by Teasi Cannon
May 20, 2003
Okay, I'm up again (on the scale) and wanting to be healthier and lose some weight. My goal is to lose twenty pounds. I think that would be a good weight for me. I need to set realistic goals. I'm not really sure how to eat. I'm confused, but I do know that I love exercise. So, I'm going to say six days a week I need thirty minutes of aerobics. Then I need to make sure I'm drinking enough water.
April 12, 2005
Well, there are some things I want to do for myself. I don't really know how to make this time different than the rest of my attempts, but I've got to try. I've gotten myself up to a size 16–18. I'm not really happy at this size. I want to be a 12. I know I will feel much more like myself at that size. I think a plan that will be good for me is to walk five days a week for thirty minutes or more and substitute shakes and snack bars for meals.
MISSING THE GOOD STUFF
I prayed for answers. I confessed every sin I could imagine might be responsible for my fat. I asked people about deliverance ministry, thinking that maybe there was a demon responsible for my misery that needed to be sent packing. Sometimes I went to the other extreme and secretly wished for some demon of thinness to possess me. Even if it meant having dark circles under my eyes and spinning my head in true Linda Blair (of Exorcist fame) fashion, at least I would be skinny. (Can you believe how crazy it got?) And I fantasized about a day when some well-meaning friend would look me straight in the eyes and say, “Teasi, you really need to eat.”
Even more ridiculous is the fact that my obsession with fat and failure robbed me of a lot of the good in my life. On family vacations, on dates with Bill, at parties…everywhere…I was always aware of my weight, and that awareness kept me from truly living.
It did not matter what I might have been doing right. Someone might say, “Teasi, you are such a great mom.” But I would immediately think to myself, “Yeah, but I'm fat.” Or they'd say, “Thank you so much for your prayers. You are such a great friend.” Again I'd think, “Yeah, but I'm fat.”
My issue with weight was the undercurrent of my whole life.
LORD, TAKE ME
Whether you think I was crazy or not, I did. And because things never seemed to change for me this side of heaven, I started wanting to cross to the other side. My failures with weight and victorious Christian living left me aching to talk to God face to face. I wanted answers. I wanted relief. I wanted my heavenly body. I wanted it so badly that I spent more time than I should have contemplating death.
I did not want to count my blessings. I did not want to renew my mind. I wanted to get away from myself. I wanted to escape Trainer and Sabby and Reflection. I wanted freedom. I wanted peace. I wanted to drink Clorox and let it take me away. But I couldn't. I didn't want my babies to find me like that.
I would have to continue living, but something had to change. If it couldn't be the size of my hips, then it needed to be something. Anything.
TURNING POINT
I felt miserable and, honestly, quite hopeless. Then something deep inside—some inner mechanism hidden beneath the mountains of self-effort and walls of self-protection—surrendered. I was reduced to the only thing I knew to be true: I believe there is a God. It was neither grand in its wording nor magical in any way, but this next journal entry marked a turning point for me—one with significance I would not fully understand for quite some time.
April 10, 2006
I really don't have words, but I'm here again—wanting change—needing freedom and success—lasting success.
I pray today for healing in the deepest recess of my heart and soul—healing in whatever wounded mechanism keeps me defeating myself. I give it to You, Lord. I love You, and that's about all I do know. I have no plan today except to hold desperately to You. I am Yours.
I didn't know it at the time, but I can see now that this was the journal entry God was waiting for. Instead of asking God to help me get skinny, I asked Him for healing.
WHAT ABOUT YOU? WORLDLY DESIRES DIVULGED
When you look at the covers of magazines, what kinds of things go through your mind?_________________________________________
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How do you compare yourself to the women on the covers of magazines? _______________________________________________
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Do you ever say, “I wish I had _________ like she does?” If so, what is it that you've desired? _____________________________________
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Be really honest now. Do you see your worth or value in terms of these things. For example, do you think you are actually worth more when you weigh less? Or do you think you are a more valuable person when you have more valuables in your possession? ____________________
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What do you think God would say about your last answer?
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You might not have Sabby (the one who always tries to sidetrack you) in your head, but you probably hear a voice like hers. Have you ever heard anything from her just when you were trying to do something God's way instead of the world's? For example, just as you were trying to love yourself as you are, Sabby might say, “But it wouldn't hurt to just get a few nips and tucks”—setting you right back on vanity's trail. What does she say to you? a. SABBY: _______________________________________________________
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b. YOU: _________________________________________________________
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Make an honest list of the worldly things you want:
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PEP TALK: WE'RE ALL TEMPTED
This world has a lot of tempting things to offer us. Money, looks, clothes, luxury minivans with widescreen TVs and reclining leather seats that swivel all the way around that can be easily stowed below for extra storage space. (Sorry for that little walk down desire lane). The fact is we're all tempted. Jesus was tempted. Temptations are nothing to feel bad about. It's when those temptations become desires that problems arise.
The desires of our hearts can lead us to either life or death. When we start to long for the things of this world, we will always feel disappointed. We aren't made for this world. The world is all about the things that are fading away, and we are made to be all about eternity. Taking an honest look at the things we're longing for is a great step toward realigning our desires before they get the best of us.
FORWARD FOCUS: DESIRES
Psalm 37:4—Delight yourself also in the LORD, and He shall give you the desires of your heart.
M
atthew 16:24—Then Jesus said to His disciples, “If anyone desires to come after Me, let him deny himself, and take up his cross, and follow Me.
Matthew 16:25—For whoever desires to save his life will lose it, but whoever loses his life for My sake will find it.
Mark 4:19—And the cares of this world, the deceitfulness of riches, and the desires for other things entering in choke the word, and it becomes unfruitful.
Mark 10:44—And whoever of you desires to be first shall be slave of all.
Galatians 5:24—And those who are Christ's have crucified the flesh with its passions and desires.
Ephesians 2:3—Among whom also we all once conducted ourselves in the lusts of our flesh, fulfilling the desires of the flesh and of the mind, and were by nature children of wrath, just as the others.
2 Timothy 4:3—For the time will come when they will not endure sound doctrine, but according to their own desires, because they have itching ears, they will heap up for themselves teachers.
James 1:14—But each one is tempted when he is drawn away by his own desires and enticed.
James 4:1—Where do wars and fights come from among you? Do they not come from your desires for pleasure that war in your members?
Revelation 22:17—And the Spirit and the bride say, “Come!” And let him who hears say, “Come!” And let him who thirsts come. Whoever desires, let him take the water of life freely.
FOUR
OPENING A LOCKED HEART
We all have blind spots, don't we? Things we just don't see? Sometimes it's a trail of toilet paper stuck to our shoe. Sometimes it's a limited perspective that keeps us a creature of self-defeating habits. Either way, thank God for people who will give it to us straight—the ones who, no matter how awkward it will feel, have the guts to say, “You've got something green on your tooth.” They are the ones who love us enough to save us from ourselves.
Bill has always been one of those people for me, and back when I was barely hanging on, his willingness to confront me saved my life. Having seen all he could of my pain/craziness, and knowing I desperately needed a mental adjustment, Bill made the decision to take me to get help. No, he didn't take me to get a partial lobotomy (though he might have considered it); he took me to…a seminar.
I'm sure you can imagine how excited I was for this opportunity (not!). Actually, it would be an understatement to say that my heart just wasn't into making this trip. Not only was I hesitant to leave the kids, but the title of the weekend's agenda did nothing to entice me: “Experiencing the Father's Embrace.” My personal translation of this title was, “Getting a hug from God.” Sweet as that sounded, I was desperate, and a hug wasn't going to save me. I needed a mountain-moving miracle. I needed an overdose of hope—some supernatural intervention to keep me living. But Bill was insistent, so we (Bill, me, and old reliable Sabby) loaded up the car bound for Chicago.
IS THIS A JOKE?
After a nearly nine-hour trip, we finally made it to our hotel, which was also the venue of the conference. We were just in time for the first session of the weekend.
Finding our seats, I tucked my Bible under my chair, crossed one leg over the other and my arms across my chest. (My body language expressed my feelings quite well.) My expectations for a good outcome were about as high as a kite still in its wrapper. Bill, on the other hand, was all smiles. So was just about everyone else around me.
The night began with a worship band playing a familiar song. And that's where the familiarity ended. All around me, unexpected displays of joy erupted, startling me out of my futile attempt to block out my surroundings. Sabby was startled too.
SABBY: What on earth? Do you see those kids over there?
FAT CHRISTIAN WOMAN: Yes. I see them.
SABBY: Why are they waving flags around? That is so inappropriate. Where are the parents?
FAT CHRISTIAN WOMAN: I don't know. I didn't know this was a kid event.
SABBY: And look at that woman in front of you. What kind of dancing is that? Where's her pole?
FAT CHRISTIAN WOMAN: I don't know. Just stop looking at her.
I began to have that “We're not in Kansas anymore” feeling and really wanted to bolt. I was used to demonstrative worship at my home church—loud singing and arms raised to God—but I'd never seen this kind of stuff. Thankfully, I can more than appreciate the beauty of diversity in the Body of Christ now, but in that moment I was not in the mood to be tolerant. I didn't want to be stretched.
Just when I was contemplating making a quick getaway, the worship ended and someone took the podium to speak. Everyone sat down, making it impossible for me to slip away unnoticed. So, I looked over at Bill, rolled my eyes so that he'd be sure to see I wasn't amused, and crossed my arms even more tightly across my chest. Nothing was getting in.
Then the speaker was introduced. “Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome Mr. Jack Frost.”
SABBY: What? Are you kidding me? Oh, this is rich.
FAT CHRISTIAN WOMAN: Yeah, I agree. I thought we were in Chicago, not the North Pole.
SABBY: Hilarious! Maybe Frosty the Snowman will come out next.
FAT CHRISTIAN WOMAN: All right. Stop. We're not being nice.
SABBY: Seriously, Teasi. This is so stupid. I can't believe Bill, of all people, would bring you here. After this session, you should leave.
FAT CHRISTIAN WOMAN: I was just thinking that myself.
JUST ONE MORE SESSION
Physically trapped, emotionally distraught, and mentally irritated, I sat and listened to Mr. Jack Frost begin his tale. He'd hardly spoken for five minutes when I made up my mind that the next two hours of my life would be a total waste. What could this man—a retired sea captain, of all things—say that could change the course of my life? What could we possibly have in common? It was hopeless.
Because I couldn't leave, I continued to listen. Eventually I had to admit that the man's transparency was keeping a bit of my attention. He was being so honest—revealing things about his own pain and suffering that most people don't usually admit to. He spoke of his abusive and dysfunctional upbringing and how it hurt him. He talked about the mistakes he'd made with his own children and his wife. He confessed his pride and arrogance. He put it all on the table.
And then he talked about the Father's embrace—that “sweet little hug from God” I thought this conference was all about. Only the embrace he described was far more than a simple hug. It was a life-altering power that had transformed every part of Jack Frost's existence. It was the mother of all paradigm shifts that reset the course of his life. It was the mountain-moving miracle for which I was so desperate. He had my full attention.
Two hours passed by much more quickly than I thought it would, and once Mr. Frost concluded the session, he opened up the night for prayer. First he prayed for everyone corporately—a prayer filled with so much love and understanding that almost immediately people all around the room began to cry. I could tell hearts were being touched in significant ways. It seemed that God was speaking to nearly everyone around me. These people were getting what they came for: healing, love, and a touch from God. But I was feeling nothing.
Oh, how I wanted to experience something—a sensation that would prove to me God was aware of my pain. I looked at Bill and asked—no, implored—“Why don't I feel anything? Where is God for me?”
Desperate to get me help, Bill approached Mr. Jack Frost himself and asked him to come pray for me personally. I was hurting too much to be embarrassed when the man finally made it to me. If this is what it would take to get God's full attention, then by all means bring Jack Frost on over!
Bill gave a quick explanation of my situation while Mr. Frost sat there calmly. I felt certain he would lay hands on me immediately once he heard of my excruciating emotional pain, but he just sat there listening. No look of concern. No bewildered exclamation of, “Oh, my, child…how have you made it this far in life?” Nope. Just a steady expression of peace and a simple prayer.
As he prayed I
kept waiting for it—waiting for the sensation of power to flood through my body. Waiting for my pulse to quicken. Waiting to lose consciousness. Waiting for…well, anything different. But, nothing came. Nothing.
Far beyond worrying that I might hurt the man's feelings, I let him have it. “I am feeling nothing!” I said. “I don't get it. Why don't I feel anything? The prayer is not working.”
I thought for sure he was going to tell me that I wasn't feeling anything because I was desperately lost. That mine was a case like none other, and that there truly was no hope for me. But that's not what he said. Although what he did say wasn't much better, it got me thinking. He simply said, “It doesn't matter if you feel it or not. The truth is still the truth.” He added, “Some people run into the deep end of the water and dive in head first. Others wade in slowly. But everyone gets in.”
After delivering his disappointingly ambiguous message, he patted my shoulder and stood to walk away. Still no change—well, maybe just one. I decided I would come back for another session.
WHAT YOU LEAST EXPECT
There is an Old Testament story about a mighty warrior named Naaman. He is the captain of the army of the King of Syria, and he is considered a very honorable man. In fact, Scripture says that the Lord used this man to deliver Syria from the hand of its enemies. But there is a big problem with him: he has leprosy.
One day, Naaman gets word via an Israelite servant girl that there is someone back in Israel who can heal him of his disease. When given permission to go on this journey, Naaman heads straight to the King of Israel himself for his healing. The king is disturbed by the request, to put it lightly. In fact, the Bible says the king tears his clothes and says some crazy stuff. But nearby the prophet Elisha is listening, and he tells the king to calm down. “Send the guy to me,” he says (in more elegant words, of course). “I'll show him that there's a prophet in Israel.”
