new every morning… (See Lamentations 3:23.)
When I am willing to listen to God, I am empowered. Letting go of my self-centered desires, I am content while waiting for God’s plans to be revealed. I am confident that God will supply all my needs. (See Philippians 4:19.) Scripture after Scripture imbedded in my heart soothes my brokenness, and I see glimpses of God’s kingdom—righteousness, peace and joy in believing. (See Romans 14:17.) Paul paints the picture of success—be happy. Do the right thing—be kind, loving and respectful to others. Stop worrying and pray with an attitude of gratitude.
Always be full of joy in the Lord. I say it again—rejoice! Let everyone see that you are considerate in all you do. Remember, the Lord is coming soon. Don’t worry about anything; instead, pray about everything. Tell God what you need, and thank him for all he has done. If you do this, you will experience God’s peace, which is far more wonderful than the human mind can understand. His peace will guard your hearts and minds as you live in Christ Jesus. (Philippians 4:4-7, New Living Translation)
A Heart for God
Let us fix our eyes on Jesus, the author and perfecter of our faith, who for the joy set before him endured the cross, scorning its shame, and sat down at the right hand of the throne of God. (Hebrews 12:2, New International Version)
God taps me on the shoulder. It’s 4:15 A.M. I hop out of bed. Groping for my eyeglasses, I am ready for a brand-new day. On my way to the bathroom, I begin my conversations with God. Lord, You are faithful. Your love keeps me safe and strong. Thank You for loving me through yesterday. Please, Lord, help to see and do Your will today.
I drop to my knees…Jesus, You are my all in all, the alpha and omega, the beginning and the end… I reflect upon the messages of His Word imbedded in the recesses of my mind. Seeking His will in my present circumstances, I am confident my answers will come. Thank You, Lord, for Your amazing grace—You have the capabilities of changing what seems impossible. You are Lord, Savior, Prince of Peace, Father God. I am blessed and empowered for another day. Because of Your grace, I can be a blessing.
Trust in the Lord and do good. Then you will live safely in the land and prosper. Take delight in the Lord, and he will give you your heart’s desires. Commit everything you do to the Lord. Trust him, and he will help you. (Psalm 37:3-5, New Living Translation)
As I conclude the writing of Full of Faith (or full of food?), I reminisce to that summer evening so long ago…when Jesus said, “Write a book. Tell the people about the gifts…” It was the end of July in the year 2000; I had just celebrated twelve years of abstinence. The Twelve Steps for Christians Support Group had recently wrapped up another step study. Like the Israelites on the way to the Promised Land, I had traveled around and around the same mountain trudging in the wilderness. I sought truth amongst the lies. As God would have it, I grew steadily each time I was willing to surrender more character defects to the Lord—control, caretaking, gossip, judgment, my messiah complex and the like. God carried me from glory to glory. My spirit gleamed with a passive, calm delight.
Carl and I were in a peaceful place—happy and secure. The boys were well, directed at school and at church. Life seemed better than ever. I felt as if the rough and rocky road of my past had been replaced. I was strolling through new cushioned grass—the kind you see in beautifully manicured parks and gardens. Awestruck with my new life in Jesus, I bowed my head in humble adoration, “How can I best serve you, Lord Jesus?”
Joe and I sat perched in front of our television set one night; it serves as the monitor for our Internet service. I pulled rank as the mother, as I often did, and retrieved my messages first. Joe didn’t mind. He sat in wait for his turn to go on-line half-watching, half-reading some book he had picked up at the Christian bookstore where he worked. One e-mail message hit me hard. I summoned Joe’s attention, “Joe, did you read that sad story?” He shook his head as if to say, “No, it was none of my business.” With mounting emotion, I told him that it was a food addict’s desperate plea for help. I mumbled under my breath, “I remember those days…poor child…Lord, help her…”
As I typed my response, Joe gained interest. Pouring out my heart and soul, I met the woman in her pain by rejoining some awful incidences in my past that looked ghastly at the time, but turned out to be pivotal pieces in God’s perfect plan. In words I cannot remember now, I envisioned God carrying me on the wings of angels. (My life is God’s handiwork—a perpetual work in progress.)
For we are God’s masterpiece. He has created us anew in Christ Jesus, so that we can do the good things he planned for us long ago. (Ephesians 2:l0, New Living Translation)
Joe looked stunned. He turned his glistening brown eyes in my direction and said admirably, “Mom, you should write a book.” I laughed out loud and dismissed the idea as absolutely absurd. Later, in my quiet time, I sat in contemplation. Maybe Joe is right… Is this Your will for me, Lord? I knew it to be true. How in God’s green earth am I going to do that? My mind started clacking like a typewriter out of control spitting out page after page of gobbledygook.
By mere coincidence (of course I am smiling because there are no accidents in God’s world) Joe had just bought a used laptop computer from a friend at work. Joe, in his usual supportive way, offered to help me learn how to use it.
I chuckled for a couple of days imagining my future. It was almost inconceivable to grasp the whole concept. If God is calling me to write a book, what else will He ask me to do down the road? Joe was my sounding board, “Maybe God will ask me to travel around the country as a testimony…maybe I’ll be on Oprah someday…maybe I’ll have a teaching tape ministry like Joyce Meyer.” Mind you, I hadn’t even written one word yet, and the thought of any of these other ventures had me shaking in my shoes. How could I ever travel around the country or go on television? God held my hand and calmed me. If God ever called me to do it, then He would have to give me the ability. Lord, help me.
Joe kept my secret while I waited for the ideal time to “come out of the closet” with my “calling.” It was only three days later when God told me that it was time to face the opposition. My battlefield started at home. Carl’s disposition was objective and reasonable (which are excellent qualities) but to me, he appeared negative, skeptical and more than doubtful. He was not an easy person to approach with “God talk.”
Now glory to God! By his mighty power at work within us, he is able to accomplish infinitely more than we would ever dare to ask or hope. (Ephesians 3:20, New Living Translation)
“Hampton Beach here we come…” Carl, Joe and I headed for another summer vacation at the beach. Nervously I waited for the courage to announce my “assignment from God.” In silence, I practiced my opening line, “Carl, God wants to use me…”
Carl will think it’s bizarre. It is bizarre. I must be crazy. How am I going to write a book? Then, suddenly—out of the blue—my head stopped bashing God’s instructions, and I heard in my spirit, “Just do it.” My heart told me to be honest, open and willing to go to any lengths. Who am I to say that God can’t do this? Nothing is impossible with God. Okay, Lord, I am ready.
With Joe in the backseat for moral support, I spouted in one quick breath, “Carl, God-asked-me-to-write-a-book.” He looked at me half smiling, half stunned. (His expression said, “You have got to be kidding.”). Carl took a minute to process my proclamation, then he presented my obvious handicap: “Pam, because you don’t read—except books about God and nutrition—you certainly don’t have a diversified vocabulary. How do you expect to write a book?” More boldly than I imagined, I said, “God wouldn’t ask me to do something without giving me the skills to do it.” This time he laughed out loud.
Although Carl had learned not to argue with my determined will, his body language expressed serious apprehension. Unable to contain his smirk, he challenged, “Okay, what are you going to write about?” I briefly explained that I was planning to write about my life and the gifts I had received along the way. Silence followed for what seemed like an eternity.
Swallowing my insecurities, I tried to break the ice. Lightheartedly I said, “Come on; help me think of a name for the book.” As we joked back and forth about possibilities, Carl’s tender heart started to surface. (He was rough around the edges, but soft and sweet on the inside.) He reflected upon some of our milestones and then concluded, “We certainly have had our ups and downs through the years; they were like bumps in the road of life.” We agreed that God’s love carried us over some exceptionally rough and rocky roads. The title, Just Another Bump in the Road, won our votes.
We arrived at our cottage. I hurriedly unpacked my gear. Blindly I sat at the outdated laptop. Except for e-mail, I was computer illiterate, but God used Joe’s calm spirit to quietly instruct me in computer lingo—over and over again. Joe had the patience of a saint. God bless him. Hours later I finally understood enough to write and save my messages.
I typed up a storm rambling through my early life, until God said, “Stop. I want you to tell people about your changing faith. Tell them about your food addiction, your ‘turnaround.’” As I waited to announce my latest “word from God,” I came up with a new title, Faith-ful (or full of food?). By the grace of God, my life was full of faith—not full of food.
Carl continued to watch and listen with an amused glimmer in his eyes. He may have thought I was in fantasyland, but he saw me happily toddling along, and that was all that mattered to him—if I was happy, then he was happy.
Needless to say, there were many “bumps in the road” along the way to publishing Full of Faith (or full of food?). I am here to tell you that every breath in this book is a gift from the Lord. Miracles happen—I am one. This book is another. There is no way in the world I could have done this work alone—to God be the glory. I am confident that God who began a good work in me will be faithful to complete it. (See Philippians 1:6.)
My heart and soul cries out to you, beloved friend, “Taste and see that the Lord is good; blessed is the man who takes refuge in him.” (Psalm 34:8, New International Version) Use my words, Lord Jesus, if it is Your will, to touch someone, somewhere, if only with a thimbleful of hope or an ounce of love. I wish I could spoon-feed every lost, lame and limping one…and distraught food addict alike. It is time for me to “let go and let God.” Into His hands I place my trust, my confident expectation and my hope. God bless you and keep you safe until we meet again on earth or in heaven.
Love in Jesus’ name,
Pamela J. Masshardt
I pray that Christ will be more and more at home in your hearts as you trust in him. May your roots go down deep into the soil of God’s marvelous love. And may you have the power to understand, as all God’s people should, how wide, how long, how high, and how deep his love really is. May you experience the love of Christ, though it is so great you will never fully understand it. Then you will be filled with the fullness of life and power that comes from God.
Now glory to God! By his mighty power at work within us, he is able to accomplish infinitely more than we would ever dare to ask or hope. May he be given glory in the church and in Christ Jesus forever and ever through endless ages. Amen. (Ephesians 3:l7-21, New Living Translation)