For instance, I have a family member who doesn't understand overeating. He doesn't understand how someone can overeat to the point of morbid obesity. He has actually said, "Just don't eat so much," as if that is such a common sense, simple solution. Or on the opposite side of that, someone may not understand an anorexic person. Just eat, right? Absolutely any vice could be substituted. Sometimes "Just do the right thing" is not "just" do it, as if it's simple. I suppose you do have the choice. You can take control over your eating. But it's not easy. It's a struggle. And your body will fight against it with all its might. There is no "just" do it. It's more like Take control of your life. Tell your body that it is not in charge of you. Live with whatever fit your body wants to throw. Lean on God and your friends and family. Have respect for yourself and the creation God made. And DO IT. There is no "just."
I had a dream last night that sparked this line of thought. Queen of Anxiety Dreams, I am. This was a doozy. I'm on a train. It's like the train that they ride in the Harry Potter films. (My kids have been watching a lot of that lately.) I'm in my little compartment, minding my own business, but I have a really uneasy feeling. Something's just not right. I have a sick feeling in my stomach. So I get up and open the door to my closed off section and peer down the line of other little train "rooms," and I see that everyone's door is open, and it appears that they are all waiting in the doorway, ready to depart the train. Everyone has bags in hand and coats and hats on. My friend is in the next room over and can see and hear me and says, "It's time to get off the train. You're not ready." So I just panic. I grab all my stuff and throw it in the bag. I'm sure I've left something behind and that makes me panic. I grab my coat and try to get it on, but the bottoms of the sleeve are too tight, and I can't get my hands through. I start crying because I hear the train coming to a stop, and I know I have to get off. My friend comes over and holds down the sleeves of my coat so I can push my hands through. I grab my bags, after being reminded to do so, and head for the exit. Everyone just seems to be getting off the train in calm fashion. The exit of the train looks like the end of an 18-wheeler trailer. There is a ramp. But a small ramp. I get to the ramp, and I notice that you have to go underneath a sort of cover to get out. It looked almost like a shallow hole you had to go down and then back out to get off the train. Everyone was doing it as if it were no big deal. My heart starts racing. I have claustrophobia. And I'm in a heavy coat. And there is NO WAY I can do this. The people behind me are getting impatient. I look out and on the other side of the ramp are what looks like flight attendants but for a train. Train attendants. I'm thinking that they will help me. I'm calling out to them to help me because I can't go through this hole to get out. I will die. Or so I think. But the attendants just look at me. They say nothing. I'm not even sure that they can hear me. I am absolutely panicked. My friend behind me calmly says, "You can do it. I'll help you."
So I do it. There was no simple "just do it." There was crying. There was a full blown panic attack. I get my upper body through the hole and water starts pouring in. So now I'm literally drowning. Suddenly I feel a push from behind me. It's my friend pushing me through so that my head can get out of the hole. I crawl out and go down the ramp. I'm crying. I'm throwing up. I'm soaking wet. I look around and the train attendants are looking at me as if I'm crazy- as if I caused the sudden flood of water into the hole. Everyone continues to effortlessly exit the train. I'm still reeling from what I just did, wondering where I can put some dry clothes on. I'm also wondering if I should see a doctor. I can't quit throwing up. My heart won't quit racing.
My friend walks by me as I'm hurling and crying and doesn't even acknowledge that I'm a mess. I'm confused why no one else had any trouble getting off the train. I'm confused why no one seems to get that I almost died. And that it was HARD. Yes. I did it. But it was HARD. And it nearly killed me. And then my friend spoke while passing me, never stopping. "You did it. I helped you."
Now I'm no amazing-technicolor-dreamcoat-wearing-Joseph, but I think that dream is pretty easy to interpret. And I'm not sure if the "friend" in my dream represented God or a real friend or just the strength that you can muster when you find yourself helpless and out of control, but I like to think the friend was all three.
I woke up in full blown panic attack mode. Drenched wet in sweat. Heart racing. I couldn't go back to sleep, so I just replayed the dream in my head. And it made me think about people in helpless situations or in situations that have gotten so out of control that they can't "just" do what needs to be done by themselves. "Just do it" sounds simple. But life isn't simple. There is no "just don't eat so much" to someone with a food addiction. There is no "just stop smoking" to someone addicted to cigarettes. There is no "just get over it" to someone who is so truly hurting. There is no "just do the right thing" to someone who is dependent on the wrong thing. The truth is that you can do it. You can do what you need to do. But it's hard. And you might feel as if you are drowning. And someone may have to help push you through. And God may have to constantly give you strength and courage. Know it's not easy. Know there is no "just" about it. It might be painful. You may need help. You may fail repeatedly. But God promises he won't leave you. “The Lord himself goes before you and will be with you; he will never leave you nor forsake you. Do not be afraid; do not be discouraged.” Deuteronomy 31:8.
God is there to help us get our heads above water. He'll push us through the hole when the train attendants who are supposed to be the passengers' helpers just ignore our cries for help and don't understand what's so hard about our task. He sends us people who help us get our coat sleeves on without commenting on our ineptitude when we can't do it ourselves. And He gives us the courage and strength to make the choice to get off the train in the first place.
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