I am MORE than a number on a Scale.

Ever see one of those diet program commercials on television?

Of course you have, and if you’re like me, the inner turmoil they tend to generate can make you want to flip to the next channel.

Watching one of those things can make it seem like all you have to do is let one of program’s weight “consultants” wave a magic wand over you, and send you some pre-packaged meals and you’ll soon be ready for the cover of Vogue.

The commercials usually include photos of what someone looked like before they lost the weight and after they lost it. They’re the “proof of life” for the product -- the selling point.

I always wondered why in those ‘before and after’ spots the ‘before’ photo was usually so distant and fuzzy, and the ‘after’ photo was so up-close and clear. I used to think it could’ve been a photo distortion trick used by the advertiser just to make you think it was really the same person in both photos (you know a stunt double kind of thing).

Then – this thought occurred to me – a lot of overweight people really hate having their picture taken, and they may not have too many “up close” photographs of themselves to offer for the ‘before’ photo.

I completely understand that. Even on my best hair and body day, I’m not crazy about having my picture taken. In these days of instant digital photography, when I look at images of myself I can see every line in my face and every gray hair in my head. ‘Makes me want to hit the “delete” button on the camera. I’ve done it a few times.

With the photos in these commercials come the testimonies, and they are usually similar from claimant to claimant:

“That was me 100 lbs. ago. The program works and now I’m a swimsuit model!”

Ok, that may be an exaggeration of the testimony, but you get the point the advertiser is trying to make: “This program works!” The rest of the story is this: “It works if you’re willing to work the program.”

Or read between the lines and hear the truth: “That was me 100 pounds ago. The program works and with a drastic change in my eating habits, exercise and lots of sweat, frustration and patience, I was able to lose the weight.”

There was a time when I was close to 100 pounds overweight and when I saw these things, I’d find myself somewhere between guilt and a chocolate cupcake! Or maybe it produced the desired effect because it did make me want to run out do something! Anything! Because I needed and wanted desperately to lose weight.

And, seriously: That WAS me 100 pounds ago. I did lose the weight and here’s my story.

About six years ago I embarked on a journey of weight loss that took me down a long hard road of sweat and tears (No blood, thankfully, unless you count the couple of doctor-ordered blood tests I had to take along the way.)

At the beginning of the journey, I was 41 years old and weighed in at 234 pounds. I’m not proud of it, and never would have broadcast my true weight six years ago. It was emotionally painful and physically exhausting.

I couldn’t climb stairs or walk any distance without breathing heavy. I hated having my picture taken, and usually tried to be the one in the back so no one could see me. However, at five feet, three inches, I’m usually one of the shortest ones in a group photograph and generally told by the photographer to stand in front.

Worst of all, I couldn’t stand to look at myself in the mirror. I would tell myself that I didn’t look as big as the scale said I was. I told myself that I didn’t look that bad. But I knew the truth. The mirror didn’t lie and deep inside I was dying. I hated who I was. Period. I thought my fat was ugly, and I thought losing weight would change everything that was wrong in my life. And, so, I tried. And tried. And tried to lose weight.

Like so many, I had lots of stops and starts on the weight loss journey. Lose a little – gain a little. Lose a little – gain a lot. Two steps up and one step back. One step up and two steps back. I believe it’s what they call “yo-yo dieting”. All this yo-yo-ing served to do was raise my hopes, and then leave me feeling frustrated, defeated and hopeless. This went on for years.

To get to the part where I actually began to steadily lose weight, I have to go back to the beginning. I believe that would take me back to the summer before the fifth grade – the dawn of pre-adolescence when I began to go through what parents call that “chubby phase”. Truthfully, it didn’t phase me much until some “thoughtless” classmate on the school playground called me ‘fat’ for the first time. Along with the excess weight, that painful label burrowed its way into my being and followed me all the way through high school.

In college, I lost some weight. I think I did the reverse of the “freshman 15”. I called it the “work hard/play hard” diet. I took 18 hours of classes, worked 20-30 hours a week and partied hard on the weekends. I was on the go a lot, “drank” a lot of meals, and didn’t have much time to think about eating so I “slimmed up” a bit.

After college and into marriage, my inner self grew and changed dramatically when I became a Christian. Unfortunately, so did my outer self.

I got married and was pregnant with my first child at age 25. During the pregnancy, I held down a 40-hour week job and had eight months of constant morning sickness. Still I managed to gained 65 pounds. It was a downhill slope from there that consisted of out of control eating, inactivity, life stress and two more pregnancies. My body just continued to grow.

This brings me back to the mirror at age 41 and 234 pounds.

At this point on the long, rocky journey of life I was tired. And fat. And tired of being fat. I felt defeated, physically and emotionally hopeless, like I couldn’t change. I didn’t know where to begin or what to do to change. I was embarrassed to admit I’d never learned how to eat right or responsibly, and I felt awkward and clumsy trying to exercise. I just knew I wanted to change.

Finally at a crossroads of do-or-die, I decided to take one more risk and give another weight loss program a try. I enrolled in one of those medically supervised hospital-run programs. It was expensive and very involved but offered some successful and dramatic results if I stuck with it. The “expensive” angle was the hook because I’m a true penny-pincher at heart and knew that if I invested a lot of money in something, I was gonna make it work or die trying.

After nine months of working the program, I lost 85 pounds and felt satisfied with the accomplishment . Several months after that program ended and I felt my weight creep up again, I started going to Weight Watchers and lost another 30 pounds, netting a total of about 100 pounds (depending on the week). I reached a goal weight, or what they call a “lifetime” weight at Weight Watchers and, by the grace of God and a little hard work and dedication, continue to remain at goal weight today.

Little did I know – reaching a weight loss goal was only the beginning of the journey.
Was I proud of myself? Heck, yeah! And still am. Did it change my life? Yes, but not the way I thought it would. There are some life lessons that I’ve learned that I’d like to share.

First, if you want to begin the journey of weight I think it’s important to recognize that the process has several phases, and it’s good to know which phase you’re at. To help, I’ve given each phase a name:

1) Contemplation – when you begin to think you might possibly need to make a change but aren’t quite ready to commit.
2) Conviction – when you know you need to make a change and begin to think about how to do it. (Also, I believe, this is the phase at which those commercials on TV begin to make you want to change the channel.)
3) Execution – when you are actually working toward a goal.
4) Completion – when you’ve reached a weight loss goal.

And finally in keeping with the ‘–tion’ words – the last phase – and I believe the hardest phase of all is the one I call:

5) Sanctification.

The word ‘sanctify’ or ‘sanctification’ is most often used in Biblical terms and has a dual meaning: (a) to set apart to a sacred purpose or to religious use, and (b) to free from sin or purify. It implies a “working out,” progression, or constant process with a set goal in mind – becoming more like God.

Sanctification in weight loss is the phase in which you have reached a goal and now must continue to “work out” your lifestyle change over the long haul. It’s the phase where you need to keep the lifestyle in check. At this point, while you may stumble along the way, good eating habits and exercise have become a way of life.

And if you haven’t experienced ‘physical sanctification’, it’s a lot harder than you imagine. Even after six years, there are days when I would consider throwing it all away for a box of Krispy Kreme doughnuts or a stuffed crust Pizza Hut Pepperoni Pizza. And I still don’t like to exercise.

While I “keep on keeping on”, the newness has worn off and the lifestyle has become a reality. This is where the real life lesson hits home for me, and what losing 100 pounds actually did for me physically and emotionally.

· I didn’t have to worry about having to pay twice as much for a seat on an airplane.
· I became more healthy, and lowered my blood pressure, blood sugar and/or triglycerides .
· I no longer feel the compulsion to move to the back row in a group photo.
· I don’t worry too much about breaking any piece of furniture I happen to sit on.
· I stopped shopping in the Plus Size department at my local department store.
· While I have no delusions about becoming a swimsuit model, I do sometimes contemplate putting on a swimsuit.


And here’s what I discovered that losing weight hadn’t done for me that I thought it would:

· While friends and acquaintances may have truly admired me for the accomplishment, they didn’t seem to love, or even like, me more. The people who love me, still love me the same, and those who don’t, well, they still don’t send me Christmas cards.

· Inside, I didn’t feel any more valuable as a human being than I did before the weight loss. It didn’t make me a better person.

In the beginning, this was a let down and I couldn’t understand why I didn’t feel any more valuable on the inside.

That’s because change – the transforming kind -- doesn’t work its way from the outside in. It works it way from the inside out.

You see, God created you in His image. You are more than a number on a scale. So much more.

Before you can successfully begin the process of weight loss, I think you need to come believe an essential truth:

While others may base their opinion of you on superficial things like outer appearance, there is a God who loves you just the way you are, no matter where you are or who you are, or what you look like.

His Word says:

“God created mankind in his own image,
in the image of God he created them;
male and female he created them.”
Genesis 1:27 (New International Version Bible)

And He gave us a cause to celebrate that creation:

“I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made; your works are wonderful,
I know that full well.”
Psalm 139:14 (NIV)

There is a beautiful inner core or soul in your being that surpasses anything on the outside. That’s the part that God created to worship Him and reflect His glory. Nothing on the outside can make that part ugly unless you let the outside work it’s way inside. And nothing can make that part ugly if you give that part of yourself to God because when you do, He gives you the Holy Spirit to “seal” and protect it. It will always be beautiful to Him.

But life can do a number on us. So often we allow a society bent on idolizing outer beauty to affect the way we see ourselves. Still, to this day, I can still look in the mirror and feel “overweight”.

I don’t regret losing weight for a minute, but it didn’t give me the inner peace and self-satisfaction I desperately sought. It simply made me healthier and perhaps (arguably) look a little better on the outside.

Let me make this clear:

You will never be thin enough, beautiful enough or wealthy enough to satisfy your inner self. Many women and men have literally died trying. Rehab clinics are filled with people who have sought inner satisfaction from things like drugs, alcohol and starving themselves to death. I believe that God created us with an inner longing or emptiness that only He can fill. Once we begin to understand that and allow Him to permeate our lives we become satisfied and fulfillment works its way from the inside out into our lives. At that point, our weight doesn’t determine our value as a human being. It is simply a number on a scale.

So if losing weight doesn’t solve all of life’s problems why should you do it? Why not just eat what you want, when you want as much as you want?

Here’s a reason.

God gave us only one physical “walking around” body for this lifetime. Your body is a gift from Him. It is one of the most natural resources on the planet and if you were going to get excited about conservation, in my opinion, the body would be the first and best place to start.

The Apostle Paul reminds us in I Corinthians 6:19:

“Do you not know that your bodies are temples of the Holy Spirit, who is in you, whom you have received from God?” (NIV)

The body is the dwelling place of the Holy Spirit and it is the primary vessel that God has given us for serving Him. I believe if our bodies become unhealthy due to lack of care, it’s possible that God may not be able to use us to our full potential. I lived that out. Being overweight made me tired and weak. Many days I didn’t have the energy to do all the things I felt called to do as a woman, wife, mother, friend, etc. Taking an afternoon nap became a daily priority and it often came before the calling.

Please understand this: God can and does work through weak (and overweight) bodies. In fact, the Bible says He prefers to work through our weakness to demonstrate His power.

But like everything else God provides for us, including our time, money and talents, I believe God expects us to take care of and use our bodies wisely for our good and His glory. If we look at weight loss and body maintenance this way it becomes a spiritual act of stewardship and we realize we are more than just a number on a scale.

I believe having God in your life while trying to lose weight gives you a supernatural strength that is beyond description. Like many things you can probably do it without Him in your life, but having Him adds an element of enrichment and fulfillment that makes it much sweeter and gives it greater meaning and purpose.

Looking back, one of the things I remember most about starting the process of weight loss, was my dietician in the hospital program telling the members of our little support group that it was important to have a “reason” for going through the process – something beyond just wanting to lose weight. It needed to be a specific reason.

She said it didn’t have to be something epic or monumental. It could be something as simple as wanting to look good for your 25th high school reunion, or desiring the ability to take a walk with your child or grandchild without becoming winded. Or if you believe in a “higher calling,” it might be a desire to serve God better with your physical body. In any case, the reason is important and you need to keep it front of you as a focal point.

Here’s why:

If you’ve ever done it – started a diet – or set your feet in the direction of a lifestyle change -- and, seriously, who among us hasn’t – you know there are days when you just want to quit -- to go back to “Egypt” – to the days of enslavement to indiscriminate eating and not caring what or how much we eat. Just a longing to satisfy the palate with delicious comfort, or in less poetic terms, grab a family size bag of potato chips and go to town! Those days are tough and can occur frequently in the process, and as the saying goes: “Some days you get the bear, and some days the bear gets you.”

It’s those days that ‘the bear gets you’ that you need to look to that reason and say: “I’m not gonna quit!! I may be down, but I’m not out! I need to keep my eyes on the prize!”

The Apostle Paul gave us a challenge and a mantra for this direction. He said:

“Do you not know that in a race all the runners run, but only one gets the prize? Run in such a way as to get the prize.”

1 Corinthians 9:23-25 (NIV)

Metaphorically speaking, life is a race. We all run it. We all stumble. We all fall down occasionally. It’s what we do afterward that speaks volumes about us. God can give us the strength to get back up and begin again.

The journey of weight loss is also a race. I am living proof that weight loss is do-able and also living proof that the runner often stumbles.

Weight loss is a race that begins like all races -- with many runners, different in size and shape, but all there for the same purpose – to finish the race. Some of us runners are more experienced than others, but we all put one foot in front of the other and try to keep going straight toward the finish line. When we veer, we need get back on the path and not look back. And we need to look to our fellow runners for encouragement.

But most important, no matter the distraction or the discouragement, no matter how hard or high the climb: Don’t stop running!

Hagar and the Invisible

“Am I only a God nearby, and not a God far away,” declares the LORD.
“Can anyone hide in secret places so that I cannot see him,” declares the LORD.
“Do not I fill heaven and earth,” declares the LORD
-- Jeremiah 23:23-24, NIV


I’ve got a secret. I have a super power. Yes, that’s correct – a super power.

I’m absolutely convinced that with the bat of an eye or the twinkle of the nose I can transform myself into the Invisible Woman. I am that good!

OK. I can’t really become invisible, but it sure feels like I can sometimes.

Let me illustrate:

I’m at a party with a group of other women. I’m standing in the foyer of the party room looking in. It’s like I’m there but I’m set apart in a hazy, suspended state watching them interact. There -- but not -- if you know what I mean. Stand beside me and look in.

If you look closely, you can see them laughing, talking, and having a good time.

Oh, how I long to join them – be one of them. I take a breath and look around waiting to make my move. Since my “special power” keeps me from being seen I can hover on the sidelines contemplating my choices. Should I relinquish my “invisibility” and join the group, or stay put in the loneliness, but safety, of my invisibility.

Confession time. I don’t like parties or crowds very much. They produce in me a sense of anxiety that I can’t adequately describe. But I always want to be invited to get togethers, and I usually go. It’s just that times like these raise my self-consciousness level to a whole new height. In a group, I can become so focused on myself that my vision is distorted to the point that I am the one who can’t see what’s going on. It’s a progression of distortion that begins with “Hey, can’t you see me? Look at me! I’m over here!” This turns to, “Why can’t you see me?” Why don’t you care?” To “Nobody sees me. Nobody cares.”

Feeling alone in a crowd can be one of the loneliest feelings in the world. It’s worse than being truly alone because you feel like you don’t belong in the group – like a third wheel in a twosome. Awkward. Invisible, or worse, having someone (like yourself) wish you were.

I asked my two teenage daughters if they’d ever felt invisible in a group and if so, what that felt like.

My 18-year old, Meagan, spoke up quickly, referencing a recent incident. “You mean like when we’re all sitting at the dinner table and I’m telling a story and somebody else at the table changes the subject in the middle of it?”

Ouch! Yes, just like that.

“Well, if you’ll recall, Mom, I got up and left the table. How do you think I felt?”

I actually didn’t recall it until she reminded me. Her words, which pierced my heart, answered my question. (‘I felt like I wasn’t even there, so I might as well have not been there.’)

Everyone wants to be seen and acknowledged. When we’re present but don’t feel like we’re seen, can bring a sense of worthlessness to our being. Crudely put, we can feel like something to be scraped off the bottom of someone’s shoe.

That’s what happens when we measure our worth by what we sense we bring (or don’t bring) to the party when we are in the room. It takes our focus off those around us, and places it on self – with a heightened self-awareness, self-submersion, and dare I say it? Even, sometimes, self-pity.

My heart goes out to my daughter and all people who feel like they don’t “fit in”. I know the pain first hand. Been there. Done that. Could print my own t-shirt.

But navigating my way inward toward my own heart-felt pain can steer me away from the Truth. The Truth of the One who really sees me.

The prophet Jeremiah wrote:

“The heart is deceitful above all things and beyond cure. Who can understand it?” (Jeremiah 17:9, NIV)

Our hearts can lie to us and tell us we are invisible. So how do I assure myself I’m not really invisible?

I could take a poll when I’m among friends, and ask who can see me and who can’t. I could say, “Somebody, slap me across the face!” And see if anyone does it. I could set myself on fire and see if anyone comes running with a bucket of water.

Or I could draw insight and encouragement from the example of a lonely, desperate young woman in the Old Testament who realized she wasn’t invisible when she had an encounter with the Almighty God, the Holy of Holies, the God who saw her as no one else ever had.

Her name was Hagar. She was an Egyptian slave girl brought into the family of a prominent and upright man named Abram to serve his wife Sarai. He was the man who God said would become the “Father of Many Nations.”

However, this probably didn’t make Hagar feel any more important than if she’d been the lone soul working for an indigent potato farmer named Homer. She was one of many servants in Abram’s household. But nevertheless she stood out to Sarai, not because of her intelligence, or her skill as a handmaid, but because she had an available, working womb.

You see Sarai had a problem. She was caught between a promise and a biological time clock. God had promised her a child, but she was getting older and older. In fact, she was just plain old. At last look at the calendar, she was in her eighties. Who has a baby when they are that old? Hadn’t she laughed when God told her she’d have a baby? It seemed like an absurd promise. But Sarai knew God always kept His promises, so maybe He planned to fulfill that promise in a more logical way with a younger woman. And maybe He needed some help moving it along. And here was this young slave girl. Attractive – Probably. Available – Certainly. And willing – What did it matter? She belonged to the master’s wife. The servant would do what she was told.

Hagar was told to have sexual relations with Abram and bear his child for the purpose of giving it to her mistress to raise as her own. Whether she knew all the details of the plan or not, who knows. Who knows what the mistress told her to get her to do this. Maybe she just ordered her to lay down with Abram. Whatever the case, it worked. Hagar became pregnant and when she began to show all the progressive signs of pregnancy -- the morning sickness, the swelled extremities, and perhaps that certain glow that comes with the privilege of bearing a child -- Sarai began to sense she’d made a big mistake.

Resentment set in. “Who did this slave girl think she was? Did she think she was better than her mistress?” Sarai may have thought, “After all, if it weren’t for me, she’d still just be brushing my hair and sweeping my floors.”

Yes, the master’s wife was unhappy. All she wanted to do was un-do the mistake she had made. Get rid of this woman who had upset her happy home. Make her feel like the nothing she really was.

And then there was Hagar the slave girl. Who cared what she thought? What she felt? Caught in the middle between her mistress and the child growing in her womb.

Life had never been easy for her. Her destiny probably spelled out before she could even understand. From the beginning, she’d been herded up like property and sold into servitude. Then singled out as a concubine ordered to produce a child. And when she complied, she was mistreated and abused like cheap trash. Her pain felt by no one else. She was nwanted. Uncared for. Unseen. It was enough to make any woman want to run away. And that’s what she did.

Hagar ran as far away as she could go. She ran into a hot, dry desert with feelings of desperation, worthlessness and perhaps even suicide. Were it not for the child she was carrying she might lie down and die. After all, who would notice she was even gone. Who would care? They would just get another slave to replace her. Maybe even another vacant womb to bear a child.

Hagar’s life could’ve ended there. But God intervened.

In the middle of that desert, Hagar discovered herself. Someone saw her and told her who she was. And that someone was the God of the whole universe.

The Bible says an angel of the LORD came to her and said:
“Hagar, slave of Sarai, where have you come from, and where are you going?” (Gen. 16:8a, NIV)
It was like one of those lawyer/cop questions that this angel most likely knew the answer to. He just wanted to make sure Hagar knew that HE KNEW.
Hagar’s reply:
“I’m running away from my mistress Sarai.”
Again, the angel knew. His reply back:
“Go back to your mistress and submit to her.”
The angel added,
“I will increase your descendants so much that they will be too numerous to count.”
“You are now pregnant
“and you will give birth to a son.
You shall name him Ishmael,
for the LORD has heard of your misery.
He will be a wild donkey of a man;
his hand will be against everyone
and everyone’s hand against him,
and he will live in hostility
toward all his brothers.”
(Gen. 16:9-12, NIV)
OK. Now this part of the angel’s prophecy doesn’t sound too encouraging. Who wants to be told that her child will become “a wild donkey of a man” or that he will live a life in a constant struggle with others?
But Hagar found a sense of comfort. I don’t think it was the content of the message that comforted her. Her reply to the angel of the LORD (who many believe to be God Himself) spoke volumes about the source of her comfort:
“You are the God who sees me,” for she said, “I have now seen the One who sees me.”
It was here in the barrenness and loneliness of the desert that an Egyptian slave girl gave God a new name: El-Roi, which means “the God Who Sees.”
And as hard as it must have been to return to the source of her pain, God’s word to Hagar encouraged and strengthened her to do just that. It is the power of being seen. The power of being acknowledged and given a sense of worth. Not by another person, but by a Holy God who found her and called her out in the middle of nowhere.
If God can see a slave girl weeping in the middle of a huge desert, can He also see me in my own despair in the middle of Little Rock, Arkansas? Can He see me standing alone and lonely in the middle of a crowd? Can He see me feeling demeaned when I’m interrupted while telling my story at the dinner table? Can He see me crying out in prayer over a prodigal child? Can He look down from heaven and help me pick up the pieces of a broken relationship? Provide for me and my family in the middle of a financial crisis?
Oh, yes He can! And in a big way because He is still the “God who sees.” – El Roi
Consider David, the king and prophet from the Old Testament. He wrote this Psalm to God while he was on the run from King Saul who wanted to kill him. At a time when he felt alone, desperate and hated by so many:
“I sought the LORD, and he answered me;
he delivered me from all my fears.
Those who look to him are radiant;
their faces are never covered with shame.
This poor man called, and the LORD heard him;
he saved him out of all his troubles.
The angel of the LORD encamps around those who fear him, and he delivers them.”
(Psalm 34: 4-7)
These words bring so much comfort to me today because in them I am reminded that I am never alone when I cry out to God. He is there even before I form the words in my mind.
David went on to write:
“The eyes of the LORD are on the righteous,
and his ears are attentive to their cry;
but the face of the LORD is against those who do evil,
to blot out their name from the earth.”
(Psalm 34: 15-16)

I can’t really make myself invisible because even if no other person could see me, God can. I don’t really have super powers, but I serve a God who does, and He uses His super powers for good to help those who cry out to him. He is all knowing, all loving and all seeing.

It’s good to see and be seen.

UNMET EXPECTATION = DISAPPOINTMENT = LIFE LESSON

I was a little frustrated. I had no right to be, but I was. Unmet expectation has a way of doing that. But it's not always a bad thing.

I went in to my Bible study last night expecting to discuss the lesson I’d worked on the week before – the lesson the Bible study author wrote for us to discuss – the lesson I thought I needed and had anticipated discussing for six weeks -- but that’s not what happened. I was disappointed to say the least.

Disappointment occurred in two stages.

For the past six weeks, our women’s Bible study group has been going through Brave, a study written by Christian author Angela Thomas. It’s a study that’s prompted a lot of my personal writing of late.

At the beginning of the study, I looked through the lessons and zeroed in on Lesson 5 entitled “I Am Invisible.” Intrigued by the title and provoked by the concept of “invisibility,” I dove into the lesson, which centered on the plight of Hagar, a woman in the Bible I had always felt a sort of “kinship” with, but never understood why.

She hadn’t shown the courage and faith of a Biblical heroine like Esther or Ruth. She didn’t give birth to one of the Patriarchs like Sarah or Rebekah (In fact, she was a slave girl who’d given birth to the man who would become the forerunner of Islam). But she had shown bravery in the face of tribulation, and had been singled out by God for a personal visit and a place in world history. Why? In part, because out of obedience to God, she turned around and returned to the source of her pain. Seems like sort of a dubious honor. Feels like my life on many days. That’s why I can relate to her. That’s why I anticipated the discussion and counted ahead to this lesson.

(I’m not going to write about my kinship with Hagar or feelings of invisibility in this installment. That comes in the next one. This installment is about disappointment and discipline and how God is using them in me.)

Disappointment #1 came when I looked at the calendar and realized that our family vacation was going to fall during the week that our group was supposed to discuss Lesson 5. I remember thinking in frustration, “Well, that figures!”

But God intervened. Much to my delight, I found out that our group was going to take a break the week we were gone (because it was a holiday week) and I wouldn’t miss the discussion after all. I would get to be a part of the lesson I had eagerly anticipated for five weeks and the one that I felt spoke volumes to who I was and what I’d been feeling my whole life. I believed I wanted and needed the catharsis that would come from discussing this lesson with the other women in my group. In other words, I was planning to use the lesson that week for my own personal group therapy.

So during our vacation and I read through the lesson and answered the questions eagerly anticipating the discussion and the fellowship that would come from it. I looked forward to shared empathy with my “Sisters of the Shared Invisibility.”

However -- Disappointment #2 -- that’s not the way it worked out.

My friend, Debbie, who led the discussion last night, had other ideas. She took the lesson in a different direction “turning the concept of invisibility on its head” as she put it. As a knee-jerk response (emphasis on ‘jerk’) I decided from the get-go that I might just shut it down and go to a different place in my head because I wasn’t going to get the “therapy” or the answers from the lesson I wanted.

Debbie, instead, prompted by God to do something different, focused on the “other” characters of the lesson: Abram/Abraham, Sarai/Sarah and Ishmael and elements of their character. Debbie’s an excellent teacher who puts a lot of prayer, study and thought into her teaching. I could write volumes about her teaching (not to mention what she means to my life personally), but it’s not her teaching that’s germane to this writing because it’s not the teaching she brought that taught me last night. It was what God showed me afterwards that was pertinent.

Teaching comes in all different kinds of packages and through and all different kinds of voices.

Let me just tell you that I couldn’t be mad at Debbie too long especially for being obedient to God. She is one of my best friends, and I know her well enough to know that she listens to God when He speaks to her and she is, more often that not, obedient to His leading. I don’t know why God led her to take the discussion in this direction, but I didn’t doubt for a second that He had.

I just realized I wasn’t going to get what I wanted from it, so I had two choices: (1) I could be angry or (2) I could pray and ask God to help me be patient and listen. I think I chose a combination of the two.

I listened but it was like the modern-day parable of the child riding in the back seat of the car:

The story goes that the driver, presumably the mother, is driving down a road and looks in her rear view mirror. In horror, she sees her child out of the seatbelt, standing up in the back seat of the car. She immediately pulls the car over and stops. She turns around and emphatically tells the child to sit down and fasten the seatbelt. After a brief stare down the child reluctantly sits down and fastens the seat belt. The mother puts the car in drive and continues on to her destination. In a short while, from the backseat, she hears a quiet voice mutter the words: “I’m sittin’ down on the outside, but I’m standin’ up on the inside.”

That’s how I am when I don’t get my way. I’ll reluctantly do what I’m supposed to do, but I may not enthusiastically engage in it. I may even stare daggers into your back when you tell me to do it -- like the child in the back seat.

So when it was all said and done I walked away from Bible study frustrated and a wee bit angry. I felt I’d been thrown an unfair curve. I went home, still chewing on frustration and confusion, and trying to decipher what it all meant.

When I got home, I shared my frustration with my husband. I also shared the subject matter of the lesson with Bob and my disappointment at not getting to discuss it. I explained my kinship with Hagar – my own feelings of invisibility and how this lesson was ‘written for me’ and how this interpretation of the lesson that was supposed to help me with my “invisibility complex” actually made me feel more invisible because it didn’t address my issues.

Bob responded in a very “Bob-like” way. I listened. Then for a brief time, I really didn’t like him or his response very much:

He said, “Did you ever stop and think that God knew you could feed yourself from the lesson and tonight’s discussion wasn’t really for you?”

I swear sometimes I could be bleeding from my eyes and instead of sympathy; I’d get a life lesson on what God was trying to show me through the blood that clouded my vision. (I do love you, honey!)

Well, no, I didn’t think about that, and thank you for pointing that out instead of agreeing with me.

Wait minute! You mean it wasn’t about me? It wasn’t just for me?

It’s like God stared down into my soul and whispered the first line of Chapter One of Rick Warren’s book, The Purpose Driven Life, into the depth of me: “It’s not about you.”

If not me, then who for? I don’t know for sure. I believe it must’ve been meant for one of the 20 or so other women in the room. Only God knows and Debbie put her teaching in His hands to distribute as He saw fit. I know Debbie prayed for it to reach somebody who needed it and I also pray that it did. And in a way, it taught me as well. Probably not in the way she’d intended. But isn’t that just like God:

“’For my thoughts are not your thoughts, neither are your ways my ways,’ declares the LORD.” (Isaiah 55:8, NIV)

So, my lesson last night didn’t come really from the study at all, but from my own reaction to it. In it, I was reminded of several bits of wisdom, including these:

1) Bible study groups are not always time for my own personal therapy. (In other words, it’s not always ‘about me’ or ‘for me.’)
2) Lessons can be learned from disappointment and unmet expectations and how I deal with them.
3) Don’t discount any teaching that comes from God, even if it doesn’t seem like it applies to you. (2 Timothy 3:16)

Ok, message received.

Next stop – Hagar and the Invisible. (Sounds like a comic strip. . . )

Patient Endurance, What a Concept!

Webster's Dictionary definition of the word PATIENT

1: bearing pains or trials calmly or without complaint
2: manifesting forbearance under provocation or strain
3: not hasty or impetuous
4: steadfast despite opposition, difficulty, or adversity
5: able or willing to bear


Martha's definition of the word: PATIENT

“It’s gonna hurt!"

Webster's Dictionary definition of the word: ENDURANCE

1: duration
2: the ability to withstand hardship or adversity; especially : the ability to sustain a prolonged stressful effort or activity


Martha's definition of the word: ENDURANCE

“It’s gonna take a long time!”


So my definition of the phrase “patient endurance”

“It’s gonna hurt a long time.”

Ok, vocabulary lesson over. Thank you, Merriam-Webster.



Now onto to today’s life lesson from the annals of my Bible study time.

In Second Corinthians 1:3-10, Paul describes his trials as a servant of God. He gives a very honest, no holds barred, un-sugar-coated description of what he has suffered, and goes on to describe a reason for the suffering in verse 6:

“If we are distressed, it is for your comfort and salvation; if we are comforted, it is for your comfort, which produces in you patient endurance (emphasis added) of the same sufferings we suffer.”

In today’s Bible study lesson, using the Brave study written by Angela Thomas, I was asked to describe “patient endurance” (Lesson 4, Day 3, p. 98).

Most of the time when I’m asked to describe something, I automatically go into “deep think” mode and try to conjure a description from my senses and experience attempting also to give detail and analysis. (I know, I’d be a psychiatrist’s dream.)

Here’s what I wrote for my answer in the study book:

(Patient endurance is) “Acceptance of a trial; going through it with expectation that it will produce something God has purposed.”

In other words, that was my Sunday school answer.

Actually, I was thinking: “Patient endurance means going through something that’s gonna hurt, and it’s gonna hurt for a long time.”

Let me just gripe a bit and say: “I don’t like the word, patience.” I’ve heard that if you pray for it, God will send some horrible Job-like pestilence into your life to help you learn patience. That doesn’t sound too pleasant, so, I don’t pray for it too often. Before you whip out your Bible and try to correct me spiritually, let me qualify that statement and say, “I know that it’s not true.” At least in my head, I know it. It’s my heart that struggles with the notion.

Being patient is hard work. And patient endurance – Don’t get me started!

When I think about the word endurance, I picture a marathon runner “hitting the wall into the fifth mile or so. That little Biblical motivational voice in his or her head saying, “You can do this! Run the race with endurance. Run in such a way to win the prize.” All I can think is, “Oh, Paul, please be quiet!” Actually I’m thinking words a little stronger than those.

But, truly, I trust Paul as a Spiritual adviser so I’m operating on the idea that patient endurance is a good thing. And with that I ask (and bravely, if I do say so myself): if this patient endurance stuff is supposed to be good for you, how do you get it?

Paul has the answer in the text of Second Corinthians 1:6 --

“If we are comforted, it is for your comfort, which produces in you patient endurance (emphasis added) of the same sufferings we suffer.”

Paul says that it’s not the distress that produces patient endurance. It’s the comfort we receive in the distress that produces it.

How do we respond to this distress emotionally? Spiritually? Do we cry and scream? Or do we put on “our Sunday-go-to-meeting” big girl pants (or skirt, if you’re of the fundamental persuasion) and our happy face? And where does this comfort come from? Can it be derived from a good self-help book? Meditation? A prescription “happy pill”?

Angela Thomas says in the study:

“I don’t think God is asking us to hide our real emotions or fears. We just can’t help how our humanity responds to heartache and suffering. The physical body gasps for air when we can’t breathe just as the spiritual body gasps for grace when we are in need. Paul showed us how to be honest with our struggles and how to run to the God of all comfort with our fears.” (Brave, Lesson 4, Day 3, p. 98)

Run to God.

That seems to be the answer for everything. And it is. I know it to be true in my own life. I can’t get through a single day without running to God for something. “God, I’m angry. Help me calm down” “God, I’m tired. Can you give me some of that ‘rest for my soul’?” “God, I’m stressed out? Where is the ‘peace that passes understanding’?”

And when I go to him for refuge, He’s always there, unlike some people I know. He doesn’t always give me what I want. He does always give me what I need.

So I’m almost convinced maybe it’s not such a bad thing to pray for patient endurance.
Deeper thinking (and some prayer) helped me to see that the word ‘patient’ actually implies: “waiting with a degree of expectation” that something good is going to come. Otherwise, why be patient? Why not demand it now? Why not stomp and cry like a two-year old? If I’m patient, something is going to happen. We wouldn’t be patient for something bad to happen? “Oh, gee, I just can’t wait for that pink slip to be laid on my desk at work. But, I guess I’d better be patient.” Absurd.

And endurance seems to go hand in hand with patience. Endurance implies that we are going through something. It may mean something physically painful like an illness or affliction; something emotionally painful like a strained relationship, or even something mildly painful like a boring lecture on molecular biology. (Don’t have a clue what molecular biology is or, if it is. ‘Just a term I pulled out of thin air.)

When we endure, we have a sense that it (whatever it is) will end someday. Relief will come. We just have to be -- you guessed it -- patient. We have to endure with expectation

Paul says in Second Corinthians 1:4 that when He receives comfort from the God of all comfort, he (in turn) can comfort those in any trouble with the comfort he has received from God.

So patient endurance is not entirely about us. It’s like everything else God gives us. We are given it to share with those in need. We are to be good stewards of our “patient endurance”.

With that in mind, don’t go thinking – as tempting as it might be – that you can pray affliction on your enemies so God can give them some of that “patient endurance”!

Instead, pray that God will show you how to use your own “patient endurance” to share comfort to someone who’s in pain.

You can probably think of somebody right now who fits that bill. It might be a family member or friend going through a difficult time that you’ve been through. It may be a neighbor child crying on the sidewalk near your home. Or it could be a Facebook friend with a disturbing status update that you’ve thought of posting yourself at one time or another. Or it might be a complete stranger you see who has a troubled look on his or her face that spurs in you a twinge of empathy and compassion.

Time to whip out that experiential comfort that has produced in you patient endurance. It’s the gift that keeps on giving. It’s the thing that says, “You’re not alone. I got through it and with God’s help so can you.” Patient endurance is your testimony. Without it, you are just afflicted like those you try to help -- the proverbial ‘blind leading the blind’. It’s not the pain that qualifies us to comfort. It’s the patient endurance produced by the comfort which leads us to comfort others, giving praise and glory to God for “getting us to the other side”.

In fact, Paul begins this passage in Second Corinthians 1 by saying: “Praise (emphasis added) be to the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of compassion and the God of all comfort.” (v. 3, NIV).

You don’t have to praise God because you are in pain. You praise Him because you have expectation that He will comfort you in your pain, and can use it to comfort others if you endure and finish the race.

The Thorn in my Flesh

Long time, no see. I haven't stopped writing. I've just stopped recording. Here's another installment . . .


Hello. My name is Martha, and I have a thorn in my flesh.

A thorn. Just like the apostle Paul. It’s a piercing, stinging thorn that has crippled me emotionally and left me crying out to God to remove it. I’m not sure if it’s the same thorn Paul had, but it hurts. I’ve felt it every day for as long as I can remember. The thing is I’ve never really been sure what the thorn was – what to call it; how to label it – until now.

OK. So now I get it - at least part of it. This morning, during my time with God, He showed me a clearer picture of what the thorn is. Up to now, like I said, I haven’t been able to put a name on it. I’ve just known how it’s made me feel: empty, hopeless, helpless, defeated, depressed, lonely, isolated, abandoned, frustrated, angry, envious and downright disappointed.

It’s that last word that I keyed in on this morning thanks to Proverbs 13:12: “Unrelenting disappointment leaves you heartsick. . . “ (The Message – emphasis added). So now I have one more word to describe how I feel: heartsick.

God has shown me that the thorn I suffer with and have suffered with as long as I can remember is “unrelenting disappointment.” The NIV calls it “hope deferred.” Either way, it sums up how I feel. I have an unrelenting disappointment with myself and the “me” that I am. Inside I have this longing to be a different person – one who is highly skilled, successful and deeply loved and affirmed by every one around me. Also, I want to have an ordered life that brings me peace; that satisfies my deep longings, and brings contentment to my soul. I want to be the person that has it all together, the girl everyone wants to be around. The “go to” girl.

I think I have been chasing this “phantom” my whole life. I’ve seen pieces of the “other me” in other people: “the successful career woman”, “the sought after companion”, “the much admired mother with the perfect children”; “the cherished wife”, “the woman with the lovely home”, and the “carefree traveler.” At least, I’ve seen what I thought were these women. That’s what it looks like from the outside. I know looks can be deceiving, and deceit comes from the “great deceiver” himself.

Nonetheless, these (distorted) snapshots of the “pieces” I’ve seen have reached down into my soul and stirred in me the aforementioned feelings. Inside I scream: “THAT’S WHAT I WANT.” For some reason, they are out of my grasp and my hope remains “deferred”.

And so Satan has placed in me a thorn of “unrelenting disappointment”. I haven’t been able to remove the thorn. Nothing I’ve tried has worked. A college degree hasn’t removed it. Marriage and children haven’t removed it. Friends haven’t removed it. Church work hasn’t removed it. Even losing 100 pounds hasn’t removed it. My hope remains deferred.

But does “deferred hope” mean “denied hope?” Can “unrelenting disappointment” give way to a steady flow of “continuous contentment”?

This morning an epiphany: What God has shown me is that I need to ask myself a question that He asks and answers, and only a “brave” person can accept the answer to: God asks me, “Am I enough for you?” Even if I never get past the disappointment with who I am and what I have: “Is God enough?”

What is God trying to show me through all this? What am I supposed to learn from it? How does it get me closer to being the woman God wants me to be? Surely, God doesn’t want me to carry around all those negative feelings. An answer came through my study of Angela Thomas’ Brave Bible study:

“. . . I had hoped I could choose humility through obedience to Christ. I would learn about humility from the Scriptures, apply that truth to my life, follow Jesus wholeheartedly, and therefore live as a humble woman. I still think that can happen for some people. But God in His sovereignty has allowed this longer, deeper, wider lesson about humility with my thorn.” (p. 52, Brave study workbook)

Humility. That’s what God wants me to learn. Satan has pierced me with the thorn. It remains lodged in me, stinging me, and God is using it to teach me. He knows that if I had those things I desired right now that they would lead to an arrogance and complacency in me that would make me believe I had all I needed without God.

I’m not sure if God doesn’t want to have or be those things I desire ever, or if He just doesn’t want me to have them yet. I do know that if I look back at my life, He has given me a taste of some of the things I desire, just not a “heaping helping” of them. The feeling of contentment has left as quickly as it’s come, and disappointment returns. Hope remains deferred.

Why? Because God doesn’t want me to be arrogant or complacent. He wants me to want Him. He wants me to see that He is enough – that even if I never get all those things He is enough. His grace is sufficient. Right now that stings a little. It doesn’t replace the “unrelenting disappointment” or the “deferred hope”. It is Truth, and if I can cross the canyon from where I’m at to acceptance of this truth I will be a better person. I will come closer to becoming the woman God wants me to be. And deep down, that’s all I really want.