What do these three things have in common? Quite a lot, though one might not think so at first. Let me explain.
I ate my first donut in at least ten years a few weeks ago. It was yummy. It didn’t feel any different than eating another food as an afternoon snack. It was filling, rich, and satisfying. I ate it slowly and enjoyed the thick texture of the dough with just the right amount of sweet glaze.
I felt an instant stomach-gut-dropping-anxiety-pang when someone walked by my office and I wasn’t sure if they’d interrupt me or not. This kind of anxiety comes up a lot when I’m eating at work—interruption is a frequent issue when you are one of the main go-to people for crisis situations. In a middle school, small moments of drama present as a major crisis so you can imagine this happens a lot.
I also typically feel some anxiety related to being judged for what I’m eating. It’s amazing how though I can cognitively recognize that someone will not judge me, and that it’s not a threat to my physical safety even if they did, I still have an automatic response of fear when someone “catches” me eating. The core belief is that I’m doing something wrong by eating—especially when eating foods that are typically labeled as “bad.” When this anxiety shows up without permission (as it always does, as it is not very polite), I have to tell myself that I’m not doing anything wrong and that someone judging me or thinking I’m weird for what or the amount I’m eating is their problem not mine.
I know that I am meeting my body’s needs by trusting my body to tell me what food(s) and the amount that I need in any given moment. My body knows how to tell me when I’m hungry and full, and I do my best now to listen and respond. I have to remind myself of this often—as anyone who has or had an eating disorder can testify: My mind is far more judgmental of my body size and food choices than my body ever is or has been. In fact, my body probably doesn’t have much of an opinion on what I eat and is happy to be fueled, doing its job to digest what I put inside it.
Getting back to donut eating—as I was enjoying this moment of freedom and victory, I kept thinking about what it means for my body to be presented as a living sacrifice to the Lord. My church completed 21 days of prayer and fasting in January while reading and studying through Romans 12. The topic of fasting could be an entire article in itself—on why it is inappropriate for many women, especially those with histories of disordered eating or trauma related to food scarcity and how I’ve not once heard this addressed by a pastor—but my focus here is more on what it means for my body to be a living sacrifice, as someone who has recovered from a decade long eating disorder.
While some in my church fasted sugar, meat or food altogether (which I have several issues with, but I’ll save that for another time), I enjoyed a donut in the middle of the day. Why is this so significant?
By eating a donut, I’m forsaking the misguided cultural mindset that demonizes all sugar, which of course includes donuts, and says that: “In order to achieve ‘perfect’ health you must give up all ‘bad’ foods.” This mentality deceives people into thinking that they can outsmart pain, sickness, and even death. “If I only eat X foods then I will always be healthy and never have to face cancer, or X sickness…”
We are sold the lie that we can cheat the harsh realities of life if we maintain optimal health, which is supposedly found in eating specific foods. In American culture, food is presented as a way to control the size of our body and our health. Both of these messages are false since food has never held this level of power nor was it intended to. Food cannot compete with God—His sovereignty, providence, and purposes in creation; the way He made us and interacts with our lives. Food can certainly have some impact on health and body size, but not nearly to the extent it is given, and it is often done so in disordered, unrealistic measures.
We live in a society where one is encouraged to manipulate the body in order to achieve a desired look. This kind of body—lean/fit/slim-curvy—is worshipped by our society, elevated and praised above all other sizes and shapes. We glorify those with this “ideal” body, giving them a position of power regardless of whether or not they possess experience or degrees qualifying them to hold such authority.
For instance, an Instagram model is considered a so-called “health expert,” giving her followers medical advice, because she meets this standard of beauty falsely associated with health. Yet, the young women following her may not recognize that her advice is anything but healthy, where she encourages others to engage in the same disordered, fear-based way of relating to food.
I took a bite of a donut that very ordinary afternoon with ease and peace because the fear of what it will do to me no longer haunts my every thought. In the past, the thought of eating one would have caused me so much anxiety and panic that I wouldn’t have even considered it. Yet now, eating a donut is an act of trust in the God who created my body and ultimately my life. My life is in submission to God alone.
I have to stop myself in moments of enjoying food and remind myself of how far I’ve come. I’ve almost begun to take my freedom for granted because eating all foods feels so natural to me now. Every now and then I take a step back and want to cry out of joy and amazement at the miracle of my healing. I can eat a donut without any guilt or fear, without dwelling on it for hours upon hours into the next day, and without planning my workout schedule around “making it up.” I didn’t have to follow a strict meal plan the next day or not eat at all that night or the following day. After eating a donut that afternoon, I went about the rest of my day completely as normal. What a gift it is to trust in a perfect, sovereign Savior, not living in fear or enslavement to food or my body.
In addition to adopting our culture’s rigid food rules, exercise has been a form of slavery for me bound in lies and fear. Many years ago, while stretching after a gym class, a woman leaned over and said to me “you’re here religiously.” It was an eye-opening comment because she was right, exercise was my religion. I was incredibly devoted to the pursuit of fitness in the name of health, though it was rooted in my desire to be thin and my desire to be thin was rooted in the lie that I needed to perfect the outside in order to be loved on the inside.
I sacrificed my relationships, my time and ironically my health, in the name of fitness. I worshipped the idol of beauty and lived for the praise that maintaining a particular physique gave me, though it was never enough, nor could it offer me what I truly desired—to be loved unconditionally. I used exercise to avoid deeper fears and insecurities, so I wouldn’t have to confront my emotional and relational needs, or face pain—past and present. Exercise was a way to numb out and disassociate from unaddressed root heart issues.
So then what does eating a donut and reevaluating the role of exercise in my life have to do with being a living sacrifice? Romans 12:1 reads: “I appeal to you therefore, brothers, by the mercies of God, to present your bodies as a living sacrifice, holy and acceptable to God, which is your spiritual worship.”
Eating a donut for me is an act of surrender, trust and faith. I don’t plan my life around exercise any longer or prioritize it over spending time with people. My body is for the Lord, not to manipulate, abuse, or hate, but to offer willingly to a merciful, holy God. Because of His great mercy extended to me in Christ, I no longer have to live in fear, hiding behind facades and pretenses in order to receive artificial and temporary love, or stand on a mountain of pride denying my needs out of self-protection and a false security.
I’ve heard it said that the majority of sin is seeking to meet God-given needs in ways that dishonor God and invalidate or distort those needs in the first place. I entrust my needs to God and ask Him to help me meet my needs in ways that honor Him—eating all foods, asking for help, and honoring my God-given limits when it comes to exercise, giving of self, and rest.
I worship God alone—not image, not the glorification of self, not the praise of man. The amazing thing is that I am most fulfilled when worshiping God. I don’t worship God for my fulfillment, but I find an indirect source of joy and life by submitting to my rightful place as a created being designed to love, know, and worship my creator. I think this is how God designed it all along; where we are most satisfied when the order of creation is in line with His intentions.