Chasing Skinny {Part Three}

I’ll have you know this story ends well.

It may not end clean. But it ends well.

I faithfully continued to teach those four to six ladies. My favorite part of the night being the end of class. Sitting in a circle on the floor to stretch our legs, we would each share a prayer request {mine always the infamous “unspoken”}. We held hands and prayed before we dismissed.

I now know how powerful and effective the prayers of those righteous women were. (My gut tells me they prayed for me outside of that little circle, too)

I kept going to church every Sunday. Sitting in the last pew with all of those safe ladies. But overtime they encouraged me to branch out and “meet some of the college kids.” No thanks. Too risky. I’ll keep right here. There seemed to be less judgement in the back.

But it wasn’t long before those risky, judging college kids came to me. And, surprise-surprise, they weren’t self-righteous or unsafe. They, too were warm and gracious. Inviting me to come to their class and fun, colleg-ey things.

I was starting to see a trend… Warm. Safe. Unjudging. Gracious people. Is this for real? When would the veil lift? Revealing the wolves. They had to be here, right?

Maybe. But I never found them.

The only thing I risked being in that church was my heart. I take that back…most of the activity in the baptist church involves good cookin’. That was risky.

Very risky.

No one yet knew my struggle or the turmoil inside.

I rededicated my life on the pink carpet of that little church. My road to skinny leading me to my Saviour. I was overwhelmed with the grace. Grace from Him. Grace from them. Everywhere I turned I found acceptance.

But there were still secrets to deal with. Skeletons screaming to come out. Healing to still be had.

But He can’t heal what I won’t give Him. And I held my card close. My good girl face was very believable. People didn’t know I struggled. Or maybe they did. Either way, I wasn’t ready to let my new, unjudging friends in just yet. What if they changed their mind about me? Risky.

I’d already bore my soul in the orange, vinyl chair. That bearded man got me no where.

One Sunday night after church we went to the music director’s house for cinnamon rolls. Home. Made. Cinnamon. Rolls. Be still my skinny heart. I really did not know how to handle myself that night. Not only were there cinnamon rolls, but there were M&Ms in little bowls all over the house. I was a mess. Everywhere I turned – sugar. Sugar. And more sugar.

I love sugar.

I remember that night being a deal breaker for me. I had to come clean with someone. It was just too much.

I drove my new friend Heather back to the church after my cinnamon roll craze. I pulled beside her car. “Do you have a second?”

She sat with me over an hour as I shared. Sitting in my ’95 Toyota she soaked in every word. Her eyes sweet and on me. Unlike what’s his name in that cold, student counseling office. She cried and prayed with me. She did not judge me. Or think less. She just loved me. And gave me a recommendation for a Great Counselor. And a Great Physician.

The One who knew my name.

I deeply longed for new. A new body. A renewed mind. A new heart.

And He had it all.

I had finally caught what I had been chasing. And it wasn’t skinny after all.Let us lay aside every weight and sin which clings so closely and let us run with endurance the race that is set before us, looking to Jesus the founder and perfecter of our faith. Hebrew 12:1b-2aIt was Him all along. Skinny was just the means to finding Him.

Sitting in that parking lot, with each spoken word, the chains were coming off. My silence had held me hostage long enough. My sin festering in the quiet. But, praise be to God, there is victory in the spoken word.

And as painful and as embarrassing as it was to say it all, I knew I had to tell her to be free.

But new birth did not come easy. It cost me. Everything, actually.

Chasing skinny led to my death. The death of the very best kind. The death of myself.

There is only room for One on the throne of my heart. And her skinny butt no longer fit.

But know this…she was stubborn to move. It has taken time, prayer and accountability. Vulnerability. And trust. Every so often she tries to climb back up on the throne. And I have to chase her away. Putting her to death again and again.

She is a skinny little thorn.

My road to recovery has not been brief nor clear cut.

It has been a bumpy and crooked ride. Full of sharp turns and wrong ways. But He has been there with me.

Hindsight actually tells me He was there all along. Every step the Stairmaster clocked – He was there. The Christmas party with the buckeyes and cheese ball – He was there. The next day, for eight grueling hours at the gym – He was there. The cold office in the orange, vinyl chair – He was there.

And no doubt he was in the light that blinked on my answering machine.

The phone call that changed my life.

I still may not know how that girl got my name and number.

But at least now…I know why.

To read Chasing Skinny {Part One and Two} click here.