More than Writers

Last weekend I lost the will to live. This was mainly because, yet again, I didn’t have time to write my novel. A house full of people with conflicting needs – a recovering relative (bless him), a stressed A’Level student (bless her), a late-sermon writer (bless it) – is not particularly conducive. To say nothing of thirty annual reports and certain paid writing jobs that have to take precedence. So I did what I always do at such times. I went for a walk. And a pray. It was one of those blue and white days with birdsong and tree-sighing secrets in balmy air. It was also the Infant School Dino-tastic Summer Fair so I kept passing Flintstone-like children clutching paper cones filled with sweets or tiny plastic animals. The sight of their sticky faces made me wistful – they have their whole lives ahead  of them to write novels, build sky-scrapers or dig to Australia (you can tell the kind of mood). I reminded God about the novel-thing and the fact that I'd thought writing...

As a Christian, I knew at a head level that Jesus could set me free but there was conflict between what I knew Scripture said and what I experienced. This was especially true when I developed food addiction (or compulsive overeating/binge eating disorder). I ended up in utter captivity to this condition for years. I was so frustrated because I knew Jesus could set me free and yet I wasn’t seeing this freedom realised in my life. Three and a half years ago I was still completely imprisoned by an uncontrollable urge to binge eat in response to difficult emotions. I prayed for, and sought, freedom constantly for many years to no avail. Food was an anaesthetic which held me captive with its ability to numb pain. Not even my ever increasing weight stopped my bingeing but I didn’t give up. I kept on seeking because I knew that if the Bible told me Jesus could set me free, then He could set me free indeed.  Strangely, my turning point was suffering a major crisis of faith. ...