God's Dwelling Place....YOU

WOW! Who knew a workout could change my recovery (for the better that is). I mean I guess I shouldn’t be surprised. God has spoken to me through movement before…why wouldn’t He again?

My latest workout reading has been “Love to Eat, Hate to Eat” and it really is a great book about our relationship with food and our body in a way that is pleasing to God. It’s not the best book I have ever read, but it has good points. And one of those points hit me square in the face today.

We are God’s dwelling place.

I’ve heard the verses before. Verses like Ephesians 2:22

“And in Him you too are being built together to become a dwelling in which God lives by hHs Spirit.”

But when I have heard these or thought about them it has always more been about how close I am to God and the power He puts in me. But never about how I treat my body. But this book framed it different.

You see God lives in us. Stop. Think a moment. Don’t just gloss over that. The living God. The Holy One. The Creator of the universe dwells in you. He makes your body His home. Where His Spirit resides. As 1 Corinthians 3:16 puts it 

“Do you not know that you are God’s temple and that God’s Spirit dwells in you?”

Our bodies are His home. His dwelling place. Some recent issues in my living situation and going home this weekend showed me just how much our dwelling place can mean to us. We decorate our homes, clean our homes, fill our homes with love so we can have sanctuary and peace. This is something we feel we deserve and have the right to. A place called home. And so does God. And the his Adress is 101 You. Right in you. In your body.

I don’t know about you, but that changes things for me. My recovery and being good to my body takes on a whole new meaning. Like a mother who becomes pregnant and begins caring for her health more because of the unborn child inside of her….this realization has made me want to take care of my body because of God in me.

Any time I tear my body down by denying hunger because I don’t feel it’s the right time to eat. Or choosing a safe meal when I am craving something else. Or skimping portions. Or going to the gym longer than I said I would. Or even simply not getting enough sleep. I am hurting my body. And honestly, before today I didn’t really care about that. It’s not that I want to hurt my body…but to me it just wasn’t that important. 

And I now my non-ED readers may struggle with this too. Getting caught up in life and not caring as much about our body. Not getting sleep. Not going to the gym when we should. Not taking time to de-stress. Not going to the doctor when we should. It's easy to slip into the non-chalant attitude towards our body. 

But now I realize doing those things...things that hurt our body. Pushing our bodies to the limit or not nourishing them as we should. It would be just like walking into a church or walking up to God while He is sitting in His rocking chair on his porch and tearing down the wallpaper. Or writing on the walls with sharpie. Heck it’s like taking a match to His home. Because I am injuring His dwelling place. I am wrecking the place He calls home.

Now before you go walk off in shame and guilt and let beat yourself up for unhealthy behaviors...stop (because that stinking thinking doesn't help anyone). This realization means something else to. This means each and every moment you choose to eat. Or to get enough sleep. Or to feed your craving. Or to choose the fear food. Or take a rest day. Or just do the amount of exercise you agreed to. Or to not purge or binge if that’s something you struggle with. 

Or for my non-ED readers when you choose to go the gym. Or do what your doctor said. Or go to bed early instead of staying up to watch Hosewives of whatever city they are in now. Heck even when you remember to floss or brush your teeth. You are building up God’s dwelling place.  Putting up a new portrait. Bringing in the new décor from Pier One. Painting the walls real nice. You are making His house a home. And I don’t know about you, but I want to do that for God. Especially now when I can’t do that for my own home.

I don’t know. Maybe to you this isn’t revolutionary, but to me it is. It changes everything. My

recovery takes on a different meaning and when ED is yelling at me that I don’t deserve that fear food or a day off or x,y,z…or that it doesn’t matter…I can tell him it matters because I am building and protecting the dwelling place of God. I’ve beaten it up enough and it’s time for Extreme Makeover: God’s Dwelling Place edition. It makes me realize even moreso why each and every recovery decision I make makes me feel so good. Because I am building up the dwelling place of the Spirit and as He smiles at my decorating skills…I too am filled with joy.

I don’t know about you, but I am ready to keep making the scary decisions as I have been (sorry haven’t updated but I am challenging some big food rituals and little portion descrepancies and major fear foods in a  three-week challenge to get to the “normal”….we more “normal” eating I desire).  And to do so with joy and excitement knowing I am building up God’s house and making my body a pleasant place to stay for the Spirit. Providing Him the home He deserves. And hey…this home makeover comes without the need for a single power tool or dollar bill. Just the power of Christ in you and the commitment to make the right choice.

So when ED is screaming or you are torn between two decision, just picture God’s house and go with which decision you think betters His dwelling place: you. And pick your head up, pull your shoulders back, because you, beautiful, are the dwelling place of the Most High. And don’t worry. We all struggle. We all make decisions that aren’t the best or lose our way. But the great thing about God is He is forgiving and the great thing about dwelling places is they can be rebuilt. You just make the next right decision….because even if you put up the wrong paint, your next right decision can put up a new coat of paint. You have the power and you can do it.

Turning the Tables on ED

 Writing this out of frustration at myself, at ED, at everything. So tonight went and did only 35 minutes on Stairmaster and didn’t add more even when ED screaming. Now, before you applaud me, it was honestly because I had decided I really felt like doing yoga because I missed it so much and hadn’t done it since my dad passed (long story about connection there). Well…of course ED had to go and ruin what I liked.

When I got back to room, instead of doing the yoga I wanted I did one I thought would be more “intense” (I see now this was ED translation of burn more calories). Well…it wasn’t more intense, it was boring, and I hated every moment of it. So I ended up miserable and with ED calling my lazy and telling me I needed to workout more.

Well, I didn’t have time and knew I shouldn’t. Here I had proven everyone right. Everyone who said I shouldn’t do yoga because ED would twist it…and he did. And I had already planned on a fear food and didn’t feel justified in doing it but did it anyway and all the while ED was yelling. And you know why…because I cracked open the door and let him in when I chose the ED-driven yoga, instead of joy-driven one.

Normally I would react to this ED yelling by getting pissed at myself,  saying screw it to recovery, and playing it safe rest of day. But not tonight. No…tonight I am pissed at ED. I am pissed he stole my joy. I am pissed I constantly play into his games convinced it will bring joy or be good enough, or please the ED side of me. And it never does. There is nothing I can do tonight to make ED appeased or quieter. I opened the door to him and he is taking full advantage, because I’ve done so well lately of keeping him at bay.

So yell ED. Kick, scream, call me disgusting….I freaking don’t care tonight. I am not working out more because it won’t be enough. I’m not eating safe, because you will still continue to beat me up about earlier challenge. No…tonight I am going to do anything and everything to piss you off. I am going to eat my challenges and stick my middle finger up at you. You stole my joy of my yoga. You stole time with my father. You steal everything. Now it is time for the tables to turn and for some harm to be done to you. So tonight…I am stealing your control and you will kick and scream like the puny, pathetic, mongrel you are and I don’t care. If I can put up with real life abusive roomates, I can put up with you incessant yelling. So screw you ED. Watch me take this bite….hope it pisses you off. Because frankly that’s all you deserve.

Losing serverbook, losing my mind

I have spent the past 3 hours looking for a server book I have already replaced. What’s a server book? It’s the little black book you see servers writing in. I had decorated mine and made it all special and it was mine. I had used it my first two serving shifts and after my second one (the one where a lady tipped me 50 dollars so I could get a winter coat), I don’t know what happened to it. I have looked in my car, torn apart my apartment, and looked at work today. It’s nowhere. And how much time I have invested in it is kind of ridiculous when I look at it.

This should be something I could shrug off. But all I’m thinking about is how I might have accidentally thrown in out when I was when one of my stress-induced cleaning phases and (due to exhaustion I will go into in another post), threw it out by mistake. That is causing my brain to explode in a fit of self-criticism I feel will not end until/if I find this dang book. But I honestly think I lost it and that just makes me feel weird.

It’s always bothered me to lose things and I have been known to scour through trash looking for something I may have thrown away. But it’s gotten worse since my dad’s passing and tonight made me reflect on why. You see, I have started to cling to objects as associated with memories, because I feel I don’t have a lot of things to remind me of my dad and that makes me sad. I don’t know…I just somehow have started to cling to things because I feel then I have some control over my memories of people and over loss.

So with this server book I kind of deemed it my connection to the lady who donated to me and to my first serving shift…etc, etc, etc. So losing it I feel like I somehow lost the memory of that. I think I seriously thought I would keep this server book and show it to my kids or something. But if I think about it…I probably would have thrown it away eventually anyway. I guess I am just off-kilter because I feel it wasn’t my choice and that brings me back to the feeling I had when my dad died. Of having something ripped from me and not knowing why.

So I am trying to come to terms with losing my server book and trying to get settled for the night, but I want to keep looking for it…..even though I have seriously re-looked over every inch of my room 5-6 times and my care 3-4 times. It just makes me feel stupid if I really did throw it away. Who knows if I will ever know…and I know one day (hopefully soon), I won’t even think about it. But right now I am just so wound up about it. I was so convinced I would come home and find it and be relieved and that didn’t happen. I should look at this as a good thing, because I can decorate a new book…but right now I just feel off. Any suggestions?

Blog post tomorrow?

I am debating writing a blog post tomorrow on the self-fulfilling insecurities we live by. Basically how ED has us believing so many lies about how others perceive us we actually end up making them come true and reinforce his lies...but I wonder if it's any use to post it or if I should keep it to myself..does anyone read anymore? Please message me or comment below or give some notice you are still out there. I have neglected this blog and it's time for it to come back...but only if it matters to someone...