Hope

*If you are visiting from my devotion at She Seeks, welcome! If you are a regular blog reader, you may want to visit www.sheseeks.org/findtruth to get the whole story first!

I never planned on being admitted to a psychiatric ward... and I never imagined that I would sit facing those white halls on more than one occasion.

Funny how life works- isn't it?

Depression and addiction will do that to you. They lead you down paths you never meant to take, and steer you through doors you never meant to walk through. The lines that you had firmly vowed to never cross become blurry, and the once forbidden path looks like just another road.

And because it is just another road, you begin the journey down it... only to end up at a destination far from the one you intended.

Like I said, I never planned on going from psych ward to psych ward; nevertheless, there is a part of me that is thankful I did. There's something about being in the midst of people so broken down that refreshes the perfectionist in me.

You see, in the psych ward, in rehab, in support groups- you don't have to pretend. You don't have to act like you have it all together because if you did, you wouldn't be sitting in that chair. You don't have to wear the mask because (for once in your life) you know beyond a shadow of a doubt that everyone else in that room has problems too. You don't have to be ashamed of your issues because you know that the woman in the corner talking to the dead shrub has already surpassed yours by galaxies.

As odd as it sounds, it's one of the most normal places on earth because it's the one place people don't pretend.

My friend was not crazy; she was hurting. She was hurting so much on the inside that she purposely created pain on the outside. She desperately wanted to know that someone saw her, and for that one short week, I was the one who looked her way. Even in the midst of my own pain, I knew that all she wanted, all she needed, was to be noticed.

We were so alike. We both were so consumed by the cloak of invisibility that death seemed the only solution.

We were both so deceived.

Sometimes I wonder about my friend. I wonder if she is still alive, or if she finally gave in to the constant hammering of suicide. I wonder if she ever learned that Jesus sees her, just as He saw me. I wonder if she ever discovered the hope that dispels the darkness.

I pray that she did, but the reality of depression and suicide haunt me like shadows in my dreams. Statistics are high. So many young people are choosing to throw away their lives because the pain of dealing with life is just too great. So many young people feel so invisible that death seems like the only option. So many young people take their own lives everyday or live under the grasp of depression because they never experience the reality of a God who loves them.

If they truly knew that God, in all His might and authority, saw them, in all their humanness and muck, things might be different. Hope might be taken hold of, and lives might be changed. If they truly understood that Jesus died to give them life and Christianity is not just another dead religion, they might have a chance. They might put down the pills, throw away the destruction, and finally learn what it means to live.

That's what keeps me going: Knowing that God loved me enough to die for me and saw me in the midst of my struggle. That's what keeps me sharing my story, hoping that someone will finally "get it" and embrace the hope God offers.

That's what this week is all about: hope. Hope in a new purpose. Hope in a new life. Hope in the One who came to die for us who had no hope to live for. Without Jesus, I would be just another statistic. Because of Jesus, I am here today telling you that there is hope in this life.

You were never invisible to the eyes of God. In fact, He considered you precious enough to not only see you through your pain, but He also sent His sinless Son to die for it too.

Now that's something to live for.

Let's Be Honest...

This is my "pre-conference" blog. You know, the one where I am supposed to write and tell you that I am totally confident that God is going to use my words for His glory. That I am not the least bit nervous to stand up and speak in front of a room full of girls and moms. That I am not ashamed of where I've been and have no problem with the fact that people now know.

Yeah-  if you're looking for that blog, you've come to the wrong place.

Right now, I am just praying that I speak in coherent sentences. That is, when I'm not thinking about the fact that everyone now knows I had an eating disorder. If there was any doubt in anyone's mind, it's printed in small black letters in the Breakout Topic section.

Eating Disorders... Alexis Sommer

As I stood in the auditorium tonight, I realized just how uncomfortable I am with people knowing my past. Odd, right? I mean, I write a blog about eating disorders. I intern with an eating disorder organization. I'm pretty open with sharing my testimony. But standing in front of someone knowing that they know your past?

Unsettling... because they can just slap a label on you and walk away.

It's the label that bothers me; I hate being labeled. I can't stand the look someone gives you when they assume they have you all figured out. I can't stand the box that the word "eating disorder" puts me in.

Why?

Because that's not my life now. I'm not who I was. I have come so far and, although I still have so far to go, my eating disorder no longer defines me. I love the freedom of that, and when I see the label try to creep back into my life, I panic.

As in "I wonder if anyone will notice if I don't show up" kind of panic.

{Yes- I am known for my rational thinking}

Then it hit me: God loves overcoming labels. I mean, look at Moses. When God called him to go speak to Pharaoh, Moses complained about his inexperience in public speaking. Instead of walking up to Pharaoh's throne, he slapped the "I'm a Horrible Speaker" label onto his schnazzy new coat. He did not expect to be used by God, and I bet the people around him did not expect it either. I mean, he was clearly labeled inadequate for the job.

God though... He has a thing for labels.

Apparently He takes great delight in stumping the onlookers. He likes to color outside the lines, think outside the box, and leave the name tag blank, free of any restrictions.

So yes, I once had the word "Eating Disorder" scrawled across my forehead for the world to see. Some people still see it when they look at me. Some people still judge me for wearing that label. Some people will never forget.

That doesn't bother me tonight, though. For tonight I can rest in the truth that I am no longer defined by the two words that once tried to destroy my life.

Tonight I am defined by the One who saved it.

Where's God When I Doubt?

I have a friend named Thomas, and we have everything in common.

Except for the fact that he's a guy, centuries old, and- oh yeah- dead.

Other than that, we're practically twins... doubting twins, that is.

Thomas doubted Jesus's appearance after the crucifixion. Jesus was, after all, dead. Dead men don't rise and walk. Dead men don't talk. And dead men definitely don't walk through locked doors.

And yet, there stood Jesus in all His heavenly-resurrected glory.

Thomas still didn't buy it. He asked for proof. As in scarred hands and peephole sides.

Jesus obliged, but not without the admonition to "stop doubting and believe" (John 20:27).

And believe Thomas did... right after he touched the proof for himself. As he touched the days old scarring on Jesus's hands, he remembered the cross. He remembered the gruesome crucifixion and the horrifying death of his Lord. As his hand slipped into Jesus's pierced side, his doubt gave way to the tidal wave of belief.

Jesus was who He said He was.

My life has been riddled with Thomas's influence. I doubt God at every major intersection. In high school I doubted His existence. I doubted His love, His sovereignty, His wisdom, His judgement... I even doubted His character. I didn't believe what the Bible said, what my family said, or even what my gut said. I rebelled against all promising words with the self-assuring voice of doubt.

Doubt, after all, wouldn't let me down. Doubt would never leave me disappointed, forsaken, or forgotten. Faith, on the other hand, had the potential to wreak havoc on my life. When crisis came, it was easier to doubt than have faith. Why risk hope only to be disappointed? Why believe in God when everything around you seems to disprove His existence? Why believe in His love when no one around will love you? Why believe in a God who seems to be so distant, so demanding, and so imaginary?

These are the questions doubt raises in defense against faith. It attacks the very person of God. Doubt isn't just disbelief over a couple hundred miracle fishes; doubt is the fear that God is not who He says He is.

When you don't believe God is who He says He is, the foundation of your world crumbles. Your thoughts, once so rational, are now described as being of the irrational variety. Your emotions, once so stable, now fluctuate like the stormy seas in the middle of a hurricane. You complain about life. You burrow within yourself... and you lash out against everything God says He is.

After all, you ask, what good is it to believe God when nothing seems to be going according to His word? What if His so-called promises took a detour? What if I've been waiting for the proof for years? Why should I hope, why should I trust, why should I believe... and then be disappointed in the end?

All good questions that I've asked myself time and time again (remember- I'm a doubter).

I can't answer for God. Only He can tell you why your "hopes" seem to always come crashing down to a Wiley Coyote boom. Only He can assure you of His presence in that dark night. Only He can arm-wrestle your doubts and show you why faith always wins. Only He can convince you of who He is.

When I moved out here to Colorado, I expected big things. I expected God to feel nearer than ever because I was walking in His will. I expected Him to move the mountain of employment for me and to blow my socks off with a super fantabulous job. I expected a lot of things and ended up with the few things not included on my list of expectations.

To put it mildly, I started doubting. Big time.

If God won't even do the small things like find me a job I actually like, then why should I trust Him for the big things? Why should I trust that He loves me? Why should I trust that He will protect me? Why should I trust in His plan when my plan seems so much better?

And so the doubts began.

They drilled deep, and each vibration of the drill refocused my attention on my God-sized disappointment. The drill chipped away at His character until all I saw was another fallen man trying to make promises He couldn't keep.

I couldn't handle it.

I couldn't handle the doubts raised in my mind, so instead of voicing them, I stuffed them. I pretended that they weren't there. I dressed them up in the dress clothes of faith and walked through each day, consciously aware of the swish-swish of the fabric hiding my pain.

It wasn't until recently that I figured out my problem. God was not the issue; I was. Somewhere along the way I confused "who God says He is" with "who I say God is". Somewhere along the journey from faith to doubt, I lost sight of the truth: God doesn't play by my rules.

He sees things I don't even see. When I complain that He's "breaking His promises once again", He sees the promise-fulfilled- over the horizon. When I worry that He's abandoned me forever, He positions His love in the silence of the dark. When I lash out because of my circumstances, He stands strong because He knows the plans. He's not a genie-in-a-bottle god; He's God.

He can handle my anger. He can handle my disappointment. He can handle my frustrations. He can handle my doubt.

In fact, sometimes I think He cherishes my moments of complete insanity because it's in those moments that He can lift up my hands and let me touch His side for myself.

In those moments, I know God is who He says He is. It doesn't matter what doubt whispers in my ear; I know beyond it's shadow that He's got me in His hands, waiting to catch me once again.

Gotta Keep My Pants From Falling Down

I haven't worn a belt since middle school. And I've gotta say, I never planned on wearing one again... school uniforms will do that to you.

Yesterday, however, I needed a belt. And- of course- I didn't have one.

Go figure.

It really wouldn't have been a big deal... except for the fact that it was Day One of my new job. I had everything else, but I apparently missed the memo of the belt. And- having a personality such as mine- this turned into a very big deal.

I have to admit, though, this is not the first time I've found myself "belt-less". Oh- I've been caught "belt-less" LOTS of times... like daily.

And I'm not just talking about the ones that go through your jeans (although I never wear those either).

Ephesians 6:14 has some interesting insights about belts. According to this verse, one of the ways we stand firm against temptation (and that little bugger who brings it into our lives) is to put on the "belt of truth".

Yes- the belt. Apparently I did not receive the memo that Bibles come with belts now days. That would have been helpful to know the other day.

Anywho.

I find it interesting that of all the pieces of armor truth could be- it is a belt. I mean- what does a belt even do besides sit on your waist and look pretty?

It holds up your pants, which may or may not seem like a big deal, but trust me- it is.

You see, it would be horribly embarrassing to lose your pants. Belts prevent that problem by holding them up and tightening them in.

Truth works in the same way.

When my thoughts are going haywire, God's truth cinches them back in. When my standards or convictions get loose, His truth keeps them up.

The fact that truth is a belt makes perfect sense.

When I am wearing the belt of truth, I can stand firm in my struggles against temptation and self-doubt. When I forget my belt, my pants fall down.

Sin creeps in.

Lies camp out.

Embarrassment reigns.

... It's really not a pretty picture.

I'm learning that truth is not something you flippantly refer to in your time of need. It's not something to embrace one minute and discard the next. It is a vital part of your everyday life.

Without truth, chaos reigns. Lies set up their royal thrones and demand center stage. Vision is clouded with demands of "Me! Me! Me!". Sine steals the royal robe and leaves you with the drab potato sack garment, taking away any sense of worth.

In a word, all is let "loose".

By now, you probably get the concept, and you're probably tired of me talking to you about how clothes and God mix. I know how frustrating it is to hear this "Christian" talk and have no idea how to apply it to your life.

So.

I'm going to give you some practical examples from my own life throughout the next couple of posts. Enjoy my completely irrational thoughts :)

Scenario 1: I walk into a room full of people my age and assume I'll make some friends (Ok- I really just assume ONE person will come up to talk to me). No one says a word to me. I strategically place myself near a large group of girls, but still no friendly greeting. Just stares and lots of silence.

My Thoughts: (which, by the way, would be the "lie") "Something must be wrong with me. Have I been gaining weight? Am I too quiet? Would they talk to me if I were prettier? Nicer? Funnier?"

My Actions: Because of this one incident, I started walking with my head down, eyes to the ground. I didn't want to look at people because I knew I wasn't "pretty". My thoughts became more and more focused on my weight and imperfections, and I quickly sunk into a pit of yucky self-doubting muck .

It was so not fun.

Truth: Ok, let's start with the most obvious lie: "I'm ugly."

Nowhere in the Bible does it say: "And Alexis was very unattractive and God said, "It is good."; therefore, I cannot claim this as my truth. What God does say is this: "God saw all that He had made, and it was very good." (Genesis 1:31)

He looked at ALL of creation and said this. (Meaning it includes you and me)

God does not create junk. He creates all things in their own beauty. He creates all things with their own purpose. He created you, as Psalm 139 says, "fearfully and wonderfully".

Meaning there is nothing wrong with the way you look.

I know how easy it is to believe this lie. I'd be lying if I said it wasn't the most prominent lie in my book.

But here's truth: it's a lie. When you are in an uncomfortable situation, cling to the truth.

It was easy for me to believe that no one was talking to me because I was ugly; it was harder for me to believe that their choice to ignore me most likely had nothing to do with me. It doesn't matter what I look like, how quiet I am, or my friendliness toward new people.

Most likely, none of those even mattered.

The best I can do is be myself in those situations, acknowledge the anxiety and disappointment, and move on to another situation. Life is too short to let an hour disturbance impact the weeks to follow.

I know I am not the only one who walks into awkward situations. I know I'm not the only one who (at times) feels like an outsider in the midst of groups.

So I'm here to encourage you to buckle on the belt of truth in those situations.

No one wants to see your pants on the ground.