When I was a kid, my little brother told me frogs wouldnít know they were getting boiled alive until the very last minute, when they notice they are suddenly unable to breathe. Then they hop and jump around in a frenzy and they try to live. But itís too late by then. Death crept up on them so slowly and secretly. That is how the moment crept up on me.
It started out healthy enough. Surely there wasnít anything wrong with wanting a slimmer, more toned body. It was a great goal and I knew I was sure to win with the right combination of effort: sleep. Exercise. Eat very little. Crunches. Sit-ups. Push ups. An easy one plus two equals three equation, I had a guaranteed win here. I had no doubt of my winning ability, and I never once thought God needed to be involved. Not even once, that is, until I found I couldnít breathe and I couldnít see and I was utterly helpless. Boiling alive, that is.
The moment can be likened to the sudden realization that something has broke loose and that you are not connected to anything substantial, but free-falling through the air, vulnerable and lost. Maybe that is why newborns cry so horribly, they have been disconnected from the only source they knew; it is terrifying.
The source I was using for fuel was a big black bag of fear. The fear of not being beautiful or in control or valuable filled my mind when I slept. It whispered in my ear and gently pushed me forward. It guided my every step, and like the electricity must go forth from the socket, I let myself go unrestrained. It was a very easy and uncomplicated journey. My mind held tightly to this powerful force until it finally failed me, and I was left feeling bereft and trembling with certainty that I needed something stronger. I knew that God needed to be this source, this constant reason for every breath I took. I knew that my mind had to be renewed and only then would I see the transformation I desperately yearned for. I needed to be infused with the spirit if God and the truth offered there.
The transformation came slowly, but I didnít care because this was my only way out. The time passed as slowly as it took my mind to adjust. Little by little, and day by day, I scratched my way out of this tunnel, now freshly infused with the spirit of God. He showed me the beauty and capability and value of myself despite myself. I saw that I was who I was because of Him, and nothing else. I was not beautiful because of something I had done, but for the simple fact that I originated in His will and I came into being on account of His awesome Hand. Contrary to popular belief, my life was not about me, but about God. And everything I did would either revolve around Him or find its end in death.