My Fight to "Rest"

I think you can learn a thing or two about a person by asking what his/her ideal vacation would be like. Take my brother for example: you may know nothing about him, but you might get an idea if I told you his desire on vacation is to do nothing and see no one. He doesn't want to travel far to get where he's going, and once he gets there he doesn't want to do much until it's time to leave. 

If you don't know my brother, that could give you a small picture of his personality, and if you do know my brother, you probably know which of the five I'm talking about. 

I love my brother, and I actually admire the fact that he can sit around doing nothing in particular and still have the time of his life. I, on the other hand, can hardly even comprehend such a trip- I'm much too restless for that. When I go on a vacation, I go to do everything. When my brother goes on vacation, he goes to do nothing. That's just who I am and who he is, and that's just how we've both always been. 

Even throughout childhood I was always on the go. My mom tells me I would rarely allow myself to be held once I learned how to crawl; I wanted to be moving. When I was a kid, I remember playing "work" and pretending like I was going to my job where the office was made out of an old ironing board and cardboard boxes. I liked to work. "Doing" is inherently a part of who I am. I always wanted to be doing something. 

This is all fine and dandy I suppose, until God starts asking you to rest. To a woman whose idea of a long nap is 20 minutes, the thought alone of "resting" freaked me out. I don't rest, I do. 

It was roughly two years ago when I first started hearing this call from the Lord to rest. I didn't quite know what that meant, but I wasn't sure I wanted or needed to know because I didn't feel all that tired, so I just brushed it off and kept "doing." 

Whenever I felt like God was asking me to rest, I thought he was simply suggesting, like my friends had, that I slow down so I don't burn out. I genuinely felt fine, and so I would kindly take the words with a grain of salt and say, "Thanks, but no thanks. I'm fine." 

This is what my life looked like in that season: I was attending college full-time, working two different jobs full-time, leading a life group for my church, attending a separate life group, and dedicating at least one night a week to the church community. (I also did other things like maintain a serious relationship, exercise regularly, receive good grades, visit my family, remain an avid and up-to-date sports fan, read up to 25 books a year, maintain a social life, etc., but the former were more of my responsibilities at that time in life).

Needless to say, I was busy, but I loved every second of it. I'd say I was fine and I meant it. In actuality, I felt great. I thrive on busyness.

Though I kindly denied God's offer, He kept whispering to me about rest. I wanted to listen even if I didn't understand Him, so I quit one of my jobs. I thought rest meant I needed to stop doing as much as I was, so I figured working 20 less hours per week would be super restful. Truth is that it might've been, but really I just filled that time with more of what I was doing before. I assumed that because I wasn't working, I must've been resting.

I wasn't. 

Life went on like this for awhile. I'd feel God's pull in my heart to rest, I'd give up some responsibility in an attempt to find said rest, I wouldn't find it, and then I'd inadvertently fill the time I gave up with something else to do. I became frustrated and confused as I continued to feel God's tug and lacked any feeling of rest, yet I was giving up all the things I wanted to do and all the responsibilities I wanted to have.

To me, to rest meant to stop. Since I stopped and didn't find rest, I thought I might as well do what I want (which always meant busying my life once again).

At the beginning of this year when I moved across the country to attend discipleship school, I believed it was the perfect opportunity to find the rest that had been escaping me. I knew it would be a season in which I'd have no job to work, no college to attend, no roles to lead, no relationship to maintain, no social life to upkeep, no sports tv to watch, and no ability to regularly visit my family. I thought I'd have no choice BUT to rest, and that I'd surely find the rest God had wanted for me.

It wasn't long before I began to feel the affects of such a season, but they weren't feelings of rest. No, in fact, they were far from it. Instead, I felt more exhausted than I've ever been. I felt lethargic and depressed as I drowned in a sea of boredom, restlessness, and lack of productivity. I know this seems drastic, but I'm serious when I say there were days I paced throughout my house convinced I would go crazy. 

You have to understand: I used to be so busy I nearly had to schedule time to breathe, and I enjoyed it. (Somehow knowing your time is limited pushes you to make every second count). Finding myself in the completely opposite scenario felt suffocating. 

Many days I'd cry out to God in desperation, asking Him what I was supposed to do. I hated being so idle, but I felt unable to reach out for any of the things I occupied myself with before. 

I'd ask, "God, what am I supposed to do?" His response was always the same.

"Rest." 

"Rest? Look at my life ... I thought I was resting." At first I was confused because I had believed if I stopped "doing" all the time I'd find rest. Quickly my confusion became frustration, however, as I realized I had stopped doing all the time and God was still saying I wasn't resting. 

"God, I don't understand! What more do you want from me? Do you want me to literally sit there and do nothing? You know I can't do that without going crazy!"

This tension in my life only grew stronger as I continued to think God wanted me to be so still I would start gathering dust. My heart revolted at the thought. I didn't understand any of it- I only knew any time I tried to do what I thought was rest, I walked away exhausted and desperate for my old, busy life. I began to wonder if I was even capable of resting, and why God would ask of me something that seemed to contradict my very nature.

One day my emotions erupted, and I shouted through my confusion, "Why would you make me like this?!"

The question hung heavily in the air and I began to cry as it stared me in the face.

"God, I can't do what you're asking of me. I've tried and I just can't. To be frank, I simply don't want to try anymore. Why would you make me like this if that's what you wanted from me?"

Then, as clearly as ever, He said to me, "Mary, that's not what I want from you."

"Wait, it's not? But God, I thought you wanted me to rest."

"I do."

"But then ...?"

"I'm not trying to change you- I love the way I've made you." I didn't yet understand, but such a response was so sweet I let it play in my head like a song before I asked Him the next question.

"So, how am I supposed to rest, then? What does it look like?" 

God then went on to explain that rest doesn't come from having a contentedness to do nothing, but from being content in His presence. 

"I don't merely want you to rest," He said. "I want you to rest in Me." 

He told me of how rest is all about being with Him. It's coming to the Father, the source of Life, the Good Shepherd, and being with Him and being filled by Him. 

I was missing it when I was intentionally trying to be filled by letting things go- what I really needed was to hang on, hang on to the One in whom my rest is found. God spoke to me how I could spend time with Him and delight in His presence, and I'd be filled without even really knowing it was happening because I'd be too preoccupied with the joy of my Lord. 

"Ok, so you just want to hangout, huh God? Well, I think I'd like that." 

This revelation led into one of the sweetest times with the Lord. I say the sweetest, but maybe I mean the most fun. It was SO fun! He and I talked, we laughed, and we joked around like two friends would. I felt like a child; a care-free, lighthearted child. He spoke into my heart deeply in one moment, and had me giggling out loud with joy in the next. 

When this time together was nearly over, I sat down in awe at what I had just experienced. 

"Oh my goodness," I thought. "I feel ..."

"Rested? Satisfied? Full of joy?"

"... Yes, actually. I do!" 

Though I know my understanding of rest is still so very small, and I'm sure there are many different avenues to cover, God graciously opened my eyes to a piece of what it looks like to find my rest in Him. I experienced how the joy and adoration of the Lord can truly bring restoration and peace to my soul. This, yes this, I believe, is rest: to enjoy God, to love God, to be with Him enjoying and loving Him. It is only in His presence where I will find my rest.

Oh, do you want to know the coolest part? God had been speaking this to me for weeks but I hadn't realized it. The same day this occurred, I finished reading a chapter about prayer-filled living through which He was whispering all of this to me, and it said, "What is the prayer-filled life? It is a life that seeks to enjoy the presence of God and to adore Him. Why should we seek it? Because from it we find the divine rest that overcomes our alienation." 

As if my experience earlier that day wasn't enough, the book was further confirmation. Divine rest comes from enjoying Him! Rest isn't about doing nothing, but slowing down enough to simply delight in Him. 

God's Love Language: Obedience

I once heard it said that obedience is God's love language. Now, I don't know if that's true, but it struck me then and it strikes me now. It could be, after all, couldn't it? Jesus says if we love Him we will keep His commandments, right?

I've been thinking about what it looks like to be obedient a lot lately, and what that practically means in life. I've been thinking it's not so much about following rules like the Ten Commandments (though that is obviously obedience as well), but more about trust in God. I think a life of obedience to God must always be preceded by a foundation of trust- if you don't trust Him, it's likely you won't obey Him. 

Trust will lead to obedience, and obedience will lead to deeper trust. 

I was impacted by all of this the other day when I was reading a part of Elijah's story in 1 Kings.

"Now Elijah the Tishbite, of Tishbe in Gilead, said to Ahab, “As the Lord, the God of Israel, lives, before whom I stand, there shall be neither dew nor rain these years, except by my word.” And the word of the Lord came to him: “Depart from here and turn eastward and hide yourself by the brook Cherith, which is east of the Jordan. You shall drink from the brook, and I have commanded the ravens to feed you there.” So he went and did according to the word of the Lord... (‭1 Kings‬ ‭17‬:‭1-5‬a)

When I read this I was stunned as I thought, "Ravens? RAVENS? That's not exactly the assurance I'd want from God, that birds are going to supply my meals." I sat there imagining what my response would've been had I been in Elijah's position. Would I have obeyed? I'd like to say yes, but to be honest, I think I would've been too skeptical and have convinced myself I wasn't hearing God correctly. 

I imagine it would require an immense amount of trust in God to willingly rely on birds for your food. Elijah must've had that trust, because he obeyed what God had instructed. Not only this, but he obeyed without defiance or grumbling- true obedience doesn't contain such mental rebellion anyway. There didn't seem to be any of that, but instead there was a humble, trusting act of obedience: he went. 

Trust will lead to obedience and, just as in Elijah's case, provide God with the opportunity to display how trustworthy He is. Thus, obedience will lead to deeper trust.

This kind of faith-filled obedience doesn't contain stipulations or yield only when things make sense. It is unconditional and meek; wholly dependent on the faithfulness of God. 

I wonder to myself if I have within me this kind of obedience, and I assure myself I must. I heard God tell me to do another year at my discipleship school, and I'll obviously submit to that. I mean, it's GOD. Of course I'd obey Him. That's what I tell myself, anyway, that I'd be unconditionally obedient, but I suppose such an example isn't difficult to adhere to. 

It's much easier to obey God when what He is asking of you is simple or enjoyable, but what about when it's not? This question pierced me when I thought of it in regards to one of the deepest desires of my heart: mission work. What if God asked me to give that up or redefine it in a way I wasn't happy with?

"What if God calls you to a place that you would rather die than go to? What if God sends you somewhere abhorrent to you so that every fiber in your being revolts against the very thought of it?" -Living Water, Brother Yun

What if? What would I do? To be honest, the idea of such doesn't exactly make me jump out of my seat with a readiness to obey. This question makes me hesitate. 

You see, sometimes I still subconsciously think that if I'm a "good girl" God will just give me what I want. Somehow I've convinced myself that obedience to God concerning missions will be easy because doing mission work is in my heart. But what if God doesn't call me to the places I've always wanted to go? What if He doesn't call me to go, but instead to stay? What if my mission field was the very last city in the very last country I'd want to be in?

What if obedience meant doing the exact things and going to the exact places I never wanted?

It was when I asked myself these questions I realized trust in God is vital if obedience to Him is ever to manifest in our lives. Trust- it is all about trust.

It is trust in God that not only enables us to obey Him, but to do so with a light and joyful heart. When we wholeheartedly trust God, it creates in us a faith that will follow Him at all costs.

As the end of my first discipleship school year nears, I can see how trust in God will be the only thing to give us strength when He is asking something difficult or frightening of us. Why? Because the "what ifs" have become reality, and God is asking of me something I don't want to give.

In just one month, the offseason will begin- a time of four months between each school year- and I have been looking forward to going back home to Michigan for this season. My heart was desperately excited to once again be working and be amongst my family, my church, my friends, and my favorite season of the year (a beautiful Michigan Autumn, of course). I hadn't felt God's peace about this for months, however, and I knew what He was saying to me; that didn't stop me from avoiding it for those months. 

One night I finally approached God about it through tears and asked (though I partly knew the answer already) if He wanted me to stay in California during the offseason. The only thing I heard in response was a firm, "Yes." Nothing more, nothing less.

"Ok," I whispered. "I'll stay." 

I would be lying if I said there wasn't a sadness in my heart, but I'd also be lying if I said there wasn't a deep peace- a peace that comes from trust in the Lord. It is trust in Him alone that can bring peace amidst this, because trust says that God knows what is best. Its trust that says God will be enough wherever I am and wherever I go. Its trust that says God's presence will bring more joy than anything else I may have wanted. It's trust. And when you trust God enough to give a "yes", He will always come through and give you so much more. 

I am afraid and saddened, of course, but obedience isn't about a lack of fear, sadness, confusion, or hesitancy anyway. This is what I've been trying to tell you: obedience is about trust. 

Trust will lead to obedience, and obedience will lead to a deeper trust. 

It's trust in God that allows us the strength to give the "yes" when we want to give a "no." It's trust in God that allowed Elijah to follow God's word to the brook of water, and it's trust in God that will lead us into the same kind of obedience- an unconditional, meek obedience wholly dependent on the faithfulness of God. 

The Pit of Anorexia, and the God Who Pulls Me Out

I can still remember what they would tell me:

“You've got to realize that your body doesn't matter.

“You ought to be loved for what’s on the inside.”

“The right man won’t care about your body.”

These people loved me, I know, and I’m certain they were genuine in their desire to help me. Yet here I am years later- still struggling, still broken, still hurting- and I feel as if I've actually been more wounded through these words than healed. As I reflect on the thoughts of those who, with good intentions, wanted to guide me through the healing of anorexia, I wonder how such statements were supposed to help. They were all about the supposed irrelevance of my physical appearance, suggesting that once I realized no one cared about my body, I would be free to also not care about my body.

I was fed this idea that no one noticed my appearance (nor did they care), and if somehow I could get myself to believe that, I would be free. I remember how hard I tried. Desperate for freedom, I tried to convince myself that my physique went unnoticed and that appearance didn't matter.

I also remember how I never could; I always failed because it’s just not true. The world won’t let you forget that looks matters.

I couldn't avoid it no matter what I did. In fact, the more I tried to avoid this the more I felt the world shoved it in my face; each time I felt as if I’d been sucker-punched. I had based my journey of healing on the belief that appearance didn't matter, and when any instance suggested otherwise, my heart collapsed. It didn't have to be grand things, either- some of the smallest moments caused the biggest rifts and the deepest pain.

To tell someone with an eating disorder that appearance doesn't matter is to simply swap one lie for another. Looks do matter (I think we’d be fooling ourselves if we were to say they absolutely don’t), but my issue wasn't that I needed to believe otherwise. In actuality, my brokenness manifested when I believed that looks were everything.

The lie in my mind wasn't that appearance mattered- it was that nothing else did.   

I was convinced that looks were everything, and I say that without exaggeration. I had no belief in a love that could look past my appearance, and I was certain that my rejection or lack thereof was directly related to my body. If someone told me they loved me on a “skinny day,” I was more prone to believe them because I’d think, “Of course they do: I’m skinny today.” If someone told me they loved me on a “fat day,” I’d hardly believe them after assuming, “No one could love me like this.”

It was all about my body. If my boyfriend told me I was beautiful, I thought he was talking about my body. If a man even spoke to me, I assumed he wanted something from me sexually. If a woman didn't like me, I figured it was because she was either intimidated or disgusted by my appearance. How ironic it is that such a deep insecurity wasn't always evidenced by such, but instead oftentimes by pride. (Sometimes we may think we’re too insecure to possibly be prideful, but our insecurity is actually what makes us so).

What I described is a picture of what it looked like for me at my darkest hour, and though I've grown greatly in certain areas of my life and heart concerning my disorder, I’m still struggling in that pit. (It’s a tough one to get out of, let me tell you). Thankfully, I have a God who is determined to bring me out of it, and He has been setting me straight on a few things. He has spoken truth, actual truth, to me about myself and my body, and it has healed me more than any words I've heard before on my journey.

The first piece of truth is that appearance does matter, but not in the way I think it does. The human body is a beautiful thing, but God made it to be! Should I be angry at what He created? The thing is that I don’t understand its beauty. The human body is complex and unique, thus worthy of admiration. Just as God made a flower to be pleasing to the eye, He has made our bodies as well- our bodies are beautiful simply because He made them so.

“There are also heavenly bodies and there are earthly bodies; but the splendor of the heavenly bodies is one kind, and the splendor of the earthly bodies is another. The sun has one kind of splendor, the moon another and the stars another; and star differs from star in splendor.” 1 Corinthians 15:40-41

When God shared this with me I still felt some anxiety about the explanation (and I do still simply writing it out), but then God challenged my way of thinking and brought more light into this truth.

One morning I was spending time with the Lord, and I heard Him tell me I am beautiful and that He loved everything about me. I smiled, said thanks, and then quickly began thinking about how I’d lost weight recently. No different than when anyone else told me I am beautiful, I associated it with one thing: my appearance. Immediately God corrected me and said, “Don’t you know when I say I love every single part of you, I’m not talking about your body?”  

I was taken aback by that, especially considering the truth He had recently shared with me about the beauty and awe of a human body. I questioned Him on it, and He responded, “Yes I made it and yes it’s lovely, but when I say I love you I’m talking about you. What you don’t understand is that your body is just a necessary vessel for this earth- in heaven you will no longer have this same body, and yet you won’t be any less you.”

As He said that, I got a picture of a type of gift box, like one you would see on Christmas morning. It was the perfect analogy for me to see that, yes, there is pleasure and delight in the shiny wrapping paper and the sparkly bow on top, but truly the treasure is what is inside the box- that is the gift. As I finally began to understand, God concluded by saying, “When I say I love every part of you, I’m talking about your heart, your soul. Those things are you- precious, beautiful you.”

At last I see that there is in fact a love that can look past my appearance (though still acknowledging it’s raw beauty) and it is a deep, unwavering, satisfying love that will never end.  As I allow the depths of this love into my heart, I realize that the only true healing from my disorder can come from God and God alone. No strategy, inspirational quote, or nutritionist could minister to the wounds in my heart the way God can. Only He can restore and rebuild what the world has broken. Even better, He will.

“If there is a natural body, there is also a spiritual body. So it is written: ‘The first man Adam became a living being’; the last Adam, a life-giving spirit. The spiritual did not come first, but the natural, and after that the spiritual. The first man was of the dust of the earth; the second man is of heaven. As was the earthly man, so are those who are of the earth; and as is the heavenly man, so also are those who are of heaven. And just as we have borne the image of the earthly man, so shall we bear the image of the heavenly man.” 1 Corinthians 15:44b-49 (emphasis added).