All Wet

Day 20

Days to go: 345

Miles Walked: 24

Miles to go: 976

I am wet behind the ears.  Well, I’m not anymore, but I was.  In fact, I was wet all over.

I walked in the rain yesterday.   It had been raining all day, but it let up and finally slowed to a light drizzle/mist that I thought I could probably withstand.  I set out on my two miles.  A little over halfway through, it became a light-but-still-full-fledged rain again.  By the time I returned home, I looked like a wet puppy.

I know I am painting it to sound like I was such a martyr.  Is it working? 

I’ll come clean.  I am not a martyr at all, and this was no real sacrifice. In fact, it was kind of nice.  It was a pleasant rain – no pesky thunder and lightning around to invoke any fear – just an amiable, soft shower. 

This was a new experience for me.  The only time I ever walked in the rain was when I was hurrying to escape it.  I have never hung out in it and with it before. I found a comforting solitude there.  It felt as if the entire world huddled away under cover while I was out soaking up drops from heaven. In that water-logged state, my time with Jesus felt especially intimate.

I told Him how I’ve been having a hard time these past couple of days with the food addiction thing.

I have stated here that Jesus is more than enough, and He is. He satisfies. He really does.  I am experiencing the truth of that as I move in and out of every day.  But the satisfaction I’m finding in Him is new and different. I have to admit, I still miss the binges.

I am seldom hungry these days, and when I get hungry, I eat. When I reach a point where I am no longer hungry,  I am learning to stop. That is the agreement between the Lord and me during this journey. But I am never full – never really stuffed.  I used to eat every meal as though it were my last, eating way past full at least 3 or 4 times a day.  That way-too-full feeling that might have made someone else sick was a comfort to me.  In its absence, some emotional buttons are being pushed.

As I talked to the Lord about it, I came to the realization that I am a control freak.  The food binges were a way that I could secure pleasure and comfort for myself, and it was all at my fingertips.  I did not have to admit to having any need. I was able to avoid the abyss of loneliness, pain, shame and rejection I’ve carried for a long time by indulging in my food fits, and it was all up to me.  I could fix everything that way, at least for a moment.

Jesus satisfies…but the satisfaction is different.  It is far better, in fact.  I used to fill my stomach.  He is filling my heart and mind and spirit.  Still, in reaching out to Him, I am coming face to face with the gaping hole of my need over and over again throughout the day. Where I anesthetized the ache and filled that desolate place with food before, it is now expressing its angst in a constant “yelp” that seems to rise from somewhere deep in my heart.  The good news is, Jesus has been very present in the face of my need. I am coming to know Him in a brand new way because of it. It’s just that His help doesn’t feel as tangible or familiar as the comfort I secured from food.

If I sound like I am missing my captivity, maybe that is because my divided heart does have its moments of confusion. It reminds me of Stockholm Syndrome, the psychological condition sometimes seen in abducted hostages that drives the victim to feel some loyalty to the hostage-taker, in spite of the danger and risk that person has been to them. Food has held me hostage since I was a teenager, and my long-deceived heart misses it now and then. Maybe even more than now and then.

Jesus, change my heart.  Take away this whisper of longing that beckons me to return to captivity.  Please, Jesus.  Rescue me from myself. 

 You have saved me.

 You are saving me.  

 Save me again.