How to Set Captives Free

There seems ever to have been a proneness in the brilliant and warm-blooded to fall into this vice–the demon of intemperance ever seems to have delighted in sucking the blood of genius and of generosity.”

Abraham Lincoln

Several years ago I was at a party where I encountered friends I had not seen in in a long time. One friend in particular had gained so much weight I did not recognize her. I suppose she thought me rude when we were talking because I didn’t engage as I normally do with an old friend. Sure, she seemed familiar but because I wasn’t aware of our shared history, I politely conversed with her in ignorance, too embarrassed to ask her name.

After talking to her husband, I mentioned to mine that I was looking for her. He said, “But Margaret, you’ve been talking to her for the past half an hour.” I was mortified. She was so physically altered that I simply did not know what to say; especially in light of my radical weight loss.

I know all too well the helpless feeling of gaining weight and running into someone I haven’t seen in a while. The freight train of negative thoughts was always quick to crush me under its wheels.

Please don’t mention my weight. Please don’t ask me what happened; I don’t know what happened myself. I don’t want to talk about it. Please don’t make me talk about it. All while smiling and trying to reminisce.

If the person was a close friend I would make excuses. “I’ve been under a lot of pressure at work. The baby isn’t sleeping. I’ve been sick. I had surgery. I have a slow metabolism.” When I look back at all the excuses I made over the years for why I gained weight, I consider them fuel for the fire that burns in me now to maintain my liberty from that wicked master: Gluttony.

Abraham Lincoln hated slavery. He despised the man in chains, held captive by a militant master. He saw alcoholism as no lesser an evil. As I read his speech to the Springfield Washingtonian Temperance Society on February 22, 1842, I couldn’t help but wonder what he would think of my fellow American’s and their propensity to eat. Would he ask for the “temples and altars, where the rites of his idolatrous worship have long been performed, and where human sacrifices have long been wont to be made” to be “daily desecrated and deserted” as he did of the vice of drink?

The addict does not generally view his addiction with such dire terminology. We kiss the monster that curses us for another hit of bliss even as we die in its embrace. While enthralled, we are blind to the chains that bind us even as we secretly long for someone to set us free.

Discipline is the key to freedom.

Discipline has been a dear friend in recent months as I encountered challenges both mentally and physically. A Tuesday night last week found me stressed out and in the aisle at Sam’s Club craving peanut M&M’s. I touched the large container on the shelf and started to salivate. I had been crying over an especially awful encounter with my son’s principal and his unkind treatment of my son when I dropped by the store to buy dog food. Instead, I stood sobbing in the candy aisle while I considered how comforting it would be to drown my sorrows in sugar-soaked drops of chocolate. Instead, I immediately stopped and texted my friend Becky.

“Pray for me! I am sorely tempted to flush this sh*tty day down the toilet with some M&M’s.”

She responded, “Get out of there now!”

And I did. I didn’t even pause to wonder what all the shoppers thought of the galloping girl with the 30 pound bag of dog food slung over her shoulder. I did this because I know candy will not heal the emotional pain, it will only add another burden to a load that is already too heavy to bear.

Abraham Lincoln is rightly revered for his dedication to abolish slavery. I was unaware, until today, of how favorably he viewed the temperance movement. But what most struck me about this speech was how he viewed the religious ilk of his day in response to that epidemic. He said, “They [are supposed to] have no sympathy of feeling or interest with those very persons whom it is their object to convince and persuade.”

And he empathized with those afflicted.

For the man suddenly or in any other way to break off from the use of drams, who has indulged in them for a long course of years and until his appetite for them has grown ten or a hundredfold stronger and more craving than any natural appetite can be, requires a most powerful moral effort. In such an undertaking he needs every moral support and influence that can possibly be brought to his aid and thrown around him. And not only so, but every moral prop should be taken from whatever argument might rise in his mind to lure him to his backsliding. When he casts his eyes around him, he should be able to see all that he respects, all that he admires, all that he loves, kindly and anxiously pointing him onward, and none beckoning him back to his former miserable “wallowing in the mire.”

Abraham Lincoln

Discipline has taught me that denial of the gluttonous impulse is the highest form of freedom. I asked God to give me a deeper love–a love that would satisfy the true longings of my heart the way candy, soda or fast food never did. In order to break the chains of that horrible addiction, I had to repeatedly deny my baser instincts and cling to something good. I clung to Jesus who promised to “never leave or forsake me”. This true love was more powerful than food or drink. It still is. And I had good friends, like my Becky, who surrounded me with love and support.

Today, if you are that friend who has put on so much weight as to be unrecognizable, if you feel the weight of years held captive to cravings of unnatural appetites that refuse to be satisfied, take heart! Pray for God to teach you discipline. Pray to be an avid pupil. And begin the thrilling and rewarding journey that will forever transform your life.

Abe Lincoln was a warrior who fought valiantly to free slaves. I like to think he is cheering me on from Heaven. If you are reading this and trying to find hope, I believe he is cheering you on too!

And when the victory shall be complete, when there shall be neither a slave nor a drunkard on the earth, how proud the title of that land which may truly claim to be the birthplace and the cradle of both those revolutions that shall have ended in that victory.

Abraham Lincoln

The Sweetness of My Dwelling Place

I was a young girl when a missionary who was staying with my parents gave me a most precious book, Little Pilgrim’s Progress. I read it with joy as a girl and again as an adult, but I had no real appreciation for the story until a few years ago when I began to read John Bunyan’s original classic, “A Pilgrim’s Progress”.

I had not thought of it until a few weeks ago when I was trying to put words to a challenging situation in my personal life. I described to a friend that lately, life felt a lot like grasping around in the dark and crying out to God for help. I said, “I can’t see Him, but I know He is there. I feel like Christian walking through the Dark Valley.”

“The Dark Valley lay much lower than the Valley of Humiliation. It was narrow, and the black rocks seemed almost to meet over Christian’s head as he entered it. The evening was coming on, and the path was soon surrounded with a thick mist, so that he could scarcely see his hand when he stretched it out before him. Flashes of light kept breaking through the mist, but he did not know whether they were flames of fire or lightening, and the air was filled with terrible sounds, which made his heart beat fast with fear. By the light of the flames he saw that the path upon which he was walking was a very dangerous one. On his right hand there was a very deep hollow, and on his left a marsh, and it was all he could do to prevent himself from slipping into either one or the other.” – From Little Pilgrim’s Progress by Helen L. Taylor

Little Christian

The Dark Valley is of course The Valley of the Shadow of Death. Some days I have felt almost pressed to death due to difficult circumstances, but the more I am pressed, the more I pray. The more I pray, the more I read my Bible. The more I read my Bible, the more I am reminded that my King is powerful, he loves me, and I am never outside of his field of vision. When one enters the Dark Valley, one is overwhelmed by the sheer terror of it all, but once one cries out to God and experiences deliverance from a terrible fall, it becomes of place of indelible sweetness.

I was jogging the other day and listening to some verses when I heard something precious.

“There is none like God, O Jeshurun, who rides through the heavens to your help, through the skies in his majesty. The eternal God is your dwelling place, and underneath are the everlasting arms.” – Deuteronomy 33:26-27

These were some of the last words of Moses before he died as he sought to bless the Israelites before they entered Canaan, the land God promised to give them. Moses was not allowed to go into the land he had spent so long leading the people to, yet, He trusted the Lord for their deliverance.

God’s word has become so sweet to me. I have come to see that nothing else satisfies the soul the way the words in the Bible do. And not because they are just good words of affirmation or positive thoughts or good vibes, but because they are real and true. They testify to the realness of a God I cannot see but who ever lives to fill my heart with joy in the knowledge of Him.

Moses liked this turn of phrase which is why he repeats it in Psalm 90. “Lord, you have been our dwelling place in all generations.” And that is how I think of God now; my dwelling place. No matter how dark the days, how cold the nights, how bleak the future, “He is my rock, my fortress and my deliverer.” (Psalm 18)

“And now little Christian was comforted in his loneliness by hearing the voice of a pilgrim who was repeating aloud some of the beautiful words which were written in the King’s Book.”

Today if you are walking on a treacherous path, I pray that God will guide you to the Word that will quench your fears, lighten your darkness, and satisfy the deepest longings of your soul. His word is “Sweeter also than honey and drippings of the honeycomb.” (Psalm 19:10) May it fill you with joy and gladness of heart today–and every day.

Should I Join a Health Club?

I received an invitation in the mail one evening that peaked my curiosity. It was printed on shiny cardstock with white and purple lettering. In the upper left-hand corner was the image of a barbell. For only 10 cents and no long-term commitment, I too could be a member of a health club. The $10-a-month fee was so slim that even if I never actually used the membership, I wouldn’t have to feel guilty. I could say I belonged to the club and not actually participate. If one hates to exercise, that is a cool incentive.

For many years I thought only weirdoes joined a health club. This stems from an experience I had with joining a gym when I was 20 years old. I signed up for the $29 a month “special” because a friend told me “we” were fat and needed to lose weight. A month in, my friend and I got into a fight and stopped speaking to each other, but since I signed a contract, I kept going.

A totally buff, beach-bodied dude was assigned to teach me how to use to the machines, but since I was significantly overweight and hated exercise more than dangling off a cliff in my car, I was sorely intimidated. He was peppy. I was passive. He tried to motivate me, but the only form of physical movement I was interested in was escaping out the back door. Then I had a car accident, totaled my vehicle and stopped paying the fee. They sent me to collections and I developed an intense hatred for “gym rats”.

When I made the decision to live a healthy lifestyle, my attitude towards health clubs did not change. I lost 140 pounds by eliminating sugar, fast food and soda from my diet. For exercise I walked around the block. The initial exercise may not have burned a lot of calories, but it held me accountable to my food choices every day. As I lost weight, I fell in love with riding my bike and incrementally added other outdoor activities. I also purchased weights and a yoga mat, I grabbed exercise videos for use in my living room, but never once did I consider going to a health club. I was content to suffer through my “torture” routines in the confines of my private home where no one could hear or see me cry.

I stared at the invitation that had inconspicuously arrived in my mailbox. Normally I would just throw it away, but one of my friends recently joined that particular club. She bragged to me about the massage table that comes with a membership. I was intrigued. So I visited the website.

…but we have to kill the evil monkey.

As I looked through the pictures, I saw the long line of treadmills and shuddered. I pondered what 50 sweaty bodies in one room smells like and wondered what kind of disinfectant they use to remove the funk of the previous exercise enthusiast. Then I remembered Annabelle, my trusty workout companion. My boxer dog not only runs with me but helps with strength training by placing her ball on my back while I’m doing planks. We punish her “evil monkey” while I punish my body and somehow that makes it easier. How would she feel if she saw me trotting off to the gym? Imagine her sad face staring at me out of the window as I cheat on her with some unknown entity.

I suppose health clubs are a perfectly respectable means to an end, but I’m afraid I wouldn’t fit in there. Besides, I like my creaky elliptical machine. I know the rust spots are from my sweat and not from some beach body with a peppy attitude. And honestly, I like my belly jiggly during step aerobics—not all spandexed up so I can look cute. I enjoy the autonomy of breaking out into silly songs (like Larry) when I’m frustrated with my workout and the freedom to cry when I’m sad about sad things. But most importantly, I know I don’t need to spend the money to join a health club to get—or stay—in shape. My home gym may not have a massage table, but I do have a bathtub and a bag of Epsom salts. And that’s basically the same thing.

Maybe one day I’ll join a health club. Right after I hone my escape skills by hanging off a cliff in my car.