Faith not Sight

And stepping off that scale, ready to melt, I realized this is the real part of the recovery where it's just me and God.

Three numbers crunched together on a scale. Three little numbers together changing the course of my day from boundless lovely to a squashed defect. And I felt once again the all-too-familiar sting of defeat as I stepped off that scale in my doctor's office.

Satan and his seductive lies are so sneaky, visiting at the most unexpected times when all is perfect and you and God are holding hands skipping through wildflowers and whistling carefree.

How can I rejoice in this?! I ask Him. How can I consider this all joy?!

What an extraordinary chance to live faith. The part of the recovery where faith is blooming all over my story and it has really come to life in all intensity and truth. 

For so much of my recovery was living by faith and sight. Numbers on scales and blood tests and heart rates. But the two are not synonymous, rarely resonating, and not the real faith.

For in this hope we are saved. But hope that is seen is no hope at all. Who hopes for what he already  has? But if we hope for what we do not yet have, we wait for it patiently."
-Romans 8:24-25

This beautiful mess of the end of my recovery is just me and God. No one else can see what God is doing in my heart, the healing of my mental process-- not even myself. Truly closing the eyes and loosening the grip and falling backwards with a smile because I know full well that a Savior has arms outstretched behind, stronger than ever, going to unimaginable lengths just to hold me before I hit rock bottom.

And all of a sudden the wavering lip breaking into sobs becomes a smile. Peace begins to reign in His kingdom, and faith is known more deeply, more intimately, than ever before.