If there’s one thing to know about me, it’s that I love writing and a good story. So, when it comes to sharing my testimony, it’s hard not to view it through this lens. Naturally, I’ve also been drawn to God’s role as the Author of Life. So, while I’ve seen him as Father, Protector, Savior and Lord, I see Him mostly clearly as the one who has penned the story of history, the promise of the future and everything in between—including my life. 

Another thing to know is that my favorite stories are those with thrilling storylines, unexpected twists and exciting plots. And if I’m being honest, I’ve never seen my life story as any of these. I was raised in a Christian home, I overcame my doubts, I accepted Christ and since then, it’s been an up-and-down battle of faith. When I look at the plot of my life…it’s easy to believe it’s pretty unextraordinary. 

But God. 

Yep, some of the biggest plot twists in the Bible follow these two words. And when I look at my life, “but God” is what turns my story from a simple narrative to an integral part of His story.

If I had to break my life up into chapters, they could most clearly be marked by different lies I believed at the time. 1. “I am the center.” 2. “I am only loved based on my behavior” 3. “I am what I feel” 4. “I am the center, part 2” and then we’ll get to my current chapter, today, but we’ll save that for the end—because nobody likes a spoiler. 

In the rest of this rambling testimony, I’m going to try and explain the unique ways God was working all along and how when God is the author, every word on the page of my story becomes extraordinary. So here goes.

First things first, my childhood. I grew up in the best family with loving, hilarious, kind parents. We went to church every week and while faith conversations didn’t really extend into the house Monday through Saturday, my parents were always there to answer questions the best they could. Like most people, my childhood was marked by selfishness—believing I was the center of the universe. And while I’d like to say that was just me being a kid, how often do I revert back to that belief every day even now? 

From what I can remember of my childhood, it was a great one full of love and happiness. Unfortunately, this makes it tempting to believe that this first chapter of my life makes my testimony boring, but I’ve learned that’s not the case. When God was writing my story, He chose to bless me with this life and protect me from a million things and set me up with all I needed to learn about Him. 

And so, that’s what I did. All throughout middle school and high school I got plugged into student ministry, went to church, read my Bible and tried to live a life pleasing to God. But then I got carried away. In my misunderstanding of the Gospel, and my own perfectionism, I entered a period of self-destruction as I attempted to become the “perfect girl” and believed the lie that I was only as good as what others thought of me. This manifested itself most prominently in my legalistic attitude and 6-year-long eating disorder. Not only was I trying to earn God’s love through obedience and works, but I was also trying to earn the love of others by fitting into a mold—and that mold was a size 00 pants. For about three years I lived in this vicious cycle of “not sinning” and not eating to feel worthy, while simultaneously carrying on in judgment, pride and idolatry. My relentless drive for 'perfection' in my faith was mirrored by an equally relentless drive for physical 'perfection.' Each skipped meal, each mile run, felt like a twisted form of control, a way to prove my worth both to God and to others. My mind was a battleground of self-hate and fear, constantly judging my body against impossible standards.

And my body became my idol, demanding constant worship in the form of control and self-denial. I bowed down to the scale, the mirror and the opinions of others, sacrificing my physical and spiritual health on the altar of vanity. My image became my god and I would quickly learn through disappointing doctor’s visits, countless panic attacks, dark depressive seasons and a withering body that this could not and would not bring me life.

But before I flip the page, I’ve spent a lot of time rereading this chapter and asking God “why.” Why would He create me this way? Why would He wire my brain this way? Why would he let me destroy my body for the sake of others’ opinions? And though I don’t believe I’ll know the answers to those questions on this side of heaven, I do know that when I fast forward to the rest of my story—I have been able to use these experiences to relate to others and help them walk through their own journeys with perfectionism, disordered eating and the underlying sin of trying to take control away from God. 

This also reminds me of a quote from a book called A Praying Life: “If God is sovereign, then he is in control of all the details of my life. If he is loving, then he is going to be shaping the details of my life for good. If he is all-wise, then he’s not going to do everything I want because I don’t know what I need. If he is patient, then he is going to take time to do all this. When we put all these things together—God’s sovereignty, love, wisdom and patience—we have a divine story.”

So on that note…going back to my little story, this is what I have learned NOW, but at the moment, it truly felt like there was no purpose to this chapter. I was in and out of hospital visits, I was losing friends, I was miserable. But on the outside—I was skinny, I was popular and (by the grace of God) I was still going to church. Which brings us to chapter 3…I am what I feel. 

Though I had been doing everything “right” and going to church, I still didn’t understand the Gospel. As someone who thrived on the black and white and being able to understand everything before accepting it—I was comfortable learning about Jesus, but not accepting Him. I’d been feeling His call to end my destructive behavior—sometimes a whisper and sometimes a forceful “STOP”, but I ignored it because, as most high schoolers do, I thought I knew better than God.

Then, at 15 on a porch in the Dominican Republic, I finally gave up. I expressed my doubts and frustrations and shame and guilt to a church leader on this mission trip and, to my surprise, she wasn’t appalled by the mess of my life. And she told me that God wasn’t either. This was the first time someone told me that I didn’t need to understand it all and have my life together before committing to Christ—so I did. 

That summer, I was baptized—and it wasn’t pretty. I was still sobbing with doubts as I went under the water, but amidst those doubts, I felt peace. I didn’t have it figured out, but I didn’t need to. After that day, I couldn’t get enough of God’s word. I was in the Bible daily, listening to podcasts, reading books, going to a Christian college, taking theology classes and getting involved in every class my church had to offer. Unfortunately, this new, childlike faith was also heavily based on and influenced by my feelings. I believed the lie that truth is whatever I am feeling. And at the time, my faith seemed unshakeable. I finally felt like I was learning to root my identity in God and not my appearance, likability or relationships.

But as with all feelings, this was fleeting. And I wish I never stumbled or had bad feelings or chose the world. But then again, I’m not the author. So chapter 4 came along…and I fell back into the belief that I am the center of the story. In the middle of college and for several years after, I fell back into my old ways of people pleasing and desiring the attention of others. Although I kept up with my devos and church attendance, my life looked just like those of the unbelievers around me. I was walking through anxiety and depression and instead of seeking God, I sought the escape of my old eating disordered ways. I was in a vicious cycle of pride and guilt and could not see a way out. Not only was I sinning, but I didn’t care that I was sinning. The theme of this chapter was apathy and, in my opinion, that’s one of the hardest traps to get out of. 

So, we flip to the “today” chapter. And I’d like to say I’m out of it, but I’m not. A lot of testimonies seem to take place in the after, the epilogue—but to be honest, that’s not where I’m at. The last 4-5 years of my life have been some of my toughest moments in faith. I’m still wrestling with apathy, doubts and fears. I’m wrestling with my body in new ways—not only regarding the way it looks, but the way it’s failing me as I walk through health struggles. I’m still believing lies that I am the center, that my feelings are truth, that my value and happiness are tied to my appearance and the list goes on. And if I were the author of my story, I’d rip out the pages and rewrite it. I’d give myself the perfect faith with no doubts. But if there’s one thing I’ve learned in life, it’s that God is a lot better author than I could ever be. In fact, He’s perfect. So…instead, I’ll trust, and keep reading. Though I don’t always feel it, I know that in the larger story, I have a Savior who has died for me and that means every moment of my life is working together for good. I know He created all things, including my body, and called it very good. I know that the world is fallen and my body and mind feel those effects every day, yet even in brokenness and pain, I can view my body in light of its ultimate purpose, as a vessel of Worship.  I may not know why things are the way they are and why I feel the way I do, but I do know He is good and every life He authors, if we choose to believe and trust Him, begins and ends with Christ. And that—realizing that God, not me, is and was and will always be the main character of my story—is the best plot twist of them all.