Grace, up close and personal

Guys, I am at a loss for words to describe how grateful I am for the grace of God, the continual, undeserving, unending, powerful, genuine, fulfilling and purging grace of God. I celebrated my very first Whole60 this past Friday, March 20^th. That. Is. Crazy. Do you know how big of a deal that is? Do you have any idea how big of a deal that is for someone like me? Let us refresh with some of my words back in October 2014, before I started my very first Whole30…

“I just gave you my entire story of being controlled by food and its powerful ability to mess up my emotions. You can see there is a long history of change that has been needing to happen for quite some time now. My cravings do control me and the idea of not being able to have a "treat" meal (why do we call eating bad things a treat?) once a week scares the crap out of me because I'm afraid of how hard that will be, the repercussions of withdrawal………but isn't that a good thing? Of course, when I take a step back and not think about the brownie cookie and chocolate cheesecake I had today and how delicious they were, then yeah, I know it's best. But man…that Waterfront Cinnamon Roll….how could you not want to eat that? That's what makes me so angry at myself as well. I know I shouldn't eat it. I'm even reading Whole30's guideline book, It Starts With Food, detailing every single reason why these foods are bad for us and what they do to our bodies and I still eat it. *smack my head.*” (9/29/14, My messed-up, topsy turvy, up and down, all around personal health story).

When I re-read that post, among other journal/blog entries of me pouring out my soul in desperation for change, I kind of cringe inside. In fact, I would even say I’m a bit embarrassed, even ashamed. I remember so vividly being the person that was so concerned about my bodily aesthetics. I mean, look at my blog posts back then! It’s sad. It’s really sad because I just sound like a trivial girl only concerned about numbers, PRs, measurements, percentages, bla bla bla. I sound like there was no other depth to me than that…and because of the person I am now, five months later, that makes me very sad. That’s not who I am anymore, and I never want anyone to ever associate me with being that old person. I’ve even considered taking down those old posts because if you listen to the voice I had then versus the voice I have now, they’re different. They’re night and day. Something was missing in my posts five months ago that is no longer missing now.

Quite simply, it was Jesus.

“I’ve learned that my identity isn’t tied to before-and-after pictures, measurements, and gains and losses, but is rooted so much deeper than that. You created this program for those seeking healing, whole healing and I joined your wagon wanting that healing just as much as the millions of others who have come to experience Whole30. However, Melissa Hartwig, your program revealed a lot more inside of me than inflammation, hormonal imbalance, a compromised gut, and psychological disruption. In addition to those ailments, I discovered brokenness, craters, holes, scars, buried pains, insecurities, and doubt that were left out to dry, with no hope of water. The Whole30 has been a very real, powerful and pivotal tool in extending the healing that God so badly longs to give to us, physically, mentally, emotionally, and spiritually.” (3/17/15, Dear Melissa: I got up from my table).

If you read my post I wrote in September, My messed-up, topsy turvy, up and down, all around personal health story, and pay attention to the way I wrote it, the way I spoke, what I spoke about, etc. and compare it to my recent post of me sharing my story, with the perspective of having done the Whole60, the difference is shocking.

Jesus. Jesus. Jesus.

As I shared in my post Dear Melissa: I got up from my table, I come from a background of no longer wanting to be alive because of how much self-hatred I had towards myself, all tied to the successes or failures of my diet and exercise. Food controlled my life. I distinctly remember coming home every day, one week before starting my very first Whole30, and breaking into my family’s piggy bank of tons of coins to make $5.00 here, $6.00 there to pay for a cookie one day, a cinnamon roll the next day…Now if that doesn’t sound like a crack addict, I don’t know what does. I lived in darkness, guys. Darkness covered me more than my own shame and self-pity, every single day. And you know what?

I don’t want to forget it. I never want to forget that place, that person, those memories, those feelings. I will never remove those olds posts that have the voice of the old me because it further proves the point of Jesus’ transformation in my heart, in my life, in my mind, in my body. At the end of the day, I was that person. I may cringe, and feel a tad embarrassed re-reading those things, but then I replace those feelings with gratitude, extreme gratitude from the grace that has been given to me.

¹⁶ He reached down from on high and took hold of me;
    he drew me out of deep waters.
¹⁷ He rescued me from my powerful enemy,
    from my foes, who were too strong for me.
¹⁸ They confronted me in the day of my disaster,
    but the Lord was my support.
¹⁹ He brought me out into a spacious place;
    he rescued me because he delighted in me.

Psalm 18

So, what did I do to celebrate my Whole60?

 I reflected.

I remembered where I came from: the horrors I went through for years, the thoughts that would consume me and choke me with emotions of worthlessness, emotions that I thought I would never shake. I never believed victory was mine and never would be. But Jesus died for a lot more than I thought—he died for all the chains of enslavement to perfectionism that I for so long held hard and fast to, even if I didn’t want to.

I learned that the difference this time around is that Christ became my source of freedom and power. Finally, I understood it—I can’t free myself.

So, with face to floor, I cried out, begging Him to help me let go of the unrealistic standards I held myself to. I changed to focus on whole living, holistic health, the long-awaited rehabilitation and healing of my insides, the rejuvenation of my very dry, cracked, and broken desert-land of a heart. And in return, I got a rushing waterfall of love. I was no longer fulfilled by the temporary and cheap comfort of a sugar spike, but by the lasting, real and personal reassurance that I have been promised an abundant life (John 10:10) and real wellness (Luke 17:19).

I have been made well, and am continually being made well every day. The only way I can continue on, though, is to stop striving with my own strength and understanding, and remember where I came from, remember exactly Who did the rescuing, Who did the freeing and rest assured in that.

Jesus is my biggest fan. But for the first time, thank God, I can say…

So am I.