“But I will find you in the place I'm in, find you when I'm
at my end, Find you when there's nothing left of me to offer you except for
brokenness.”
I am a trophy for God. Not from my works, but from the proof
of grace over my life. I am broken, but I know the One who is complete. I am a
sinner, but I know the One who forgives. I certainly do not have it all
together, but I know the One who does. I approach Christ as a shattered and
heavy sinner, yet He still pulls me in with open arms; He fights for my heart
every second of every day. He is merciful. He is grace. He is waiting for
us.....
Have you ever experienced a time where all you felt was enervation and brokenness? The only way to continue on was to just fall to your
knees, or even to bury your face in the dark? Throughout recovery I have
experienced many “I’ll find You on my knees” moments. These hopeless, yet catalytic
moments in time seem slightly less overwhelming when we are somewhat expecting
them. When I first entered treatment, I thought I would be in and out within a month
or two. Consequently, you could say all the “blows” I faced in the first two
months were somewhat predictable; however, when I learned I was in this for the
long haul, the devastating experiences of trying so hard and still “failing”
every day seemed to hit harder and harder each time. For the past ten or so
months I have spent in treatment, I have gone through periods of time where I
expected many difficulties with recovery (like when preparing for Miss America), and I have
experienced periods of time when I truly thought the majority of the struggles
that come along with an eating disorder had subsided, only to learn they had
not. It’s a nice slap in the face of reality to say the least. While many of
you probably have not gone through treatment for an eating disorder, I am sure
you can relate to the emptiness and sheer frustration that comes along when all
you feel is brokenness. When all you think about is the mistakes you’ve made,
the place you want to be but aren’t, the constant desire to live in freedom,
and the undeniable sense of helplessness when one’s efforts seem to not be
enough for the present moment. It’s the feeling of “all I can do is try to get
on my knees.” It’s the reality when all you can do is try to do the next right
thing…minute by minute.
After many setbacks this past year, I've learned sometimes
the only way to go up is to completely fall down. It is when we fall we are
awakened to our many weaknesses and our inability to get through life on our
own, thus proving our daily need for Christ's forgiveness, patience, and
salvation. The moments I let my guard down and become too comfortable with my
surroundings and way of living are the moments I find myself descending faster
than an anchor lowering to the bottom of an ocean floor, only to catch myself
right before I hit the bottom with no brakes. It is a scary place to be in, but
it is also an empowering place to be in. When I feel strong, I am weaker than
ever because it is at these times I inadvertently try to “do life” based on my
strength versus His strength. No matter the degree of severity, we can each learn
a valuable lesson from these “reality slaps.”
The lesson that the One who spent 24 hours a day, seven days
a week, for nine straight months knitting us together, cell by cell by cell, is
the same One who is there for us every time we turn back running for Him.
Christ is the same yesterday, today, and tomorrow. He is the one who has never and
will never give up on us. Mercy. He is merciful.
In your moments of hopelessness, try to find comfort in the
knowledge you are never alone. You are not the only anchor sinking, and as with
all anchors, they eventually begin the slow climb upward…sometimes descending
again before fully reaching the top. Place
your trust in our Redeemer.
“You are my lamp, O Lord; the Lord turns my darkness into
light.” -2 Samuel 22:29
-Love in Christ,
Leighton
www.missga2012.blogspot.com
