Put It Down

I've made a hundred or more promises to myself and to others to change the way I eat. There is no lack of knowledge on my part as to what that should be, either how much or in what proportions. Time and time again I've said "this is the time" and time and time again I have failed to maintain any dietary changes.

So what makes my commitment to not drinking alcohol different? How is it that I can go from nightly glasses of wine and weekly over indulgence to not a drop in four months?

I promised God I would stop drinking for a year. That's the difference. You can read about that here if you missed it.

Last week I started a book called Made to Crave by Lysa TerKeurst. I could probably highlight the whole book, circling dozens of sentences with notes saying "that's me". It's making me uncomfortable, which is how I know that it is important stuff for me to recognize. 

So yesterday as I sat in the hot tub - you know where this is going, right? - I was thinking about the book and food and alcohol. I "know" that I have to change the way I eat but I am unwilling to do it. I was thinking about this unwillingness, and I realized that in order to fully commit to eating healthy I have to promise God that I will do it. I am resisting that because I know once I commit to God I have no other choice but to comply and that's scary. I've done so much work around my food choices and I've given up alcohol, why isn't that enough? Why do I have to give up chocolate and bread and pasta too?

"Put it down, Ginny. Put it all down."

Words from you-know-who popped into my head.

I pictured myself as a little girl clutching onto the things that she thinks will make her happy. Arms loaded with worthless goods as the riches of heaven await. (I can't believe I just typed that sentence.) I see God holding out his hand, waiting for me to make the decision to choose life with him over a life of empty, ultimately unfulfilling promises. Food satisfies my body but doesn't satisfy my soul.

The problem is that even though I know that food has never given me what I hope for, it is comforting. Although the satisfaction may be short lived, it is real and immediate. It is not so with God, or at least it hasn't been so far. It would be so much easier if I had something to think back on, some time in my life when my pain was eased by turning to God. For that to have happened I would have had to turn to him, which I haven't.

So this involves another leap of faith. 

In my relationship with God the past few months I have turned to him in praise, thanking him for things that have happened or for the flowers or a gorgeous sunrise. "Thank you" is easy; it doesn't require faith. "Please" is harder and more intimate. I don't want to be disappointed. I am afraid that he won't come through for me when the going gets tough. 

Can you see me clutching things closer to my chest and stomping my feet? 

All night long I pictured God's hand reaching out to me. Even as I ate that bowl of ice cream and chased it with a couple of miniature Reese's Cups I felt his watchful, and hopeful, eye on me. There was no condemnation of my actions; it was the loving gaze of a parent waiting for their child to make the right choice. "Soon" I silently said. "Not yet."

This afternoon I received in the mail the results of a physical I took a couple of weeks ago. My cholesterol is higher than it has ever been, with a particularly high triglyceride level. My spiritual nudging is followed by physical proof of my need to change my eating habits.

And so.

I will put it down. I will put it all down and take God's hand. I will turn to him instead of to food when I am happy or sad or stressful or tired.  I will make the choices I know are right for my body, and I will ask for his help when those choices don't come easily. 

This, my friends, is my surrender.