My story of overcoming an eating disorder needs to be shared.

While in Minnesota I unexpectedly met opportunities to share my story of overcoming bulimia with two different college women battling eating disorders. The encouragement that followed empathy and openness surprised me, and now compels me to be more open -- to be a voice of truth, to be a hope-giving testimony of healing.



At the core of my story there was pride, and this is hardest part to admit. Age 16-18, in my small-town circles I received affirmation for athleticism -- it's funny how you can remember these exact quotes from insignificant moments years ago -- teammate in the locker room envious, "Rachel! you seriously have the perfect body!" Bulky football player who looked me in the eyes when I was on the stairclimber, "Hey Rachel, you're lookin awesome." My mother, "Geez Rach, you almost look like you could be in a magazine." And so on.

Comments like these were not ill-intended, but what I chose to do with them was destructive. Already a perfectionist, one who hated to show weakness, I built my identity upon...it's sad to confess... feeling superior to others. Glory.

To college. Grieved that I wasn't a noteworthy athlete or anybody now. Seldom felt superior to anyone. Always jealous. Couldn't figure out what the heck made me significant anymore. Lost the joy of sports and became foremost concerned with that perfect image. Started messing around with fasting and ending up binging because I was overly hungry. Awkwardly made myself vomit and swore I'd never do it again. But the cycle persisted until I felt swept away in a force that was stronger than me.


Someone, was it Tim Keller? has said that pride is the petri dish in which all other sorts of sins spawn and fester.


As the eating disorder frighteningly claimed more territory in my life, I sought help from university counseling. A free life in Christ was my earnest desire -- I knew that's what I needed, the only way out -- yet I still held tightly to my pride, conflicted. May I allude to a parable? My identify, where I found significance, was precariously built partially on the Rock and partially on the sand. Which doesn't work. It's clearer in hindsight but at the time I was confused.


After two years of trying to make it, I with my counselor, parents and fiancé Drew, decided to take a semester off from college to get specialized help from an eating disorder clinic. For eight months I worked with a gifted therapist and nutritionist as an outpatient.

Besides the clinic, I had the warm support of many brothers and sisters in faith -- friends, housemates, mentors and professors at college and people in the community of Hutchinson Ev. Free Church. One of my fears was that I'd let everybody down as it became known that I was in treatment for bulimia. Then I'd be discounted, discredited, disqualified. I was ashamed. But you know? Absolutely nobody judged me or doubted my faith, nobody told me you shouldn't be struggling with this or what kind of Christian are you. People believed in me, respected and valued me, allowed me to keep using my gifts even as I was still working out my problems. So much grace, so much kindness and patience. I felt there was an entire community that only wished for me to be well.


I did get well. Now I continue to be intentional in staying well -- notice I did not say I'm over it, it's done, behind me -- I continue to be intentional in staying well.

In regards to pride, can I say that I have killed pride? No, of course not. I only continue to gradually shed layers of worthless baggage and let my soul sink deeper into God's truth like a big soft sofa. This has all been the work of Jesus.

counting the graces

thank you Father for

something pink and perfect for Mandie's birthday

Drew fills my soul up with happiness, how can so much joy spring from just being with one particular person?

Jon doing a fantastic job biting down with molars on tough sweet potato sticks
pink roses still bloom outside our apartment building

painting Christmas trees with my kids, they were delighted

my sweet bro taking the initiative to talk on skype and asking a million questions, because he cares

Sunny speaking well at my home group in Minnesota, reportedly her story was captivating

familiar sound of home: roaming knife-sharpener man calling up to our apartment windows "knife sharping! knife sharpening!"