I’m not going to throw away my scale today but I am going to ask my husband to hide it.
A number has ruled my life since a fateful day in the 1st grade. The school nurse had lined up all the students to record our weights. There was no privacy screen, no separate room. One by one each child stepped up onto the scale. The nurse adjusted the weights and then told the number to her assistant who was recording the judgment. Err number. And not in a hushed voice either.
My number? 66. It is the first time I remember feeling humiliation over my body. Shame rose to color my face as I felt the number measure my value.
I remember other days, other numbers. 187. 165. 154. All with horror. More numbers. 142. 135. 128. Soaring on the wings of starved affirmation.
More numbers. 195. 172. 212. 186. 235. 242. 265. 202. 184. 177.
I don’t need the scale to tell me anything today. I know that the number it would reveal might make me cry. It’s a strange thing to feel your body grow. Again. I thought I was done! I’m not.
God’s invitation to me today is to boldly hand over the scale and to set my eyes only on him as the source of my value. To embrace that what I really want is to rest in his love, to care for myself as he longs for me to and to surrender the power of the number to the power of his grace.
I want to be strong. I want to pursue Jesus. I want my clothes to fit. I want to be free of shame more than I am today. I want to offer mercy. I want to fill myself up on the love of God and feast on the joy I find in his fierce, strong, eternal faithfulness.
Come here, Jesus. Redeem me here. Come for the little first grader, the desperate middle school teenager, the ashamed high schooler and the woman searching for love, connection and goodness in the pantry. I need you.
Losing the scale may not be a great decision for me. I’ll find out. But it may be the best thing I've done in quite a while. I’m inviting him to come for me. Want to join me in inviting him to come where you need him most to come for you?
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