About
Welcome to the Feeding Faith blog. If you’ve been following me on Facebook you know that I have been eating healthy and working out consistently since August 2009. Something clicked when I made the connection between food, fitness, and faith. Hence the title of this blog: Feeding Faith. I have come to learn that (for me) proper feeding of the body, the mind, and the spirit are inextricably linked to feeding and nurturing my faith each and every day. Though this blog is written from the Christian perspective, it is not intended to exclude my secular friends and my friends of other faiths. I abhor the arrogance of exclusion, especially when God is accused of it. My references to God and Christ, and my use of Biblical quotations are not meant to be proselytic, but are meant to demonstrate how faith can be lived in a way that crosses religious and secular borders. The definition of faith is universal and inclusive: Faith is the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen (Hebrews 11:1).
Initially this blog was going to be about food and fitness. I had mistakenly left faith out of the mix. I made many false starts beginning in January 2009. I would eat healthy for a few days and then inevitably return to making poor choices. I couldn’t figure out why. I was happy with my career. I had accomplished some long term goals that I set out to achieve in March of 2001 when I was released from prison. – Oh yes, for those of you who do not know me, I’ve made many bad choices in my life. Some of those choices caused me to acquire undesirable societal labels (in addition to that of “fat person”) such as “felon, ex-con, and criminal”. The shame of that experience alone has crushed many and might easily have crushed me, but it did not. By faith I rejected defeat and shame and vowed to help others do the same. The bible calls that “beauty for ashes” (Isaiah 61:3). But I digress. Back to my original train of thought…
I couldn’t understand why, after having overcome so much, I continued to be held captive, or imprisoned—if you will—by my own body. By June of 2009, I seriously considered weight loss surgery. I made an appointment for pre-surgical screening. When I arrived the nurse practitioner gave me the gruesome details about the surgery and explained the rigorous and restrictive dietary practices I would have to observe for the rest of my life. Even so, I signed on. I began the pre-surgery detoxification regimen (which is a liquid diet) in June 2009. Then something happened…..
As my body detoxified, my thinking process was clarified, and my faith in something both within and beyond myself was fortified. I decided to look, not to the skillful hands of a bariatric surgeon to free me, from myself but rather to look to the God to whom I have always looked to release me from the emotional, spiritual, and physical prisons I’ve been in over the course of these 50 years. “I will lift up my eyes to the hills— From whence comes my help? My help comes from the LORD, who made heaven and earth.” (Psalm 121:1-2)
One thing I now know for sure is that my obsession with food has nothing to do with physical hunger. There is a deep and abiding need in each of us to connect to something outside ourselves. We seek to fill that void with people and activity. I believe that there is a place in each of us that can only be filled, and a peace that can only be found, when we acknowledge our limitations and relinquish control of the things we hope for while having faith that something beyond ourselves is working on our behalf. Every bad decision I’ve ever made has probably been made in an effort to fill a void that I can never fill on my own. The frantic search to fill that void has haunted me and its terror has taken many forms.
I often tell a story about an oil painting that hangs in my living room. It is not a cheerful painting. Its color scheme consists mostly of muted grays and blues with little distinction between the background and foreground. In the center of the painting sits a large clay structure that resembles an abandoned prison. The building is surrounded by a series of ladders that seem to lead to nowhere. The scene is very cold and very empty. The sun is not shining. The sky is overcast with clouds. At first glance there appears to be no living creature in the painting: no people, no vegetation, and no animals.
When I first saw the painting in a gallery more than 20 years ago, I felt drawn to it because I thought the artist had crafted an image that represents my greatest fears. It was, to me, a concrete way to face those fears. I stared at the painting for several minutes and gradually noticed that in the center of the scene there is a hunched over women walking toward the deserted building. The woman (who is typically not noticed until I point her out to onlookers) appears to be searching for something.
I bought that painting more than 20 years ago because it served to remind me then, as it does today, to look in the faces of the people I pass by on the street and realize that they too are searching for things that they cannot yet see, searching for what lies at the top of ladders that seem to lead nowhere, searching for faith and hope. The need for connections to that which can feed our faith does not discriminate. It’s not limited to the woman in the painting—it is a universal and common human need experienced by people who live in the mountains of West Virginia and in the high rises of New York City. It is a need felt by residents of the mansions of South Hampton and tenants in the slums of Baltimore. It’s a need that is present in country clubs and homeless shelters, church houses and crack houses, state houses and jail houses, pulpits and pews.
Sometimes we meet that need by filling our lives with superficial activity and rituals. We jump from one activity to another, from one vice to another, from one addiction to another, from one relationship to another, from one job to another, and so on, seeking the magic solution. When we put our hope and faith only in that which we can see and touch disappointment is inevitable. Stock markets crash. Towers fall. Levees break. Institutions collapse. Mortgages foreclose. Relationships fail. It does not serve us well to live as though we can instantaneously see and touch everything we need and want.
I have been to the depths in my quest to avoid relinquishing control and acknowledging my human need for faith. You name it, I’ve tried it. I can hardly type these words through the teary mist evoked by both the memory of the pain attached to the struggle, and gratitude for the lessons I’ve learned and mentors who’ve guided me.
In August 2009, I became convicted in my spirit. I was guilty of neglecting my body – the temple that houses God’s creation. I made a promise to myself and to God. “This is the day. It stops now”. That’s a powerful declaration, I know. And I also know that declarations do not facts make. So what makes me believe that I can change my life now after years of trying to satisfy every human need with physical food and tangible substance? A mentor of mine once said, “When the pain becomes greater than the reward- you will make a change”. Well that day has arrived. The pain of being overweight has overtaken the anesthetizing effect of the comfort foods I have craved all my life. I eat and I still feel whatever it was I was trying to eat away: lonely, rejected, unattractive, misunderstood, unloved – all the stuff that gets in the way of being the glorious creature that I was created to be. By faith, I have found the courage to peel back the layers and confront whatever emerges from the dark so that it may be swallowed up by the light. I am not changing my life to be thin. I am changing my life to be whole. That’s the difference!
If I am to succeed in shedding the 125 additional pounds that keep me imprisoned in my own body, I cannot focus on food and fitness alone. I must feed my faith. I must feed it daily. The challenges I encounter, the lessons I learn and the revelations I receive will be revealed in a series of weekly blog posts called Feeding Faith and daily tidbits called Faith Snacks. I hope you’ll read, comment, and share. Come and dine with me. Feed your faith. All are welcomed at the table.
