“God, help me trust in Your love for me, just as I am, and to see my worth through Your eyes.”
Before I turned 12, my body was simply the vessel that carried me through life. I didn’t give it much thought unless something went wrong, like when I got sick. Back then, we spent hours on the phone, stretching the cord around corners to find privacy from our parents. Somehow, I ended up with the phone number of a girl named Karen. I can’t remember how or why, but we had never met. Despite that, we spent a lot of time talking, and I genuinely enjoyed our conversations. She seemed to as well, judging by how often and how long we talked.
Then, during our last conversation, Karen told me she didn’t want to talk to me anymore. Apparently, she had either seen a picture of me or heard from a friend that I was "fat and ugly." It was in that moment that I became acutely aware of my body, and Karen's words marked the beginning of my lifelong obsession with my weight. She offered me the apple, and I ate it all.
For over 40 years, I lived in a constant state of hypervigilance about my body. I tracked calories, counted every pound, and spent far too much time critiquing myself in the mirror. I was always dieting, always searching for something that would make me feel “enough.” Though no one else noticed, I was obsessed with my appearance. My body became a battleground.
Things shifted slightly when my youngest child was born. As I entered middle age, my motivation to focus on my health and fitness changed. It wasn’t about vanity or self-punishment anymore; it was about being a better father, living a life that allowed me to show up fully for my family, and improving my long-term health.
I started with yoga, which gave me a little confidence, and that led me to meet a graduate assistant who worked as the personal training coordinator at a local college. He helped me begin weight lifting, which, combined with some portion control, helped me lose enough weight to improve many of my health markers. Despite this, my BMI still categorized me as obese, but at least my health was better.
I didn’t stop there. I drove to a bariatric doctor in Pennsylvania for a year and eventually received a prescription for Ozempic. However, it came with a cost. Dehydration landed me in the emergency room after suffering severe diarrhea. I switched to Mounjaro, which helped me stabilize my weight around 197 pounds.
Despite all my efforts with prescription medications, professional help, motivation, weight lifting, and cardio, I remained “healthy but obese.” I couldn’t shake the feeling that something was missing. I was stuck in a cycle of frustration and insecurity. The constant pressure to fix my body weighed on me, and no matter how hard I worked, my body never seemed to cooperate. I tracked every meal, exercised diligently, and sought professional guidance, but even when I made progress, the scale never reflected the results I hoped for. My weight remained stubbornly high, and I couldn’t escape obesity.
One day, my daily reading for Lent included the suggestion: “Identify areas where you need healing, and ask to be healed.” In that moment, I realized the healing I needed wasn’t just physical. It was emotional and spiritual. I had been carrying trauma in my body for decades, and I couldn’t keep ignoring it. I needed God to heal me, to release the trauma I had lived with for so long.
I prayed, asking God to heal my relationship with my body. And then I asked myself, “What if I just gave up and trusted God to handle it?”
And so, that’s what I did. I made a decision to surrender. I chose to trust God’s plan and let Him heal me in a way I never could on my own.
I created a daily scriptural reminder and prayer to help shift my focus from my body, the scale, and the labels that had held so much power over me.
Psalm 139:13-15 says,
For it was you who formed my inward parts; you knit me together in my mother’s womb. I praise you, for I am fearfully and wonderfully made. Wonderful are your works; that I know very well. My frame was not hidden from you, when I was being made in secret, intricately woven in the depths of the earth.
And in Ephesians 2:10, we are reminded,
“For we are what he has made us, created in Christ Jesus for good works, which God prepared beforehand to be our way of life.”
This is a new chapter in my life where I am choosing to trust in God’s love for me just as I am. I am choosing to see my worth through His eyes, not through the number on a scale or the reflection in the mirror.
From this day forward, I am covering up the number on my scale. I’ll still track my progress, but I won’t let it define me. It will collect the data, but I don’t need to look at it unless I get curious.
I forgive you. I know you were just a child when you said those hurtful things to me.
And to Karen: I forgive you. I know you were just a child when you said those hurtful things to me. It has taken decades, but I’ve finally reached a place where I can release that pain and let go of the weight I’ve carried for so long. I don’t need to hold on to that anymore.
Turns out this isn’t about giving up. It’s about trusting. Trusting God to heal me. Trusting that I am enough, just as I am.
“God, help me trust in Your love for me, just as I am, and to see my worth through Your eyes.”