People with eating disorders, disordered eating patterns, and body image struggles fill our churches. And what are we telling them? What are we not telling them? Or, even the better question might be, are we telling these people anything?
In December of 2002, I was hospitalized for an eating disorder, depression, and anxiety. Three months later, I left the hospital AMA (against medical advice) tired of bed checks, knitting circles, counseling sessions, doctors appointments, and Ensure smoothies. And twelve years later, I no longer cry over eating a banana or feel the urge to run ten miles to work off a piece of grilled chicken.