Looking in the Mirror (GET THAT BEAM OUT!)

One of the reasons I relate so well to people on the streets is that I've been there.


Addiction, abuse,  despair...you name it, I've dealt with it.


Overcome it.


So I don't judge, I don't condemn, and I don't turn away.


The Lord delivered me, and I know that He can deliver each of them, if they are willing.


But most seem unable, unwillingly to change.


They try. They want to do better. They make some progress.


Then they slide back.


I knew that I'd once lived the same pattern.


Lately, though, I've realized that I'm still living it. And the revelation has knocked me to my knees.






A year ago I found myself in the most incredible, awe-inspiring, magnificent place known to man. Well, to woman.


I could fit into my old high school blue jeans.


I'd go to Cato's and be able to shop in the right side of the store for the first time in over a decade.


Clothes actually made the transition from hanger to dressing room mirror without losing their appeal.
It was so nice to get up in the morning and throw some clothes on without having to use some magazine tip to hide, camouflage, or visually slim-down a "trouble" spot.
It was amazing.


I threw out all my "fat" clothes.
Women keep their skinny clothes for the day when they can wear them again. They DON'T keep their fat clothes for when they gain it all back.


In the beginning, I did great.
I stuck to water only and ate very little meat. The health benefits were incredible. I had energy, I slept well, and I could walk for miles without tiring.
It worked great for my treks up and down stairs under interstate bridges.
Then came the pastor's equivalent of peer pressure.
Invited into homes, it was rude to decline homemade meals and desserts. I politely picked at my food and tried to assure my hosts that the pastor's wife was not picky, nor snotty, nor rude.
She just didn't want to get fat again.
After hurting someone's feelings one too many times, I started to eat a little more.
I even briefly considered throwing up afterwards. (I wish then that I'd seen the spiritual battle forming.)


Before long, my taste buds had fully reawakened.
And it was hard to stop.


I rediscovered Coca-Cola. And chocolate.
But I kept it under control. At first.
I did gain and lose the same 10 lbs. for a few months.
I still managed to stay in single digit clothes.


Then came winter.
I stopped walking every day, cranked up my oven for hot homemade biscuits every morning, and started cooking (and sampling) hot meals and desserts to bring out on the streets.
Every time I bought a bigger size of pants, I swore it would be the last.
As the numbers on the scale grew, so did my self-loathing.
Where was my self-control? How could I have let this happen?
I began to recognize the spiritual battle.
It was hindering my ministry.
I stopped going out to minister as much and I became a little depressed. I was embarrassed and quite frankly, a little mad at God for letting this happen. Like He forced pizza down my throat.


Eventually I realized this was a spiritual battle. Pride was right up there leading the charge against me.
I decided to fight back.
I got things back on track spiritually but haven't made as much progress in the weight loss department.
Still I try. I want to do better. I make some progress then...
I slide back.


Isn't that exactly the same pattern I deal with on the streets?!


I'd been looking in the mirror without realizing it.


There's really no difference. Sure, my activities aren't illegal. But the lack of self-control is the same. The trying, the failing, the giving up...I haven't overcome that pattern at all.


But I'm going to keep working on it.
And I pray that they will keep working on it as well.
Maybe together we can break these patterns for good.