an open book
I've been trying to get up at 4:45 a.m. to work out. I've succeeded once out of maybe five times of trying. But I tell myself if I keep trying, the success ratio will get higher. Tomorrow is #6. I'm coming for you, 4:45. All I do is win win win. I have my playlist of favorite worship songs, and it's called "Shhhhh...."
The way I see it, we can either love ourselves or hate ourselves. I could hate myself for how much weight I've put on. Or I could love myself for trying to do something about it. I could hate for the last year my weight has barely changed. Or I could love all the lessons I'm learning along the way.
I could hate that I have to go up in sizes of clothing. Or I could love that I am curvy. Like REALLY curvy. When I want to focus on my cellulite, I focus instead on the good skin I've acquired through the gene pool.
I love that only three years ago I didn't think I would be capable of working again. Because I had extreme anxiety about being somewhere I felt I couldn't leave. Not only is that anxiety gone, but I have a job I'm good at, at a place where I'm valued. Not everyone has that. I'm very aware that I do. I'm very aware that I'm alive and survived a depression that made me want to throw myself out my car on I-35 more times than I can count.
I love that I still want to write. That I still want to make something of my writing. There is a hope that stays alive in me. You cannot kill it. And I'm not afraid of being an open book. People have stopped me in stores, Old Navy to be specific, and have said "I saw what you wrote on Facebook - wow, you really put your heart out there." That's right, because I believe our hearts are for sharing. Mine belongs to Jesus. If you don't like it, find another heart to listen to. But I hope something I say or write will resonate with you.
There is a verse in the Bible that talks about God giving us the desires of our heart if we delight in Him. To me that means delighting and using the gifts He's given me. To reach the desires of my heart. And He knows all of them.
Many days during my depression Psalm 139 was the only psalm - the only tangible thing - that would give me some relief. And by relief, I mean make it able to not want to die. I spent almost 3 years only in the psalms. I really didn't care what the rest of the Bible had to say. The psalms were saying it all to me. I love this psalm in the Message version:
It's a fact: darkness isn't dark to you;
night and day,
darkness and light,
they're all the same to you. from verse 12
When you live constantly in a dark depression, and realize dark and light are the same to God, there is hope. There is massive revelation about the enormity of God. And in following, the enormity of His love.
Today I was listening to a message Francis Chan gave -- he's known affectionately as Fancy Chan in my house, because Ben thought that was his name when he was a little boy - and I almost jumped out of my chair at work. He has that effect on me.
It's an amazing message. I will probably listen to it again tomorrow and for quite a while. He knows Jesus intimately and is an amazing communicator. Listen to Fancy Chan, and have your mind blown a bit:
Francis Chan speaking at the Brooklyn Tabernacle - Learning to Hope
Good night, my friends.
The way I see it, we can either love ourselves or hate ourselves. I could hate myself for how much weight I've put on. Or I could love myself for trying to do something about it. I could hate for the last year my weight has barely changed. Or I could love all the lessons I'm learning along the way.
I could hate that I have to go up in sizes of clothing. Or I could love that I am curvy. Like REALLY curvy. When I want to focus on my cellulite, I focus instead on the good skin I've acquired through the gene pool.
I love that only three years ago I didn't think I would be capable of working again. Because I had extreme anxiety about being somewhere I felt I couldn't leave. Not only is that anxiety gone, but I have a job I'm good at, at a place where I'm valued. Not everyone has that. I'm very aware that I do. I'm very aware that I'm alive and survived a depression that made me want to throw myself out my car on I-35 more times than I can count.
I love that I still want to write. That I still want to make something of my writing. There is a hope that stays alive in me. You cannot kill it. And I'm not afraid of being an open book. People have stopped me in stores, Old Navy to be specific, and have said "I saw what you wrote on Facebook - wow, you really put your heart out there." That's right, because I believe our hearts are for sharing. Mine belongs to Jesus. If you don't like it, find another heart to listen to. But I hope something I say or write will resonate with you.
There is a verse in the Bible that talks about God giving us the desires of our heart if we delight in Him. To me that means delighting and using the gifts He's given me. To reach the desires of my heart. And He knows all of them.
Many days during my depression Psalm 139 was the only psalm - the only tangible thing - that would give me some relief. And by relief, I mean make it able to not want to die. I spent almost 3 years only in the psalms. I really didn't care what the rest of the Bible had to say. The psalms were saying it all to me. I love this psalm in the Message version:
It's a fact: darkness isn't dark to you;
night and day,
darkness and light,
they're all the same to you. from verse 12
When you live constantly in a dark depression, and realize dark and light are the same to God, there is hope. There is massive revelation about the enormity of God. And in following, the enormity of His love.
Today I was listening to a message Francis Chan gave -- he's known affectionately as Fancy Chan in my house, because Ben thought that was his name when he was a little boy - and I almost jumped out of my chair at work. He has that effect on me.
It's an amazing message. I will probably listen to it again tomorrow and for quite a while. He knows Jesus intimately and is an amazing communicator. Listen to Fancy Chan, and have your mind blown a bit:
Francis Chan speaking at the Brooklyn Tabernacle - Learning to Hope
Good night, my friends.