I’ve always found myself striving for perfection. I was blessed to grow up in a Christian family very involved with church, and I can’t remember a time when I didn’t believe that Jesus died and rose again to save me from my sin. But there wasn’t a lot of talk about faith in our home. I knew I was going to heaven when I died, but I didn’t have a much deeper understanding than that. I had this idea that I needed to be the perfect Christian and follow all the right things in order to be accepted by God.
I found a lot of my identity in my achievements, my grades, and my performance as a competitive dancer. I wanted to be seen as a rule-follower doing the right Christian things, but I didn’t have a personal relationship with the Lord.
Constantly striving for that unattainable perfection bred a lot of worry and anxiety in my life from a young age—I was relying on my own strength instead of relying on the Lord.
I went on to dance at a junior college. I had never really struggled with body image before, but halfway through my freshman year, I began to struggle with an eating disorder. This was just another way I was seeking control in my life and trying to find my identity in a number on a scale.
I didn’t have the eyes to see myself how the Lord saw me: as his beloved daughter.
For a long time, I chose to keep that struggle in the dark. I transferred to a larger university during my junior year, still struggling with anxiety, depression, and striving for perfection. I got involved with a campus-affiliated Christian camp, which is where I heard a close friend of mine share her testimony of how God had delivered her from an eating disorder. For the first time, I realized what I was doing was sinful, not some healthy habit I’d made up in my head.
That same friend began to walk with me, hold me accountable to healthier, more God-honoring eating habits, and encouraged me to view my identity in Christ.
Despite all the spiritual growth that had happened in college, my graduate program was incredibly challenging. It was at a Christian school, but I spent less time with the Lord, lacked discipleship, and kept putting pressure on myself to be perfect. A few months in, I lost a very dear family member, and a week after her funeral, my parents explained they were getting divorced. I felt myself becoming more separated from God because I couldn’t understand why God would allow all of this to happen.
But God continued to pursue me.
When I moved to Dallas, some friends encouraged me to get involved in a church, and I joined as a member at Watermark. Since then, through the accountability and encouragement of my community group, God has set me free from my eating disorder and revealed to me the love he has for me as his daughter. He showed me that I don’t have to fix myself up to come to Jesus—he came and died to save me in all of my brokenness and gives me a new life to walk with him joyfully. He showed me that none of my achievements or abilities were actually mine; they were all blessings from God to use for him.
Now, I get to serve kids and families in a really unique way. Through Watermark’s Additional Care for Kids, I’ve gained perspective on Jesus and his ministry on earth—he was a friend to those who didn’t look like everyone else. I have also seen the power of the gospel in so many ways. Originally, the kid I serve with couldn’t write his name or identify a letter, but over time, he could recognize that he was at church and could identify Jesus in a story. It’s been so cool to see God’s truth get through to him.
And the truth has gotten through to me, too. I still try to be perfect sometimes, but God is so kind to remind me that his grace is sufficient, as he says in 2 Corinthians 12:9. My life isn’t just a random story but a story in the hands of a sovereign God, and he’s working all things for his purpose. Any weakness that I have or see in myself is something God can use for good, and in seasons of suffering or discontentment, I can have peace in a perfect God. My identity in Christ is received, not achieved, and I am made perfect in him.