Spiritual Stomach Flu

I was born bright and early on a cold, November, Sunday morning. My mom always jokes with me about making her miss church that day. I was born at 7:45am, so she could have made the 11:00am service. That was her choice to miss. Haha! When I was much older, I learned that I had actually been born with a hiatal hernia. Those aren't usually reason for great concern, and my case was no different. They told my parents if I had issues by the time I was about 5, then they would consider surgery. I had an outtie belly button for awhile, but that was it. No surgery needed. Despite the all clear from the doctors, I am convinced that I had, what I consider to be, significant stomach issues. I carried the stomach flu bug around with me, the way a child carries around their favorite blankie. I was plagued by its violent and painful wrath no less than twice a year. Even now, as an adult, the year cannot end without me having to suffer from its disrespectful consequences at least once.Stomach flu, better known as gastrointeritis by my "grown-up" doctors, always felt like my own personal punishment. But no instance has ever been as bad as the year I suffered this punishment on my favorite fat girl day; Thanksgiving. That also happens to be the same time frame as my birthday. I was maybe 10 or 11 years old that awful year. I was laid up on the couch in the living room, tucked under a blanket. The table next to me held all of my sick and shut in supplies; 7-up, saltine crackers, applesauce, and homemade jello. On this particular Thanksgiving, that was MY feast. Meanwhile, my family, and some close friends, got down on a picnic ham, collard greens, sweet potatoes, chicken and dressing with cranberry sauce, sweet corn, dinner rolls, cornbread, chocolate cake, and sweet potato pie. And that is just the foods I can recall. Please understand something about me. There is no food I love more than sweet potato pie. I always longed for a summer birthday because growing up in Michigan meant there was already snow on the ground most years on my birthday. I have never been too fond of cold or snow, but the perk of a birthday so close to Thanksgiving was the massive amounts of sweet potato pie I could eat! So, there I was in the living room sipping 7-up with an attitude, while my family sat in the dining room and laughed, and talked, and ate MY pie! All of the kids had strict instructions to leave me alone because they might get sick too. But one hard headed child, Jonathan, snuck in the living room to wave his plate of pie in my face, and then threatened to eat it all before I was better. I could have punched him! But his threat, and my need to compete, motivated me to hurry up and get better.The next day, I decided I was fine. My mom disagreed. I promised I was feeling sooooo much better and that I was ready to eat regular food. At lunch time that day I loaded my plate with leftovers, and I scarfed the whole thing down in what had to be mere seconds. I never made it to the dessert. Every single bite of that food came back up. I was devastated. I felt worse after that than I did in the days before. My mom did not say "told you so," but I bet she thought it. I ended up back on the couch with my 7-up, saltine crackers, applesauce, and homemade jello. ::insert pout face:: By the time I was truly well enough to eat "real" food, the leftovers were gone. Oh, but God had a ram in the bush! My Grandma Peacock had made me (well, in my mind it was only for me) a sweet potato pie! I wanted to eat the whole thing!!! But, I exercised some wisdom, and slowly ate a slice, enjoying every single bite. It did not come back up, and I did not feel sick afterwards because my body was actually ready to handle it.So, I am sure you're wondering what the point is of my walk down memory lane. As I mentioned, I still get the stomach flu every year, and I still almost always try to eat regular food before my body is ready. But, this particular memory from my childhood actually gave me some insight into my spiritual life.Having been born and raised in the church, granddaughter of the pastor, and daughter of a preacher, I KNEW I was "in there" with God. I was in church every time the doors opened! Mostly because my mom had a key and was the one opening them. Haha! By the time I was an adult, despite the nonsense and foolishness I participated in, I was not even close to being concerned with my salvation, because I was already "in there." I lived my life the way I wanted to, and there was nothing anyone could say or do to make me change. Eventually, I grew out of some of the foolishness, and decided I was going to go hard for Jesus. I still participated in nonsense, but since I was doing so much for the Lord, I knew it did not matter. I was still "in there" because my good was outweighing my bad. I cannot pinpoint the exact moment, but eventually I began to feel sick. I was so discontent with everything and everyone in ministry. I was convinced everyone around me was foul and God was trying to isolate me. Well, He was definitely trying to isolate me, but not because of them. I was the one who was foul! I was walking around with this spiritual stomach flu and infecting everyone around me! I would sit in church on Sundays and Wednesdays and be fed, but none of it stayed down. I was sick and unable to properly handle or digest solid foods. But I did not understand. I have been in church my whole life! What's the problem? Then the Holy Spirit led me to a scripture that kind of wrecked my life."You have been believers so long now that you ought to be teaching others. Instead, you need someone to teach you again the basic things about God's word. You are like babies who need milk and cannot eat solid food. For someone who lives on milk is still an infant and doesn't know how to do what is right. Solid food is for those who are mature, who through training have the skill to recognize the difference between right and wrong."Hebrews 5:12-14 (NLT)Wow! That was all about me. So I called myself humbled and decided to "fall back." I stopped teaching and stopped leading/participating in almost every ministry, and told everyone God was working on me. I made this big deal about my isolation and journey to spiritual enlightenment and growth. I know, I am rolling my eyes at myself even as I write this. I sat in the front of the class/church as much as I could, I only listened to gospel music, I was "fasting" all the time, I was reading the verse of the day and making memes to post on Facebook and Instagram, I was only posting stuff about God, and I only drank wine and beer. Y'all, a sistah was saved forreal this time okay! So after a few months of this, I decided I was healthy and whole, and ready to get to work again. So I called myself jumping back in. I went straight to the deep end. Skip teaching the kids, let me go ahead and start preaching. Boy was I holy! Untouchable! I preached that first sermon, and while the pressure I had been feeling was gone, I still had no peace. I did not understand. I figured it was my nerves because I care so much about the opinions of others, (that's a post all by itself) so I brushed it off and continued living my "holy" life. As some time passed I began noticing that sick feeling again. I was watching other people, who weren't living nearly as holy as I, be asked to speak/preach/participate all over the city, and even in other states. I watched some of these same people thrive in the areas I felt I should have. I would vent to my married boyfriend about how unfair it was. How I was living right, and wasn't doing what they were doing. I would complain about how I should be doing better financially and should not be struggling because I WAS better. That is what I thought. And then the Holy Spirit hit me with another scripture."I had to feed you with milk, not with solid food, because you weren't ready for anything stronger. And you still aren't ready, for you are still controlled by your sinful nature." 1 Corinthians 3:2-3aWhat?!?! I AM better. I don't need milk anymore. I changed. I have grown. I am saved, sanctified, and Holy Ghost filled. I am ready for the big stuff. Use me! Send me out to the masses. I can do this. I argued for awhile, but I was talking to myself. I think God was done with the conversation after He gave me the scripture. So then I sank into a pit of self pity and sorrow. I could not genuinely rejoice with those around me because I was constantly telling myself how I could do exactly what they did, and how I was better than so many of them. I felt like they were Jonathan with the pie, telling me they were going to eat all of it so I could not have any. But then God started talking again. He told me it was time to stop playing and truly heal. He said I had to get the toxins out of my system, and during that process I had to eat only what my body could handle. This time, I listened. I made the changes HE told me to make in my life. I went, without an attitude, and sat on the "couch" He put me on.As I write this, I'm still on a diet of 7-up, saltine crackers, applesauce, and homemade jello, but I am okay with that. I am no longer looking at what's on the plate of those around me. I am not worried about there being nothing left for me once I am healthy and whole. I'm following the diet He gave, and I FEEL the toxins leaving my body. I'm feeling a lot stronger these days y'all. I might be allowed to have a turkey sandwich soon! I know my feast is coming, and there's a slice of pie reserved just for me!