I am that girl – – the one who lost a bunch of weight and gained it all back. But the next time I lose 30 pounds, I am definitely going to resist the urge to give away all my fat pants. I lost the weight over the course of a summer, and gained it back, slowly, painfully over the course of the next two years. I left that summer in June and came back at the end of August transformed. I was gee-whiz skinny and a whole new size – – six to be exact (which is REALLY small for me). I even bought one size four skirt just because I could zip it up. The only time I wore it was in the store. It was still worth it. Oh my GOODNESS it felt great.

Everyone wanted to know how I did it. It was like achieving some sort of B-list, suburban celebrity. And I was not shy to share my secrets. The victory was mine! I had finally done it. I told them everything – – sounding as crazy as you might imagine. “I juiced.” “I cut out everything bad.” “I went vegan.” I basically didn’t eat for a few months and wham, bam, thank you Ma’am, I was wispy and lithe and I felt GREAT until I had to figure out how to sustain myself on real food and a normal life. But at the time, my enthusiasm was unstoppable. I was so ecstatic, I just couldn’t help myself. If I were not me, I would have run in the opposite direction when I saw myself coming.

A life-long introvert and ridiculously self-conscious, all of a sudden I felt like going places, meeting people and making an entrance. My chub rub was gone. My pants didn’t tug. My arms didn’t jiggle. I didn’t scoff at shopping. I actually looked forward to finding something to wear each day and I had the pick of my entire closet. For the very first time in my adult life, I felt physically comfortable, even happy, in my own skin. I felt pretty. Even the “popular girls” (imagine at my age, but it’s TRUE) wanted to know what I did.

I was wearing clothes that had not fit for decades, and they flowed and fell around me in loosely-gathered, outdated bliss. I fit into the college Levi’s I couldn’t bring myself to throw away. I cannot possibly minimize how great it felt to be that unaware of my physicality – – to be able to be comfortable in my own skin, relax, and just breathe. It was an “unawareness” that was priceless. I am a pretty physical person anyway, I love to move and sweat and run around, and being able to do that unencumbered was really something else. It was a gift and a treasure and not all of that is vanity speaking. It was the body, I believe, God intended for me to live in, one fit and healthy and “right-sized.” It was a body (if not a little too small at the time) that allowed freedom and ease.

And even though here I am back at square one, I am so grateful I went on that journey and I have not given up hope that I can experience those wonderful feelings of being physically fit, unencumbered and healthy again. Although, if there is a next time, the only way I am going to get there is playing the long game not going for the quick fix – – because losing weight isn’t actually about losing it – – it’s about how to keep it off once it’s gone.

So this isn’t a weight loss blog. Clearly. If it were, I would not be writing it squeezed into my “boyfriend” jeans that fit like skinnies. What it is, is my attempt to address what I think of as a really pivotal issue in my life (again not weight or weight related) that happens
to affect my weight and not so coincidentally every other area of challenge in my life.

So in making weight and body and food the “issues” perhaps I have missed the boat completely. I have been focusing on the wrong things entirely. Because let’s face it, I know how to lose weight. Give me any plate of food and within a matter of seconds I can break it down to the last calorie and carb. Talk about any diet and I can weigh in with an informed opinion. I am a smart girl, and I know SO MUCH about losing weight. But that hasn’t helped me get rid of any of my wrap sweaters or XL sweats. I have every piece of information I need to combat weight. I have every incentive to want to return to comfort and good health. But square one is where I have landed, over and over and over again.

I have been happy to make weight and food and eating my issues. And I have lovingly picked them up, and examined them from every conceivable angle for the vast majority of my life. In fact, these issues get so much of my time and energy and attention it is embarrassing. I don’t want to be that girl. I don’t want to be so invested in how I look and feel…but I have been. I know there is no intrinsic value in any of this. I know these things are superficial. And I am certainly not silly enough to think it matters to anyone else. In fact, in general, women would prefer other women to be a little chunky, rather than svelte…so…”You’re welcome…” But even in the light of all that “understanding,” I have given these topics a vast amount of real estate in my heart, mind and body – – for years. I have read every book, tried every plan, made every commitment to myself and others. I have given weight and food and body-issues a focus of my life that is wildly out of proportion. Kind of like….well… an idol.

But what if weight and food and body issues weren’t my actual issues? What if I have been examining and turning over and investigating all the wrong things all these years? What if dying to self and self-control, not dairy or wheat were actually what I should have been considering? What if my myopic focus on food was part of the problem?

Dying-to-self has such a negative connotation, but what if I really looked at it like offering my brokenness to God in exchange for his redemption? A trade-in – – A trade-up, in fact – – Dying-to-self, as a sort of spiritual impulse control that turns  Door Number #1 with the lama into  Door #3 with the “Brand New Car.” So dying to self is a good thing…not an easy thing, but a thing with the infinite promise, protection and blessing of God.

One of the fruits of the Spirit is self-control. I think God calls it self-control, not Spirit-control because He gives me free will as an intrinsic part of my relationship with Him. I don’t HAVE to follow Him, I am not forced to do as He says or else – – I can choose to follow Him, choose obedience, choose time with Him, choose to get to know Him – – or not.

As someone who believes in God, Jesus and the Holy Spirit – – I believe the Spirit and the flesh both live in me at the same time. And I have a choice – – all the time – – which nature I am going to choose. Am I going to practice deferring to the Spirit or practice “doing what I feel like,” and acquiescing to the flesh… because, let’s face it, not always, but so often, the two conflict. God tells me I can live in the Spirit – – not the flesh – – and it’s like a muscle I can build up over time, one small choice after another. The more I exercise Spirit choices in me, the more I am free; and the more I yield to the flesh, the more I am enslaved. Counterintuitive, yes. But knowing that going in is being armed with the truth.

I think for a long time I thought if I was a “good Christian” I wouldn’t feel like being selfish, or angry or gluttonous or fearful. I wouldn’t feel jealous or worried or resentful… and the list goes on…. But that’s not what God says at all. He talks about “crucifying the flesh”… I don’t know about you, but when I think of crucifixion, I think of struggle. God asks me to die to self. And I don’t think he expects me to do it perfectly or gracefully. But I think he does expect me to do it, because if I can, all those beautiful blessings he promises await on the other side of simple (but not easy) obedience.

I don’t think God wants me to think about it as self-denial – – because in the long run it’s not. I think He wants me to think about it as me moving TOWARD His will for me (which is what I want anyway), not away from my own will. Take food as an example – – it’s so easy. I might want the milk shake now, but I want health and well-being more – – Spiritual impulse control, dying to self, leads me to God’s will, not my own. It’s sacrificing the immediate desire for something greater later.

I love how God puts it in Galatians 5. ¹⁶ So I say, live by the Spirit, and you will not gratify the desires of the flesh. ¹⁷ For the flesh desires what is contrary to the Spirit, and the Spirit what is contrary to the flesh. They are in conflict with each other, so that you are not to do whatever you want. ¹⁸ But if you are led by the Spirit, you are not under the law.” And if I am led by the Spirit, then I am God’s not my own. So even if it feels like a war on the inside, that’s o.k. – – Doing the right thing, not feeling like doing the right thing, is the real victory for God and for me. And my hope is that practiced enough, those two roads will merge into accord. I think the reality is that in some areas it will and in others it may be a struggle forever, and that’s o.k. The nice thing is it is never hard to recognize what the right thing is – – God makes that part easy.

Slow-to-anger, Love thy neighbor as yourself, love your enemy….so many of the things God asks of us, have elements that sacrifice doing what I feel like now, for a better result later. I think the options God has for me in this life are always the “easier softer way,” they just don’t always (or really often) appear that way at first. A little “death-to-self” which sounds so macabre, but plays out so incredibly well in the long run is just a part of a life of faith – – it is what transforms life over real-time. And that death-to-self has a whole lot to do with free will.

My husband has been telling the girls since in the past few years to “Do hard things”…. And I have watched their characters transform as they have chosen to do just that – – and for each one of them it’s not a “one-and-done” proposition, it’s a matter of getting up every morning and practicing a discipline and doing that again and again and again – – morning after morning, season after season, enduring pain, exhaustion, injury and fear – – facing doubt and forgoing comfort and doing what they don’t feel doing like to achieve something bigger. (Don’t get me wrong – – they also have fun in the doing of it, the camaraderie, the sense of accomplishment and all the rest…) But much of it is work up-front, reward later. And over the course of years, I have seen their characters transform… The Holy Spirit does the transformation, but I think the girls and all of us open the door to the transforming power of the Holy Spirit with a dynamic and supernatural cocktail of free-will, self-control and a splash of death to self to make choices that perhaps are never comfortable or “popular” in the moment, but reap remarkable rewards later.

Dying to self is an easy concept to fully understand – – but for me, it is also one of those confounding spiritual disciplines that is SO easy to “get” and SO hard to execute. In some areas of my life I do just fine – – in others the struggle to die-to-self is epic…which brings me back to food. You think with all the real life I have had over the years, I could best a little bit of carbonara….but not so…not so far.

It was easy to go on a crash diet that summer and see immediate results. But the results didn’t last and the entire experience has really convinced me I am being called to look at the-whole-food-thing through God’s eyes and not my own. Like all truths, God made the truth about food (for me) simple. And I add “for me” very intentionally as I don’t believe we all have the same relationship with food/body/and physicality. But for me, I really feel as if God is saying, “Eat and enjoy good things, enough but not too much, and good health and a healthy, active body will follow.” And when I eat outside that simple Divine plan – whether it be out of boredom or loneliness or for comfort or distraction – – whether it be too much or too often, or just because it’s good – – I am out of God’s will and I have to deal with consequences that challenge my own notions of being comfortable in my own skin. When I veer too far outside that simple and Divine plan, then food and weight – – not freedom – -become the focus.

The whole act of buying another book or going on another plan, or trying another trick is actually a thinly disguised way of just keeping food on its altar instead of its proper place, far lower on the chain of priorities. I think it’s time to really put this issue in a die-to-self category, and no matter how long it takes, have food resume it’s normal, healthy, God-given place in my life. I am tired (very, very tired) of focusing on food. There is more to life, and certainly God doesn’t want food taking up this much of my time and energy and effort. I think He would probably want me focused more on loving God and loving others…a mission with a priority a little higher up on the list.

Lori McKay is one of the most wonderful people I have ever met. She is one of those quietly magnetic people you get to meet a handful of times in your life. She’s a little hard to explain, but I think it’s mostly that Lori glows with the love of God – – and the supernatural aspect of that is an intangible that defies description – – it’s just something you feel when you are around her. Shortly after I met her, I had the chance to meet her parents and it became instantly clear that glow had started at least a generation earlier, and probably many more. Good stock as they say.

Her parents, the Wilsons, lived in a very small town in Texas and one of the first times we ever visited them, we stayed at their home in Cooper. In that short trip, many years ago, both Mr. and Mrs. Wilson spoke words of truth, so powerful, they have resonated since, always coming to mind when I need them most. Mr. Wilson made a passing remark, that struck me with the kind of force only profound truths can deliver. As we were standing on the tarmac to leave, he leaned in over the noise of the planes and said, “People think being a Christian is easy. And that’s partly true. Becoming a Christian is easy, Christ himself already did the work. But following Christ, well that can be really hard.”

I loved him for saying that. It made me feel – – even then – – that I wasn’t doing it wrong, that it was a legitimately hard journey that demanded more of me than I often wanted to give. And now, fifteen years later, when I know so much more about who God is and how much I can trust Him, it informs my journey in an even deeper way. I have been having my way for a long time, in a lot of areas. Perhaps it is time for me to live the hard part of the Christian life in the areas I have tried to keep for myself. Sometimes God speaks through others, and in sharing what Mr. Wilson did with me, I saw in him a real understanding of “where I am weak, He is strong.” And when I get to the point where I am finally and truly willing to submit to Him, it doesn’t mean it’s going to be easy, and I have to remember that that doesn’t mean I am doing it wrong. Willingness is an action, not an attitude. One small decision after another, day after day, faithful to the idea that God’s way is better than my own- – long obedience in the same direction – – and like Mr. Wilson predicted, “that can be really hard.”

That journey, one decision at a time isn’t perfect, and sometimes it moves forward, and other times back. But there is no condemnation in Christ as I go through this journey – – only love and encouragement. It’s a come-to-Me, invitation, not a game of right or wrong. I am committed to practicing the real deal and not taking short cuts only focused on getting “fast results.” Fast results are my way, not God’s. The issue isn’t food, it’s dying to self. The issue isn’t relationship it’s dying to self. The issue isn’t patience, it’s dying to self. The issue isn’t submission, it’s dying to self. The issue isn’t fill-in-the-blank…..the issue is dying to self – – not doing it the same old way and just because I believe in God, expecting different results – – it’s actually about doing it God’s way and seeing where that leads. That’s faith – – acting my way into right thinking rather than trying to think my way into right action…

The issue is NEVER the issue, the issue is dying to self. With food dying to self looks like self-control – – but self-control rarely looks like something extreme. In fact, played out by the Spirit of God, self-control looks a lot like balance – – rather than deprivation. It’s God’s Spirit who loves me and wants the best for me. Why would that look extreme or painful or punitive? God loves me. Actually. So when His Spirit works through me, it looks natural, as if I am doing what I was designed to do.

Dying to self in all things, demands that I give first, with no expectation of return from the world or those in it. Dying to self is the craziest part of Christianity – – it’s the Iron Man Triathlon of all things physical, relational and otherwise. Dying to self might sound sacrificial, but it is not. Because God’s thoughts are not my thoughts and His ways are not my ways — – doing things God’s way will feel counterintuitive – – it will feel like dying to self – – but in that act, comes relief, a new way, and transformation. Dying to self is moving toward God. Dying to self is a good thing. It’s God’s “eat your broccoli,” and there is ALWAYS blessing after that kind of obedience. And every time I do it, I have been amazed at the results, and so grateful for a God who can see so much further down the road than the next bite, or the next choice or the rest of my life.

Mr. Wilson said, “Being a Christian is not easy,” and I believe him. Living a life following Christ is not easy. But dying to self leads to living in alignment with God’s will which will take me someplace I could never manufacture on my own. And what better destination than the Divine?

I wish the word “Failure” elicited knowing glances and nods of respect – – I wish it ignited unprompted slaps on the back and cheers of encouragement from on-looking crowds…. But in our culture, it doesn’t. We are often only willing to reveal our own failures in the context and safety of subsequent successes. Sometimes I just want to jump up and down and shake the world like a snow globe until everything falls back into a semblance of good sense. Failure is GOOD. And more than good, it’s necessary. Instead of eliciting shame, it should be a badge of courage we slap on ourselves, our children and any other soul we see emerge from the experience still moving forward, still kicking – – somehow unextinguished.

This weekend I had to watch my daughter struggle through a race she had been training for, for months. She didn’t come near the time she had hoped to record, and when the race was over, her head swung down and hung between her shoulders shaking back and forth. It was hard to watch. After all that training, all that hard work I wanted her to have her moment. But there was nothing I could do to change a thing. And even if it were possible for me to do so, taking away the opportunity for her to walk through that “failure” to the threshold of “What now,?” would be robbing her of one of life’s greatest opportunities for growth.

I think part of the problem is that the world moves so fast there isn’t time to fail any more. Everything seems to be moving at warp speed and the world raises kids to be successful at 18, when we should be raising kids to be happy, healthy and well-adjusted at forty. We should be raising kids focused on building solid character, great values and a healthy portfolio of real life experiences – – not resumes. There is no way to avoid failure if you are playing “the long game.” Failure is a necessary part of the process – – an extraordinarily valuable part of the process – – which is why it’s remarkable that we spend so much energy sometimes trying to “save” our kids from failure. When they meet failure on their own, they get to learn those hard lessons that forge a different way ahead the next time. My dad used to tell me, “Even if I could spare you this pain, I wouldn’t because you will learn from it and you will grow….” He was right.

I always think of the back stories of the wildly successful and the ridiculously philanthropic. They are the people most intimately acquainted with failure, and their fall-down-and-get-back-up stories are what lead them to truly authentic success and selfless generosity. Failure breeds compassion for self and empathy for others, it creates patience and fuels drive. Failure ignites passion and adjusts perspective, forging new paths to old goals and creating some new ones along the way. Failure teaches, tempers and humbles. Without it, success is never truly earned.

When we moved into the home we live in now, we had six floods over the first two and a half years. They were the kind of epic floods that forced us to bring so much STUFF up from the basement that we literally had to create paths through the rest of house to navigate the new configuration. And then there was the ritual of what to save, what to discard and where to spread everything out to dry while the entire basement was redone – – over and over and over again. It was brutal. With each flood we removed dry-wall, pulled up carpet and padding, took out tacking strips and bleached everything, including each other, trying to stave off the relentless onslaught of mold. All the storage cupboards had to be emptied, dried, and repacked, item by item. And then there was the loss and damage – – I stopped keeping track. The mildew, the smell, the mud. It was utterly overwhelming and a little bit of my sanity might very well have been washed away with the last of them…. After the fifth flood, we waited SIX MONTHS before we put a new carpet down because, as delightful as he was, I was sick and tired of talking to Ed in the Home Depot flooring department. He knew me on a first name basis and I nearly wept the day he recognized my voice on the phone without me identifying myself first. I knew all about his family and what was going on in his life and every few months we had hours to reconnect. He kept a template of my order information and although we kept changing colors, he was kind enough to forego measurement after the first three floods.

So on a Friday, after six months of a bone dry basement, we laid the fourth shade of neutral carpet and when the installers left, I had the fleeting thought, “I hate this color…” but quickly banished the sentiment for fear it would jinx the fix. Apparently I didn’t banish it fast enough because that tawny-shade of brown only lasted until Monday when the house flooded for the sixth time in the most spectacular way – – floating couches and all. The disruption to family and finances and peace was inestimable and relentless – – for years.

Each time we flooded, in addition to repairing what the water damaged, broke or ruined, we also had to address why we were flooding in the first place. First we replaced the wimpy sump pump with the gee whiz version, then when we found that was not quite enough to do the job, we added a second sump pump. After that we got a back-up system, then we cleared an outside drainage line, next replaced a hopelessly clogged grate, and finally we re-graded the entire back yard so the overflow from the neighbors wouldn’t form a torrent of water headed straight for down under.

Suffice it to say since that last “fix,” there have been no more water marks added to our furniture however in the perfectly dreadful timing of it all – – the last rug I bought from Ed at Home Depot was the absolute cheapest of the bunch – – not the plush, extra padded varieties I had done the first three rounds, not even the stain resistant, heavy tread I tried the fourth time through. No, this one was almost white and had no bells and no whistles, no “durability features” or long-life guarantees. I gave up hope, one flood too soon. So that’s the rug we are left with.

But the point is this – – It wasn’t the last fix that did it, it was the combination of all six fixes. We failed each time until the last, and every time we failed, we tweaked something, identified something and worked out a solution until we finally came up dry. Life is like that. Failure is a necessary step in achieving lasting, meaningful, authentic success. I have all sorts of crazy confidence that we will have to live with the “ugly rug” as long as it lasts because I am as sure as I have ever been that we are not going to flood again, no matter what. We have earned a dry basement through six colossal failures.

Failure is an extraordinary teacher. All great successes are built upon the wisdom of failure – – without it the constructs of success are weak, ill-tested, superficial, and temporary. So when Phoebe “failed” this weekend….as much as it hurt to watch, I knew something spectacular could rise out of the ashes.

Watching her come up short of her own expectations was really hard to witness. I had seen the work she had put in up until that point – – all the mornings up before dawn, all the planning and preparation, and when I saw doubt come in and yank that carpet out from under her in the moment, I wanted to inject her with my vision of her, and give her the confidence to ignore the fear. But I couldn’t…

The trouble was, it wasn’t “failure” out of a place of best effort, best attitude – – she let fear get the best of her. And because fear loves to masquerade as so many other emotions like frustration, insecurity, resignation and anger, she didn’t see that until she saw the video of the race.

Last night she snuggled up to me when I was lying in bed and said to me, “I saw the video of my 2K.”

I was surprised she brought it up. “What’d you think?” I asked.

“I thought I looked GREAT…” She laughed, “especially in the middle.” She had raced hard in the beginning and started out strong and finished with an incredible kick but right in the middle of the race there was a moment in which she lost her wind and her confidence at the same time and instead of rowing through, she faltered.

The way she talked about her video, I knew she had seen and recognized her breaking point for what it was- – the point at which her body faltered and instead of rowing through, she took a moment to pay attention to the fear that came with that…she let her head get in the way of her body’s ability to execute. The question was now, what was she going to do about it?

What I didn’t hear were any excuses. Which made my heart leap. She had seen it – – the moment when she shook her head and her shoulders crumpled – – the moment fear rowed past her, and her best efforts were subjugated to emotion. She saw it. And a little seed of “row-no-matter-what” was planted. She saw it and didn’t shy away from it – – in fact she was being pretty self-deprecating and had already packed her clothes for morning practice.

Like my dad, it was one of those circumstances I would not have taken away from her even if I could. She needed to experience this. She needed to watch that tape, as painful as it probably was for her to see. Because seeing the truth is ALWAYS a gift – – and if you are courageous enough to not shy away, If you are brave enough to lean in and address it – – then you can fly.

And Phoebe leaned in. Like a champ. Champions experience fear all the time, and now Phoebe knows what it will feel like the next time fear visits – – but she will have a choice about what she wants to do about it – – succumb to it or just let it float by in the face of undeterred effort.

This kid has been in the garage, almost every morning for the past five months, in the pitch black hours of pre-dawn preparing for that race. This was a really hard lesson for her to learn. Getting back up after a knock down like that, is something I am not sure I could do with the aplomb and courage she showed this morning.

That’s grit. Facing the truth and rowing on. That’s my girl. That’s what leads to better and better races, and in life – -that’s what leads to the life God has in store for us – – neither a life limited by our own imagination, nor a life subject to those feelings of fear or condemnation – – because feelings like that don’t come from Him. Rowing on, no matter if you are in the midst of the biggest competition of your life or just a regular day – – it’s all about knowing that God has equipped you with everything you need to face every circumstance. I wanted to scream to that child in the middle of her race, YOU ARE ENOUGH. Because she is. God made her that way. She never needs more than she has at any given moment. It’s the whole Dorie thing… “Just keep swimming.” If we trust God is out there and if we know God is for us, then our best efforts and our best attitude is all we EVER need to bring to the party. Sometimes that will lead to success other times it won’t, but really it doesn’t matter – – both are part of the process. And failure is a great way to show back up at the starting line, having shed a little fear, shed a little pride, shed a little angst and expectation and all those other accoutrements we need never lug with us again …and just row.