The Doorway

A dear friend of mine told me this week, “You are standing in a doorway not a tunnel, just a few more steps and you will be there.”

Where is there you ask?



There is the stuff of my dreams. A land with fewer headaches, muscle aches, and heart aches. A land:

1. where truth is heard louder than lies,
2. free fear of abandonment and filled with trust reborn
3. saturated with God’s presence and love

There is the true land of plenty… where I am no longer hungry, alone, and afraid.

Fear has told me time and again that there does not exist. “There is a fairytale. Here is all that exists.” one day she whispers and then the next, “why would God allow a girl like you to ever go there?”

I am ashamed to admit that for the past years I have been buying her lies once again. Since middle school she has been a relentless tormentor of my soul. She makes her voice sound so much like my own that I am fooled into believing her lies are my own thoughts and desires. Even when I can recognize the constant deceit dripping from her tongue-

I can’t silence its ping. ping. ping. ping. ping…

I am four years in recovery and Fear still tells me I am:

• a shallow girl,
• only decorative—empty on the inside,
• socially discardable,
• undeserving of nourishment,
• always going to be hungry,
• too weak to win this.

I got so tired of fighting these lies that I gave up, ran to the corner, and covered my ears--- “you’re right. I will never be wholly free. The thoughts in my head are too twisted, my body too conditioned to fear gaining weight, to completely kick this thing.”

This week my friend’s words reached me here in my corner-of-doubting-the-Father’s-love. She challenged me that it is really not so many steps from here to there. The journey to here has been difficult. Four years ago Jesus met me in the clutches of a disorder that fragmented my emotions, disfigured my body, and was slowly driving my mind towards madness. People may think this melodramatic, but I know He stood in the way of death. He held out his hand to me—a throw away girl, a basket-case in the middle of her final breakdown, and pulled me of the mire of self-hate Fear had sucked me into.

You’d think after getting in so deep with an eating disorder that I needed divine intervention to save my life I would make a speedy exodus from my task-master once out of the pit.

But at the top of the pit was a pitch black room and though I could not see them I knew from the yowling, the whispers, the crying; that surrounded me in all directions that Jesus had lifted me into my own Valley of the Shadow of death. His voice, his message has been constant: “follow me. follow me into all the things that most terrify you about yourself.”

It is my voice that has wavered. One day the dark will not be so scary and I will confidently follow the voice that leads in darkness. I will begin to believe that we are finally gaining ground. Then the next day Fear will hit me hard again and again--- forcing me to retreat. So like the children of Israel wandering around the desert I have wandered--- only four years so far, but it may as well be forty.

I got free enough to keep people [besides my husband] off my back. I have continued to control Fear to the point of maintaining weight—not health. I survive in a perpetual state of headaches, confusion, and fatigue, but here’s the real rub my heart is broken in this struggle. Fear has never ever relaxed her grip on my heart. I’ve just learned to cling to a faith that allows me to limp towards another day.

As I have talked with friends over the last couple of weeks I have realized (1) that I am truly not at a healthy point in my thinking, and (2) this poisoned thinking is not my heart.

No matter how hard the lies batter my soul they simply are not true. I don’t want control. I don’t want to live my life fearfully protecting my needs or guarding my wounds. I know anorexia is empty and I hate it. I do believe that the name of Jesus is exalted above the lies of this culture. I know I am a daughter of God. He has given me a beauty that captivates his eye and a purpose that both transcends this life and is lived in the nitty-gritty details of serving the disabled and loving my family. These are not empty words, but truth that nourishes my starving soul and hope that gives me strength enough to walk through the door.

As I work the courage to try again in this area I keep thinking about something I read in the Message:

God means what he says. What he says goes. His powerful Word is sharp as a surgeon's scalpel, cutting through everything, whether doubt or defense, laying us open to listen and obey. Nothing and no one is impervious to God's Word. We can't get away from it—no matter what.

Now that we know what we have—Jesus, this great High Priest with ready access to God—let's not let it slip through our fingers. We don't have a priest who is out of touch with our reality. He's been through weakness and testing, experienced it all—all but the sin. So let's walk right up to him and get what he is so ready to give. Take the mercy, accept the help.

Reading these words now I remember that Jesus wasn’t the one abandoning me in the dark. Though I haven’t always been able to see what He is up to, I have heard his voice calling out, “this is the way,” and “don’t be afraid Sarah, I will never leave you.”

And He hasn’t.

So this time I am going to muster enough courage to follow His call. This time it’s going to be different. God helping me this time I will break all ties with Fear. I will step through the door-way into freedom---and keep my eyes on Jesus knowing that He loves to give me the grace and help in my time of need.