I’m Going to Marry Jesus’ First Cousin!

“I’m going to marry Jesus’ first cousin!”

These are the words I declared to my friend during a discussion on celibacy, marriage, sacrifice, and “doing it God’s way”. As usual, I was in a moment where I had let my impatience take over and I was speaking out of frustration, but I felt entitled! I was tired of being alone; I was growing anxious to meet the perfectly imperfect man God has for me.  I felt like if I was being obedient and sacrificing sex, companionship, relationships, cuddling, kissing, date nights, etc.- that the man who God has for me would and should be so Godly and strong in the Lord that he would be like “Jesus’ first cousin”. I figured that I was still waiting for God to finish molding this man just for me. I’m talkin’ ’bout a man who talks just like Jesus, serves just like Jesus, loves just like Jesus, walks humbly just like Jesus, worships just like Jesus, prays just like Jesus, and leads just like Jesus! Yep, that’s what I felt I was entitled to because I was being obedient and patient…well, not really patient. I had drawn him up in my mind- exactly how he should be and what kind of family he would come from and what his relationship with God would look like…

Then the Lord checked me.

See, the man I was envisioning was pure and clean and perfect. He didn’t have baggage or a past or skeletons in his closet because of course that would’ve made things messy and I wasn’t looking for a mess because I was one! I wanted easy, simple, clean: We meet-we court-we marry, all in a nice neat little package with a pretty pink bow on top. And since I had spent over an entire year being so obedient, I was entitled to such, right?

Wrong. Oh so very wrong…

It didn’t take long for the Lord to remind me of the steaming hot mess that I came out of…

I didn’t grow up in a Christian church; I didn’t save myself for marriage; I had numerous pregnancy scares with the men I had involved myself with; I hadn’t kept my body as a pure temple for the Holy Spirit. I was mean and frigid to strangers and didn’t trust anyone. I was proud. I didn’t honor my parents. I allowed my emotions to completely run my life. I had no accountability. I used to smoke, drink, fornicate, curse, lie, manipulate, struggle with addictions, get abused, abuse myself- I mean, I was ALL UP IN THE WORLD! Just stick my picture on a billboard for what a woman of the world looked like- I was Satan’s lil’ puppet! This kind of behavior and attitude lasted for years with different struggles dominating more than others at any given time.

But look at me now…

The majority of the time when I share my past with someone who has only known me since I’ve surrendered to Christ, they don’t even believe that the girl I just described was me. They just can’t see it (PRAISE GOD!). Unfortunately, I have way too many stories, life lessons that were learned and emotional scars for me to be  making it up or exaggerating. I actually have to convince them by sharing stories, showing pictures and becoming transparent beyond my comfort level. The thing is,  I really don’t even mind because every time I share my past, I get to share my present, which is strong and solid in Christ. People who listen to me and see me get to witness the transforming and renewing power of Christ. I have been delivered and redeemed for all my nonsense. The light of our Savior shines so bright in me that the shadows of darkness from my past can’t and don’t haunt me. So, if I am now this beautiful walking, talking, breathing example of His incredible redemptive work, how could I be so arrogant to dismiss the possibility of my future spouse having a similar story? Clearly I am NO ONE to be rejecting anyone with a messy past.

The more I thought about and reflected on everything in my past that my spouse will have to accept, the closer I got to a complete heart change. My initial desire for “Jesus’ first cousin” completely died and I realized that what I really wanted was a former hot-mess just like me! “Therefore I say to thee, her many sins have been forgiven, because she did love much; but to whom little is forgiven, little he doth love” (Luke 7:47). I am not above anyone else and I have to be willing to accept anyone with a past in the world as a new creation in Christ. I need someone relatable who will be able to accept who I was in the world because they too will have their own story of redemption. It was in this moment that I became willing to accept whatever man God created for me- even if that meant that he was a former serial killer, a single father, a man with a disease, a recovering drug addict, whatever messy past that had been put to rest, I became ready and willing to accept it.

Upon even further reflection, I came to the conclusion that the messier my spouse’s past is the greater potential our ministry has to reach those who are captives in the world. People in the world relate more easily to those who have shared in their life experiences. It feels more credible for a person who was previously caught up in fornication & redeemed, to be able to witness to a girl who is currently involved in it than for a virgin to try to relate to the emotional mess that is attached to the consequences of such a sin. My hot-mess gave God an opportunity to truly show His glory by the work that He did in me. My messy past + my husband’s messy past + God’s grace and salvation= the potential to impact the world in an absolutely incredible way. This is not to say that I’m out there looking for former serial killer rapist who was addicted to heroin to be my husband, but hey, if that is who God says is mine then let “what God joins together, no man separate” (Mark 10;9).

When I look around at the example that the world has set for relationships, and the way it defines love- I don’t want it. All the dysfunction, lack of respect, infidelity, break ups, broken families, broken hearts, single parents, STDs, nights of crying yourself to sleep, sad love songs on the radio….that’s not what My God says love is or how it’s suppose to look. That’s not what He intended for His children. The problem is that people have lost hope in each other and in themselves. The world has perverted love to the point that it is beyond recognition and people are left to try to define it for themselves. Singles look around at the selection and try to fish through the mess to find the “best of the worst”- whose mess can they tolerate the most? Without knowing the very definition of love (God), how could anyone be successful in finding Mr. or Mrs. Right? It grieves my heart to see what the world has settled for as acceptable and it is my prayer that my former hot-mess of a husband and I will be able to touch the lives of people who have not yet experienced the kind of love God has for them through our ministry, which will truly be born out of ashes.

God loves a Hot-Mess!

The Fat Girl with a Pretty Face and Long Hair

240 pounds. No, that’s not the weight of my pet baby elephant- that was MY weight about two years ago at the very end of 2009. I knew I had been packing on a lot of excess pounds but I blamed the holiday season and a guy who had been spoiling me to meals out at restaurants on a regular basis.The moment I stepped on the scale and saw the digital numbers flashing in my face, there was NO MORE room for excuses….I couldn’t afford to put on another ounce!

My God-Daughter’s 1st Birthday- September 2009

I would love to say that my heaviness was a new issue due to some stress or trauma in my life at that particular time however, I have struggled with my weight and size my entire life. In 4th grade I used to sit with my sweater across my lap so that my thunder thighs weren’t so noticeable as they tumbled and rumbled out of my uniform shorts. In 5th grade, my nickname was “Big Cat” and my fellow classmate made it a point to let me know that it wasn’t because I was tall (which I was). In middle school I had the body of a grown woman; at 12 years old I was 5’6″ and completely developed. I was on the thicker side but not necessarily chunky. Boys noticed me for my “developments” and so I felt attractive and wasn’t unbearably insecure because I was constantly having my womanly body commented on; this caused a lot of hostility and problems between my female peers and myself. In High School I began to put the weight back on in 10th grade. I still got plenty of attention from my male peers and from grown men. I used to flaunt my larger breasts as a way of distraction from my larger stomach that was sitting underneath them. People always told me I was pretty- they would compliment my eyes, my teeth, my smile, my long hair, or my over-exposed top part, but I never felt like a total-package. Ever heard of the term, “Butter face”?: everything about her is fine “But(her) face”!…well, I felt like a “Butter face” too, except I would’ve described myself as “Nothing about her is fine “But(her) face“.

When I studied abroad in Costa Rica in 2004, my host family would ask me, “Why are you so fat?” In 2005 I began dating my ex-boyfriend and at one point he slipped up and made the comment that he had never been with a girl of my size before- he was used to dating athletes and models…we were together for almost four years and my weight fluctuated throughout that time and because of his comment in the beginning of the relationship, it was always an insecurity that I carried. Whenever I started to chunk up he would “encourage” me to go to the gym or start some kind of fitness routine and to watch what I ate. When our relationship ended at the beginning of 2009, I went on an all-alcohol, no food diet. I was in a dark place, depressed and distressed and lost a good bit of weight for all the wrong reasons and in all the wrong ways.

December 2008

….after a month of hardly eating…February 2009

Once I got my act together (or at least started to try), the weight started to come back on…. several months after the split, I met someone else. I knew I was a little chubby at this point but he said he didn’t mind and he would affirm his attraction to me….more time went on and so did more weight. I used to ask the guy I was involved with if he would find me more attractive if I lost some weight (what an insecure, girly question, right?)…when we first met, he would tell me that I was fine the way that I was….several months and several pounds later, his answered turned from, “You look good the way you are” to “Well, I think YOU would feel better and be happier if you did.” (pretty safe answer, huh?) And even though his answer changed…my weight, did not go down. I grew…and grew….and grew. No matter what he said, I felt less “pretty” the rounder I got.

May 2009

I would see pictures of myself and be absolutely disgusted with what I saw. I would do any and everything that I could to try to make myself appear smaller in pictures before I would post them on Facebook or send them to anyone. I would look at my face and see the “pretty girl” disappearing behind the fat pockets that were expanding in my cheeks and chin. How would you even know I had glowing hazel eyes when they were hidden and sinking into a face of fat? It certainly didn’t help my self-esteem when all my friends were measuring in under 5’4″ and 120 pounds…ALL of them! I had a few that would tug at their SKIN and talk about how “fat” they were- if they thought that they were fat, then they MUST have thought that I was morbidly obese! In pictures, I not only towered over them because of my height and high-heel obsession, but I looked like I beat them up for their snacks and lunch money.

November 2009

No matter what social situation I was in, I always knew that I was just the “fat girl with the pretty face and long hair” so I accentuated these features with make up and hair dye as often as possible. I already knew that I would never be looked at as “the fine one” (which was defining and important to me at the time). There were times that I felt self-conscious to eat in front of or around other people because I felt that I looked like a barn animal stuffing my face. (I know this may sound overly-dramatic, but this is how I felt throughout these times.) I felt like my weight issue was a neon arrow pointing to all my insecurities, my lack of self-control and my over-indulgence in food and alcohol which was led by my inability to deal with my excessive emotions. What man would walk proudly with an over-weight giant dragging on his arm?? Who wants to go shopping with their “fat” friend that will only complain and get depressed that she can’t fit into “normal” sizes?

This was my life. I had defined myself as “The fat girl with the pretty face and long hair”. There were times that my weight would fluctuate and I would lose 15-25 pounds; I would feel great but then for one reason or another, the weight would come back. I wasn’t consistent in my healthy habits and when life’s unexpected hit, I would turn to food to comfort me. It wasn’t until I was miraculously healed from chronic knee pain in September 2010 (which is another story for another time or click the link to see my video testimony) that I was able to become consistent in the gym. I had a friend who was getting married in October of that year and I was a bridesmaid in the wedding. I intentionally bought my dress TWO sizes too small and told myself that no matter what, I would fit into that dress! I would work out twice a day, EVERY day and count calories like my life depended on it! My family even became concerned about my drastic change of habits and would often try to intervene ….but guess who fit into their dress?? 🙂

The fat girl became the chubby girl.

October 2010

When I was finaly able to see that I was more than capable of setting goals and accomplishing them, I became more consistent. I had no more excuses. My body was healed from asthma and chronic knee pain and it was my responsibility to take care of this temple that the Lord had given me stewardship over. Luke 16:10 states, “He who is faithful in a very little thing is faithful also in much…”. I needed to prove to God that I was thankful for my healing, that I FULLY RECEIVED IT and that He could trust me to be faithful in the small things. He took away every excuse I had and every limitation that I had put on myself. I was reminded that I AM FEARFULLY AND WONDERFULLY MADE (Psalm 139:14) and that I am NOT just “the fat girl with a pretty face and long hair”. I am perfect. I am made in God’s image and He has equipped me with all that I need to take care of, not only myself, but others.

January 2011

I can honestly say, that even if NO ONE ever reads this, it has meant so much for me to take the time to look back and reflect on how far i’ve come. I AM AN OVERCOMER! Food. Alcohol. My Emotions…they no longer control me! I am led by Christ, MY LORD & SAVIOR! He has saved me from myself and my co-dependency on food while healing me of all physical ailments that limited me. I will only look back to remind myself of where I came from so that I can praise HIM more! I can say with confidence and assuredness that I will NEVER go back to the place of being a prisoner in my own body again. The Holy Spirit now has a comfortable place to reside in this temple and I will only updgrade His dwellings- no more clutter, no more mess, no more extra! I am  dead to sin and sin will no longer rule or have control over my physical body. I AM PERFECT IN CHRIST.

January 2012 #Dechunkification is still a work in progress

March 2012

July 2012

(SIDE NOTE: I have recently been dealing with some health issues that have contributed to some of my more recent weight-loss however, clearly our God is still in the healing business and I am confident that whatever my body goes through or is made to endure, God will continue to get ALL THE GLORY!)

Fearful

I told myself that I am not leaving this computer until I have written something to contribute to this blog. It’s been almost three months. I am staring at the counter in the top right-hand of my screen that displays the number of people following my blog (which is Zer0…OUCH!), typing an opening statement, deleting it, typing a different one, deleting it as well, changing topics and fishing around in my mess of a brain for just the right words to share with the world. It’s not that I don’t have anything to say or that there is a lack of wisdom to impart, I just genuinely do not know where to start. I am not a writer.

I re-read my last and only two entries & they didn’t suck; in fact, “Every Starfish Matters” encouraged me in a refreshing new way and “Speechless” reminded me of why it has taken me so long to even attempt to write anything again. I was trying to use the excuses that I didn’t have a working laptop, not enough time in the day, I have insecurities of messy thought organization but none of these are valid excuses. I am capable; I am MORE than capable of doing this!

So why is it so hard?

As I look at the title of this blog, my phrase to live by, “Faith Conquers Fear”, I can’t help but chuckle at the irony. How ironic that it’s fear that stops me from putting my fingers to the keyboard and sharing my words- Fear that it won’t be good enough, fear that I won’t get my message across or that it won’t be clear, fear that my words are pointless, fear that people won’t be interested in what I have to say, fear that my posts will be filled with grammatical and punctuation errors. These are silly fears. Although in reality, I have NOTHING to fear, if I AM going to fear something, it should be- what if someone slips through the net of salvation because I DIDN’T share my words, my stories, my thoughts and reflections? What if someone doesn’t ask God to heal them because they haven’t heard the story of someone being miraculously healed by the blood of Jesus? What if someone is searching for encouragement that only my story could provide but I never write it? What if I have a reason to smile but don’t share it? What if I have the answer to a question that someone is too uncomfortable or doesn’t know how to ask?

God is more concerned with saving souls and exposing the world to His love, grace and mercy through HIS WORD than He is concerned with me being comfortable expressing MY WORDS. How arrogant of me to think that this was ever about ME and MY agenda in the first place.

Faith ALWAYS Conquers Fear.

“Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure. It is our light, not our darkness that most frightens us. We ask ourselves, Who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented, fabulous? Actually, who are you not to be? You are a child of God. Your playing small does not serve the world. There is nothing enlightened about shrinking so that other people won’t feel insecure around you. We are all meant to shine, as children do. We were born to make manifest the glory of God that is within us. It’s not just in some of us; it’s in everyone. And as we let our own light shine, we unconsciously give other people permission to do the same. As we are liberated from our own fear, our presence automatically liberates others.” -Credit Given to Nelson Mandela

Sure I may not spell everything correctly or use a semi-colon in the right way however, I asked God to use me. I asked God to make me a vessel for His Word, for His Light, and for His Love, so that it may be imparted upon as many people as possible. I WILL WRITE. I will write with authority! I will write with boldness! I shall not fear, my God is for me!

“The LORD is my light and my salvation,whom shall I fear? The LORD is the stronghold of my life,of whom shall I be afraid?” Psalm 27:1

Speechless

I find it a little ironic, almost humorous, that on the day I told myself that I was going to work on making entries to my blog, I lose my audible voice. I’m talking about, my voice is so GONE that even my best attempt at a whisper cannot be heard. So here I am, forced to communicate only through written words since my voice box is currently out-of-order.

The inability to speak has made it a very quiet day for me. No one is talking to or calling me because I cannot be understood. It puts me in a position to where I can only really listen to everyone else…and it’s not so bad. I realize that I actually hear a lot more and am able to truly listen to what is being said to and around me because the voice in my head is not already at work formulating my next response. Not only that, I certainly can’t argue against or refute anything that anyone says to me.

You see, one of my biggest insecurities is that I feel that I do not effectively express myself. Most of the time I feel like my mind is going a 1,000,000 miles/minute, thinking about 100 different things and I feel like often times, my words do not come out as well-organized thoughts. I feel as though I say too much, or I jump around without any flow; sometimes I will be talking about something and completely lose my train of thought and forget not only what I was about to say, but what I already had said. I feel like I repeat myself by saying the same thing 20 different ways because I want to make sure that the person listening to me is understanding exactly what I’m trying to say; I stutter, I stumbled, I lose focus, and I get frustrated. This often results in a mental shut down where I no longer want to say anything at all.

I remember, some one that I used to be involved with would get so frustrated with me because when he asked me, “What are you thinking?” or “What’s wrong?” my most common response was, “Nothing.”  Not because there was nothing on my mind, but because I didn’t know how to say it. Then I would come back hours or days later and bring back “old stuff” because I finally felt like I had formulated and organized my thoughts well enough to effectively communicate with him and have a real discussion. He took it as a way that I was trying to manipulate him with my words when I sincerely was just trying to say what I really wanted to say without it being loaded with emotion and a bunch of “extraness”.

Sometimes when I have something really important to say, or I’m planning a conversation with someone about something that has heavily been on my mind, I write it out in letter format first. That way I can read and reread it to myself, recognizing key points and eliminating any unproductive comments. Yes. My mind really is so scrambled that I have to do this. Writing “letters” also keeps me from allowing my emotions to send text message or e-mails that the “old Catharine” has been known to do and usually regretted. SMH…

Although I turn to writing when I don’t really know what to say with my words, I have my own insecurities there too. I am a product of the text messaging and instant messenger generation. When I write, instinct tells me that “going to” is “gonna”, “What are you” is “whatchu”, “sort of” is “sorta” and that all proper forms of punctuation are unnecessary. This causes quite the problem when I am attempting to write something to be published or read in a professional field. It’s as if all 15 years of educational training has slipped my mind. I write run-on sentences, I overuse commas, I’m unsure when to use a comma and a semi-colon, I know you’re not suppose to start a sentence with “and” or “but” – but I do it all the time, I use hyphens when I think I’ve already used too many commas and I’m quite certain that I make up words on a regular basis.

Yet here I am, writing a blog.

So, with all that being said, today is not only a day that I attempt to conquer my fear of writing, it is also a day of absorption. I’m taking in everything around me, using this time to read, listen, watch, and observe without contributing my own two cents since no one can hear me anyway. It’s actually a bit of a relief, almost relaxing, to just sit back and hush up for a little bit…but just a little bit.

“Every Starfish Matters”

A few months ago I made the decision to dedicate more time to reading. The first book that I picked up was “Weird” by Craig Groeschel. It’s an amazing book that is easy to read and filled with humor; I have been recommending it to any and every one who will listen to me and who loves Jesus. One section of it really stuck out to me and keeps popping up as I continue my struggle to find my purpose and place in the world:

“Every Starfish Matters”

 

     One day an older gentleman was strolling down the beach and saw a young boy frantically picking up stranded starfish and throwing them back into the ocean. Noticing hundreds, if not thousands, of displaced starfish washed up on the shore, the polite gentleman laughed softly as he approached the eager boy. “Hey there, youngster,” he said compassionately. “You really shouldn’t waste your time. There’s too many of them. You’ll never be able to make a difference.”

     Looking up, the boy held a single starfish in his palm and suddenly hurled the creature full force back into the ocean. “I made a difference to that one!” he said and continued on his mission.

     When you break out of the normal mode and allow your burden to grow, chances are good that it will feel futile at times. You’ll hear a voice chiding, “you might as well give up. You can’t change anything. What difference is that really going to make?”

     When you hear this voice of doubt, remember, you can’t do everything, but you can do something. Every Starfish Matters.

     As your burden grows, as it begins to break your heart and open your eyes, don’t hesitate to take action. Like Nehemiah, you might weep, fast and pray. Then get up and do something about it. Ask for help. Raise money. Take a trip. Write a chapter. Start a blog. Foster a child. Become a Big Brother. Launch a ministry. Do something. You can’t do everything. But you can do something.

     Years ago someone wrote this powerful prayer. It’s my prayer for all of us who long for more than gratification or normal blessings.

May God bless you with discomfort at easy answers, half truths, and superficial relationships, so that you may live deep within your heart. May God bless you with anger at injustice, oppression, and exploitation of people, so that you may work for justice, freedom and peace. May God bless you with tears to shed for those who suffer from pain, rejection, and starvation, so that you may reach out your hand to comfort them and to turn their pain into joy. And may God bless you with enough foolishness to believe that you can make a difference in the world, so that you can do what others claim cannot be done. May God bless you with the weirdest blessing possible- his divine burden.

 

 

 This short excerpt changed my life and gave me hope and encouragement to never give up on the little things and to move when God tells me to move, no matter how giant the task, assignment or obstacle I’m facing seems.

I have always been the kind of person trying to “save the world” and save people from themselves. Not in a way where I’m trying to be a savior- Jesus is the ONE and ONLY, but I strive to make a change, to make a difference, to stop one person from making a detrimental decision on their own, to bring a smile where someone didn’t think there could be one, to provoke laughter, to spark joy, gratitude and kindness, to give a way out,  to not just inspire but to influence, to be a light in the darkness, to drive out loneliness and hopelessness, to be a helping hand when no one else would, to show love to those who were rejected, to provide and give my last to those who have none, to go the extra mile, to not be Christ but to be as Christ-like as I can be!

My dad used to always tell me that I shouldn’t carry the burdens of those around me because I’ll weigh myself down and stress myself out. Whenever I had a friend hurting, I was hurting. Whenever they had a dilemma, I wanted to help  them with the solution. Sometimes I was more concerned with the situation of others than they were themselves. I’ve always been that way. And so many people used to tell me to stop, to look out for #1 (myself), to let them learn and do it on their own because at the end of the day people are always going to be more concerned with their own well-being than the well-being of others. But I disagree. Why not help, even if all I can do is bring a single smile during a storm? So what if my efforts go unnoticed, unappreciated or don’t bring about any real solution? At least I did SOMETHING; at least I TRIED; at least I invested in a life other than my own. I don’t do for others with the hope that they’ll return the favor later. I do what I do because that’s what makes ME happy. Groeschel’s words, “Do something.You can’t do everything, but you can do something.” brought comfort to my spirit; they revived the desire to reach out and touch lives- to make a difference in places where it seems impossible to bring a change. He blessed me with enough “foolishness” to believe that I can do what others say can’t be done.

I often get teased for being a very sensitive person and crying easily. Commercials, stories, songs, movies, pictures, pretty much anything can provoke tears out of me. However, I’ve come to the conclusion that it’s not just because I’m a  big baby, but because the needs and sufferings of others is part of my burden and I will always empathize, always want to help, always want to DO SOMETHING.

When we see things in the world like starvation and poverty, the millions of women and children  being trafficked across the world, war-torn countries and corruption in the governments, all the unwanted babies and children either being aborted or abandoned, the elderly getting taken advantage of and being abused, the increase in criminal activity and incarceration of our youth, amongst the many other injustices of our time, it is easy to feel overwhelmed; it’s easy to feel like there’s too many problems, they’re too big to stop or make a difference, but if we can see the individuals in the majorities it makes it a little more personal, a little more manageable. Every starfish matters. Do something.

 “Let us not grow weary in doing good, for at the proper time we will reap a harvest if we do not give up.” -Galatians 6:9