Reflections on Everyday Life and All Its Glorious Implications

Last night I went to Doylestown to hang out at Main St. Baptist with some of my friends - like I do often. My friends' band was playing, and their parents, who are my youth pastor and his wife, were also there. Some other friends too. We were just chillin, when my youth pastor's wife, Jill, came up to me, gave me a hug, and stated, "You know, I'm so glad we've got the old Liz back."

Jill and me with our friend Alisha on the right three years ago on a mission trip

Now of course she was not talking about my old sinful nature. I've known this woman-after-God's-own-heart for almost four years, and I was about six months old in the Lord when I first met her. A whole lot has happened in those four years of my life, and she's seen the real Liz (bubbly, dancing, hiiiiiohmygoshihavetosharewhatthelordsdoinginmyhearthowcaniprayforyou?, singing and shoutin them praises high, "having a way with those kids" as she would say) as well as the dead one (only comes to youth group occasionally, noidon'thaveanyprayerrequests under her breath, shy and reluctant to do any sort of ministry, looks like she could shatter into a million pieces if you dare touch her). Unfortunately, for the past few months, I've been the latter. But now I am authentic and real, for the first time in like, seven months or something. And can I just say it feels really good.

I'll be blunt here: I binged and purged the other day. I hadn't used any symptoms at all in quite a while (I lost count of the days, but probably at least 15) and I felt like I must have been missing out on something -- after all, when I was so incredibly sick I refused to let go of my eating disorder for even a day because I loved it that much. So I bought in to Satan's lie, said hey, let's just do it for old times' sake, can't hurt anything. Well, false. But that God of mine works in mysterious ways, and He even uses our sin to teach us things (crazy, right?). A little graphic here: I only purged a small portion of it, because shortly after I began I thought, seriously? That's what I was living for? This is uncomfortable, and pointless. Excuse me but, um... I've got better things to do. It's funny how God just took away all memories of what it was really like, when just three months ago I was doing it 3+ times a day, it was my entire life. Maybe for a reason I need not tamper with too much.

Sometimes producing fruit in repentance proves difficult and wearisome. But it is so worth it.

Allie's and my victory hug after dominating at the Melting Pot

On a brighter note, last night I started sign interpreting songs again. A girl was doing it in worship and it brought me right back to when I used to do it. I missed it. So naturally I stayed up till 5 am refreshing my memory. And was consequently ten minutes late for my Sunday school class at church this morning. Awesome. Anyway, once I get this webcam I'm hoping somebody will sell me I might take some videos and put them up for your own personal encouragement and/or devotion.

Good ol' Pastor John gave us the Word this morning, and his message was convicting at best, horrifying at worst. In other words, awesomely thought-provoking. It was on Luke 14:25-34, and well, let's say I'll let you read that one for yourself (with the disclaimer that I realize this passage provokes a lot of heresy, but I can assure you that was not of this sermon -- I'll put it up once they upload it on the website). But let's reflect for just a moment on verse 27 -- "And anyone who does not carry his cross and follow me cannot be my disciple." Alright Liz, we've all heard that one, what's the point? Well let me provide you with some framework.

Crucifixion was created as the most painful way ever one was thought to die. After the convicted's body was whipped to the guts (yeah, organs spilling out), he was then to carry his large cross on his back to wherever it was he was to die, which more often than not was up a steep and rocky mountain. He was laid systematically on the cross, nailed to it in each of his wrists and his ankles on top of one another. They propped the cross up in the ground, and waited for him to die -- by suffocation. Here's how it worked: with the position he was in, he could not breathe without first pushing himself forward to gasp for air, but that would cause immense pain to every inch of his body, with his wrists and ankles being nailed to a tree and his body being freshly whipped to shreds. He would then exhale, which would cause him to slump down again so he would need to push up for every breath. Most have the impression that this lasted only a few hours, but depending on how long the convicted drew out this process, it could take anywhere up to a week. He had no nutrients but vinegar and his own blood and sweat, and I doubt it was an easy task to sleep. An ever-increasing puddle of sweat, blood, urine and feces lay beneath his feet -- imagine the smell of all those combined. Oh yeah, and he was naked before a crowd mocking him, throwing rocks at him, screaming words of absolute scorn and ridicule. Until he died.

No wonder everyone thought Christ was a radical lunatic... I can't say I wouldn't.

Jesus did that for us, and all He's asking us to do for Him is to carry the cross, a small portion of that entire dreadful ordeal. We best be thinking we should perhaps give back, just a little.

Following Jesus is definitely not for the faint of heart, to say the least. But it is so worth it.

One Sunday a month my good friend and I head into a Doylestown nursing and rehabilitation home to lead worship for a Bible study a dude from our church leads. It is the residents' only church, so we try to make the best of it, and we take solace in the fact that most of them are hard of hearing, since the piano is reeeaaally out of tune and Brynna is not much of a practicer (understatement -- she literally refuses to come up with a line-up anytime before we get to the nursing home -- nope, not even on the way over -- and even if she randomly chooses a song we happen to have never done together, she'll do one verse and then say "alright, we got it"). We do mostly hymn-type stuff, since they're old and sick and I don't think they want our kind of worship. Amazing Grace, always.

This is the kind of nursing home that doesn't just have old people, but also has people who for whatever reasons are severely disabled and can't live on their own. There is a woman living there called Audrey whom we've all taken a particular liking to (not in the sense that we play favorites -- she's just taken the time to get to know us and is very friendly). She's not terribly old, but it's obvious she's got some medical problems, is in a wheelchair and has extremely slurred speech -- most people cannot understand her, if ever on the rare occasion. But she's super sweet, and she loves the Lord. A lot.

This was taken on the day Brynna and I were baptized.

Today we were told she wasn't coming to church because she wasn't feeling well, and that we weren't allowed to visit her. I'm not gonna lie, that scares me a little. I think it affected my partners in ministry as well.

Sometimes it hurts inside to do ministry to our God. But it is so worth it.

My VBS group last year

VBS is this week -- possibly one of the craziest times of the year both in my life and for my church. Our VBS is not quite like any other -- it pretty much shuts down the church and all the volunteers' lives (a good 80% of the congregation, which totals to over 1,000), in a good way. It is the one week we all come together in the glorification of God for one purpose: to reach His sweet little children in mighty ways. And we always do -- through Him, of course. As much I freakin' adore VBS and even more so children (I've been told my love for them shows in my eyes whenever I talk with a precious one), it's super stressful, and I won't get much sleep this week. More and more each year, it is inevitably absolute chaos due to the large number of people and much smaller number of square feet of space -- both inside and outside, in multiple buildings (that makes it sound like the place is huge -- it's really not; it's in a strip mall, and we have four sections of it). There's also just so much to do and so little time and by nature, I always have false anxiety about not reaching the kids. I just need to surrender it to God -- it's not anything I do. It's all Him. That's how so many kids get saved at these things.

Sometimes giving Jesus the honor due Him has me going insane, in tears because He finally gave me some tough love, and way too stressed for my own good. But it is so worth it.

Can you tell I'm a bit weary?

In exactly two weeks, I will be sleeping in my DR bed. Part of me is extensively excited and jittery for this endeavor to get started, and a smaller yet significant part is kind of dreading it. Last year when I went, I had no idea what to expect, and was, well, a little taken back, mentally, physically, emotionally, spiritually. On one hand, I want to remember going into this that it is going to be difficult and I am going to be stretched, but on the other hand, I don't want to expect it to be the exact same thing as last year, because it's simply not the same trip and God is not going to do the exact same things. Mission trips are very flexible times where everyone is stretched, including those we are serving. So I feel a little hesitant to run into Barahona with open arms shouting YAY GOD! because 1) That would make us look even more like americanos locos, and 2) I would trip and fall, flat on my face, straight into the dirty, rotting, rocky mountains.

Sometimes, I'll be honest, I really don't want to serve God. But I know it is so very worth it.

"Rejoice and be glad, because great is your reward in heaven, for in the same way they persecuted the prophets who were before you." ~Matthew 5:12

"However, I consider my life worth nothing to me, if only I may finish the race and complete the task the Lord Jesus has given me—the task of testifying to the gospel of God’s grace." ~Acts 20:24

I have a dream.

In the early 1950's, America was living in a period of deep racial injustice. Integration and equal rights for blacks was unheard of across the nation. Children were brought up to believe that citizens of color were far lesser beings than whites, and most did not question it. Since life in this part of the world had been this way since the Trans-Atlantic Slave Trade, the severe prejudice was not seen as cruel or unusual to the majority of the population. It was the norm of that day, and no one saw a need to do anything about it.

And then Rev. Martin Luther King Jr. came along, and he stirred things up a bit. He, along with Rosa Parks and other colored citizens of Montgomery, Alabama, organized and led the Montgomery Improvement Association and the Montgomery Bus Boycott. He also joined with Charles K. Steele and Fred L. Shuttlesworth in establishing the Southern Christian Leadership Conference, which sought to demolish racial injustice with nonviolence and civil disobedience. As he continually pushed for integration in public schools, repeatedly failed, and was put in jail during anti-segregation protests, he never gave up, refusing to cease his fight for the important cause of civil rights, no matter how hopeless it seemed. Hate crimes against the Negros worsened and increased in frequency, so Dr. King strengthened his political acts and protests that much more.

On August 28, 1963, 200,000 people gathered at the Lincoln Memorial to hear King's famous and forever known "I Have a Dream" speech. The speech sparked both great exultation and disapproving fracas alike towards the man. Five years later, our nation's leader of the civil rights movement was assassinated by James Earl Ray, carrying the hope of freedom among all peoples right along with him to eternal glory.

I love Martin Luther King Jr. very much, and I'm looking forward to meeting him in heaven. He was a man of amazing faith, integrity, perseverance, and courage. I can only imagine what my life would be like today without him, even as a white girl. I would not be permitted to even speak to the girl who is now my best friend, because she is black. My heart would be filled with hatred towards my brothers and sisters of color because I would have been raised to believe that they are worthless. I cannot imagine my mother, a beautiful Christian woman who truly treats each of God's creatures as just that and is strongly against prejudice of any kind, instilling that belief into my mind. But if it were not for my good pal Martin, this would not be my mother's fault or even my grandmother's, but rather the fault of those who began the passing down of that ugly and cruel lie many years ago.

Today I can say without a doubt that Dr. King is happy. Not only is he in the presence of the Lord, but he also has the blessed opportunity to see all of his hard work pay off here on earth. Racism definitely still exists, but when looking back on his renowned speech it is easily agreeable that many of his dreams have been fulfilled or nearly fulfilled. Racial injustice was a battle that many likely thought would never be won, but today I know I live in a country where the sons of former slaves and the sons of former slave owners are able to sit down together at the table of brotherhood, people, for the most part, are not judged by the color of their skin but by the content of their character, and little black boys and black girls are able to join hands with little white boys and white girls as sisters and brothers.

We are living in different times now. Racial injustice is not near as big a problem as it was in the 50's and 60's, but another form of injustice has been on the rise for the past 38 years. Whether we are willing to admit it or not, a vicious genocide is sweeping our nation, and it is called abortion. In 2008 alone, 1.21 million homicides of unborn children were committed in America - that's 3,315 a day, 276 an hour (going on a 12-hour shift), 4 a minute (each time my synchro team skates our program once through, 10 American children have their life stolen) - and not one murderer has been charged or convicted. Planned Parenthood, America's largest abortion chain aka slaughterhouse, currently receives $362.3 million dollars of our tax money each year. There is abundant evidence both scientifically and biblically that a baby is a human being from the moment of conception. But still this continues, rarely mentioned among the mainstream population, stirring heated controversy as to whether or not this crime can be considered health care.

And I woke up this morning worried about my finals.

I recall Dr. King's legacy and am deeply inspired by his boldness, determination, and martyrdom. I learn in history class about the way blacks were treated at this time and I am appalled to hear that millions of human beings were accepting of this discrimination, and would even fight for it. Then I realize that the same thing is going on right now. And I am twice as appalled when I see videos like this one. I think the battle this world is constantly waging is pretty obvious. "And no wonder, for Satan himself masquerades himself as an angel of light (2 Cor. 11:14)." In Dr. King's time, that truth manifested itself as discrimination masquerading itself as a "separate but equal" policy. Now, abortion is masquerading itself as health care, a woman's right to choose what she does with "her" body (Since when have a mother and her child shared the same body?).

I'll touch on the subject of women's rights: I am a woman, and darn proud of it. I believe that I am called to clothe myself with strength and dignity for the very reason that I am a woman. (My favorite woman alive is Gianna Jessen, a strong and dignified activist for women's rights and life.) As a young Christian woman who has never had sex or an unintended pregnancy but understands in full what it's like to be a woman, what it's like to have to make huge sacrifices to give birth to a child that may be an inconvenience at the time, especially how hard it is to do so when you were raped, this is not your fault and this is your rapist's child, and what it's like to live in the world today, who loves being a woman and thinks women are valuable and precious and deserve equal rights just as everyone else but is not a feminist, who is considered to be quite motherly even as a teenager and believes motherhood is the most glorious thing a woman can do, I believe with all my heart that abortion has nothing to do with women's rights. In fact, it is quite the opposite.

So I want to be the Rev. Martin Luther King Jr. of the pro-life movement. I want to fight by nonviolence until I die for it, all the while hoping and dreaming of a day when this kind of injustice no longer exists, when the next generation learns about this time in history and is appalled that it ever occured.

As the Reverend said, "Let us not wallow in the valley of despair, I say to you today, my friends. And so even though we face the difficulties of today and tomorrow, I still have a dream. It is a dream deeply rooted in the American dream. I have a dream that one day this nation will rise up and live out the true meaning of its creed: 'We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal.'"

I have a dream that one day on the sunny shores of Florida, a mother who battled uncertainty and turmoil when she was pregnant with her rapist's child will be able to sit down with her beautiful son and truly love him, with no regrets of her decision to keep him, making sure he knows that it is not his fault he is the product of a rapist and should not have to suffer the consequences.

I have a dream that one day even the state of California, a state sweltering with the heat of injustice, with the highest rate of prenatal murders nationwide, will be transformed into an oasis of life and love.

I have a dream that my future children will one day live in a nation where abortion is unheard of, where people understand the value of intimacy and human life as God created it to be.

I have a dream today!

"I have a dream today that one day every valley shall be exalted, and every hill and mountain shall be made low, the rough places will be made plain, and the crooked places will be made straight; 'and the glory of the Lord shall be revealed and all flesh shall see it together.'"

Day in the life of a Pulse youth group-er.

Sorry for my annoying voice. I really should not talk so much when I am that amused.

"Okay, God, so when I fall, You'll pick me up, right?"

About 25 years ago, give or take, a girl called Linda lived with her daddy, whom she dearly loved. Her daddy was a born-again Christian, and for years he had been praying for her daughter's salvation, but her heart was cold. I'm not clear on all the exact details, but one day, when Linda was 15, her daddy, by the strength of God, led her to the Lord and she was saved.

After her restoration, Linda continued her relationship with God all throughout high school and college. She married a lovely man by the name of Michael and together they adopted a beautiful little girl from China whom they called Emma Grace. So Linda, Michael, and Emma lived together, in Doylestown, Pennsylvania. The daughter went to a Christian school, and the married couple led the outreach ministry at their church.

Linda was also a youth small group leader, and counseled many teenage girls in their relationships with Christ. She was particularly close to a girl in the youth group whom she called Lizard. Liz, as most others called her, loved her Jesus very much but struggled a lot in her relationship with Him for various reasons. Linda prayed over her after she got a concussion, approached her and hugged her very tightly at church out of the blue because she just knew something was wrong, and called her and made her a card when she was in the hospital. Linda was a second mom to Liz, and they loved each other very much.

Then there came a time when Linda's daddy grew very old, and with that came sickness. For two long years his body waged war between life and death, but Linda stuck with him through it all. She traveled back and forth each weekend from her home to his place of residence (sometimes a hospital, sometimes his house) in Brooklyn. She cried a lot, and she prayed. His health slowly deteriorated, to the point where he could no longer walk, talk, or eat by himself. Linda's heart broke at the sight of her daddy's wearing down, and she clung to her God during all this time. Her church family prayed for her, but she didn't know what to do. Her daddy, the one who she had always looked to as a godly role model, was slowly dying, and she didn't know what to think.

One day as Linda was spending time with her family, she received a call from her mommy telling her that her daddy was taking a turn for the worse. She once again drove up to Brooklyn, sat by her father's bedside and took care of him for many days, and watched him die. She was amazed at the "dying process" the Lord was bringing him through, which she had never seen occur before. He did not speak, but simply lay in his bed, breathing slow and peaceful breaths. She stayed up all hours of the night to give him his medication. At one of these times, she was in the other room preparing his meds, and heard him mumbling. She quickly ran to his side to hear what he had to say, wondering how in the world he was speaking which she thought he could no longer do. Her jaw dropped as she realized Who his conversation was with.

"Okay, God, so when I fall, You'll pick me up, right?
...alright Jesus, so I know I'm gonna fall. But You'll pick me right up!
Thank You, Lord. Thank You so much."

Linda knew her daddy's time to go home was coming soon. The next day, she sat next to him and watched his breaths, until finally she witnessed his last. Tears rolled down her cheeks as she gazed at his entrance into the presence of the Lord. She felt peace.

After she had some time to grieve and to take it all in after the services, she attended youth group. The youth pastor informed the group of her loss and asked her to speak about this time in her life. She made her way up to the front of the room meekly with awe and humility in her eyes. She said, "I just want to tell you guys this, because I want you to see how God was faithful through all of this. It's not a sad story - we mourn for his loss on earth, but our rejoicing for eternity is so much greater." One by one, she revealed the events of the past few years.  Not a tear was shed, but only shouts of joy and thankfulness to her Lord. Her Lizard was one of many in the crowd listening, and she was touched. Everything she was going through, everything she was stressed over and all the drama of the day, it was all put into God's light and it all fell into place. She prayed, "Jesus I just want You. You are so good."

Study of the Mind, Eating Disorders, and God's Word: How Do They Live In Coexistence?

An article I wrote for Ezine Articles

Mental illnesses are, without a doubt, real. The more pertinent question that needs to be asked is, what are mental illnesses and are they inclusive to eating disorders? This question is debatable among Christians and non-Christians alike, but it need not be.

In my public school sixth grade health class, I remember learning the clinical definition of mental illness: an emotional impairment. That is an easily agreeable fact and is a nonissue.

But it begs the questions: does the average eating-disordered person have a dynamic amount of emotions? Yes. Does the average non-eating-disordered person also have a dynamic amount of emotions? Yes.

The NAMI (National Alliance on Mental Illness) identifies many conditions as mental illnesses. When looking at their website, it is not difficult to note that all except two (eating disorders and substance abuse disorders; both are addictions) on their listing have one trait in common: they are characterized by skewed emotional tendencies, sometimes resulting in behaviors that are not learned, but rather, instinctual. When I use the word "instinctual," I am not implying that all humans act on these unhealthy behaviors, but rather, I am stating that only the mentally ill population does.

It is a known fact that a large majority of those diagnosed with anorexia, bulimia, binge eating disorder, and EDNOS are also diagnosed with another mental illness, most commonly depression, anxiety disorders, and obsessive-compulsive disorders. Rightly so -- sometimes. Eating disorders are, in some cases, the effect of said illnesses, not another illness altogether. Examples of this phenomena are easy to find.

Katie* suffers from major depressive disorder, so she binges to escape her negative emotions. Sarah is anxious about her body image, so she attempts to calm her worries with an eating disorder. Jessica has OCD, and her disease is manifested when she becomes ritualistic and numerically regimented in her diet.

Skewed emotions can also be an effect of eating disorders. Malnutrition messes with the brain's chemicals, and when emotions are placed into food and the toilet and not at the foot of the cross, they're gonna get a bit screwy. It is a known fact that, in my life, my times of freedom (times when I have not been actively using eating disorder symptoms) have been full of joy, socialization, trips abroad and across the country, a growing relationship with God and a desire to serve Him. My times of bondage have been occupied by hopelessness, lack of motivation, isolation, psychiatric hospitalizations due to suicidal tendencies, and a very distant and cold relationship with the Lord.

I have been diagnosed with major depressive disorder, and I agree that I do have it. My depression began long before my eating disorder did, so I know that it is not only an effect of my addiction, but also a cause. I am not denying that the nonaddictive mental illnesses are rightly identified; I am only speaking about addictions, specifically eating disorders.

So what are eating disorders? That's an easy one: sin. All addictions (the list goes on and on -- eating disorders, cutting, gambling, sex, pornography, alcohol, drugs...) can be placed under the category of life-dominating sins.

Do all eating-disordered people foster one or more of the following mindsets, including but not limited to: perfectionism, all-or-nothing thinking, an addictive personality, a desire for control, insecurity (biblically named fear of man), body image issues, lack of boundaries, weak ability to regulate emotions, etc? Yes, of course. Does this indicate a disease? Maybe by the Bible's definition, but definitely not in scientific terms. The underlying roots of eating disorders are nothing more than sinful natures.

I won't go into the long explanation of why eating disorders are sins, but the biblical evidence is abundant (Psalm 104:14-15, Acts 14:17, 1 Timothy 4:3-5, Col. 3:5, 1 Cor. 6:19-20, to name a few). Researching psychologists and psychiatrists have found that every addict has underlying roots to their problems (duh). They don't know what to call said cause, so they name it illness. Close, but no cigar. Sinful nature.

So let's talk about sinful natures; there are a few basic facts to remember. First, everyone has a different sinful nature, depending on an array of things both biological and environmental. It is common for Americans to have a sinful nature that may link to an eating disorder (gluttony, greed, perfectionism, vanity, idolatry, etc.) because of our culture. On a recent mission trip to the Dominican Republic, I noticed that some people had a higher tendency to lie and steal because of the deep poverty they were living in. I, personally, do not struggle with sexual sin as much as I do say, gossip, but many others have the opposite scenario. It all depends on the way God made us and the environment we grew up in.

It is not a sin to have a sinful nature -- only to act on it. Even Jesus Christ Himself had a human nature, as He was fully man (but, of course, He was perfect and did not sin). He also was tempted by Satan (Matt. 4:1), so we know temptation alone is not a sin.

I could not have controlled whether or not I was born with a sinful nature; that occurred in the Garden. I could have controlled whether or not I acted on that with an eating disorder. I did so choose, and I am held responsible.

Then the question arises, is this biblically identified cause of eating disorders and other life-dominating sins genetic? Many say no, but I disagree. Generational sins are very real in that each generation carries the sins of Adam. Now, this is not to say that we have an excuse for our actions, but sin is passed through generations and is therefore genetic. Therefore, the notion in and of itself that this distorted way of thinking is genetically inherited is not incorrect, but only wrongly applied.

Another important keynote is that psychology is not bad -- although clinical psychology has its errors. Psychology is the study of the human mind, which God created. The Lord tells us in His Word that He wants us to seek out knowledge and wisdom (Prov. 3). Psychology is a specified field of science with some research-based errors. Those errors have, unfortunately, been somewhat detrimental. As is so with biology and its studies of the big bang theory, but biology itself is not seen as bad. Secular counseling is not the antichrist.** Biblical counseling should be favored and placed on a higher priority, but secular counseling has obviously displayed to be helpful even to Christians. Any believer who legitimately wants the Lord is both willing and able to direct herself to the cross even without the help of a biblical counselor.

The connotation of "sin" applied to anorexia, bulimia, binge eating disorder and EDNOS does not imply that a person struggling with any of these is a failure, a lesser being, or is condemned to hell. Every human being is a sinner, and in God's eyes, every sin is equal. He died on the cross to atone for our sins. Repentance, healing, and renewal of the mind is found at His feet. The Bible speaks eloquently on this subject and tells us, "In repentance and rest is your salvation, in quietness and trust is your strength." (Isaiah 30:15) Jesus also said that we will "produce fruit in keeping with repentance." (Matt. 3:8) That means that if we persevere in our relationship with Him, we will one day be freed from our life-dominating sin. In the book of Romans, Paul instructs all believers: "Do not conform any longer to the pattern of this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your mind." (Romans 12:2) The One who transforms and renews our minds is God. It is hard to overcome an eating disorder when you hate yourself or obsess about food, but Jesus alone can break through that. I am washed white as snow with the precious blood of Jesus (Sounds like they cancel each other out, right? Think again.) and He is making me beautiful. That is why I love Him so much.

* Names are not based on any real person and are only used for an example.
** The word antichrist is not meant to be literal but is rather a depiction of the way some modern biblical counselors treat secular counseling.