Band-Aids and Broken Bones

Do you believe in divine intervention? I do. Particularly after attempting to make an Instagram post last night.

I know your thinking now, “girl! Jesus don’t care about your ‘gram!” But you see, I made a commitment to myself and to Him that I would only post things that added value to other’s lives. Though I don’t have a huge following, for those that do follow me, I want to post uplifting, educational, inspiring, wholesome material. And I believe what I was going to say was not what Jesus wanted me to say.

It’s quite selfish actually. I snapped a picture of myself while sporting my new swimsuit and having an insane bicep vein and frankly I just wanted to post it. (Side note: if you just want to post a cute selfie, do it. You’re cute.) But to make it “add value” I regurgitated some information to help others overcome body dysphoria. I went to post it and it continually failed to post, despite having perfect internet connection. After probably 10 or more minutes of trying to get it posted, I gave up and went about my work.

I began to think, maybe, just maybe, I wasn’t saying what needed to be said.

I thought, “well is what I wrote true? Yeah, I guess so. Is it helpful? Sorta. Maybe on a surface level.” Then it his me. It was like putting a bandaid on a compound fracture that broke through skin. Sure, the bandaid would help stop the bleeding, but what about the broken bone; the real source of the problem? Was that being addressed?

With body dysphoria and eating disorders, in my opinion, the issues is deeper than your body or looks. Same with depression, anxiety, addictions, and so much more. I believe what we think is the problem is actually the manifestation of a deeper, core issue.

We don’t have a grasp on our identity or purpose in life.

For me, eating disorders were a way I gained control over something. I needed to feel I had a handle on the direction I was going in life and control over how others viewed me so that maybe I would have value. I didn’t know who I was but I thought that if I fit into a certain size or shape I would then find it and be happy. Though I didn’t know it at the time, my eating disorders and body dysphoria was merely a side effect of a deeper issue.

It’s an issue we all have and try to sort out. We want to know the purpose of our lives. Between our births and our deaths, what are we supposed to do? Who are we supposed to be? Is there purpose? Or is everything just meaningless?

I’m no theologian or preacher or even any sort of a leader, but one thing I am sure of is of my God and the meaning He gives to my life.

Because of Him, I know there’s a purpose for my life. I know that the role I play is far more than just the space between my birth and my death. I have been chosen to be apart of the grand story that is between the when Jesus died on the cross and when He comes back again to bring His church home. And you have been chosen to. How crazy is that!? The God of the universe CHOOSES us! He doesn’t need us, he wants us. He could work everything out perfectly without involving flawed humans. But He desperately loves flawed humans. Because of that, it is in Him we find our identity. In Him we find our purpose.

As a Christian, our identity can be summed up as chosen, forgiven, graced filled children of God. Our purpose in our time between the cross and the coming is to share the grace that has been so freely given to us.

Once we grasp that and hold onto it abandoning all else, I firmly believe that all of the surface wounds will begin to heal themselves. Sure, things will take time. Addictions and perceptions we have done or had for so long don’t generally change overnight. But once we replace our bandaid for a cast on our broken bone, we will see healing results.

And I believe THIS is what God wanted me to say.

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