We’re on His Wall

Grey’s Anatomy is a great show.

I love it, I really do. And if you haven’t watched from the beginning, I highly HIGHLY suggest it.

There’s a formula to the show. In every episode, there’s a patient. They’ve either been maimed by an inanimate object, have a car part or something protruding through their abdomen, been hit by something, yade yade yaddah.

Whatever the case, they’ve been severely injured. And it’s Meredith’s, or Bailey’s, or Alex’s job to fix it. Mend it. Put the pieces back together.

And when the patient heals, their worth as a human being does not diminish because they endured that trauma. Sure, they may need a prosthetic limb as a result, but they still have the same value as before the accident. In fact, they’re often celebrated for having overcome such adversity.


Eating disorders may not be a car fender gashing into a person’s side. Anorexia may not be a severed limb that needs to be reattached. But it affects you just the same.

And here’s what I really want to talk about:

The fact that you had an eating disorder does not make you any less of a person.


I’m going to repeat that, because it is really important, and frankly, I need to hear it again, myself.

Just because you had an eating disorder, does not make you worthless.

That wound does not devalue you.

It does not make you unloveable.

It does not make you someone who you can’t be proud of.

It is simply your brokenness – where you were maimed.

And news flash: everyone is broken in one way or another.


Some people struggle with materialism, throwing themselves at the opposite sex, alcoholism. Some people are trapped in a cycle of depression, or addiction, or substance abuse, or jealousy, or vanity, or lust, or being too lazy or greedy, or spending thousands of dollars shopping online, or you name it.

A wound is a wound is a wound. Whether it is impaling you from the outside, like a car part or a tree branch, or from the inside like an eating disorder. A wound breaks you. Makes you broken. Makes you in need of healing.

So why is it that when a person heals from a car accident, their value or worth doesn’t decrease, just because they were once wounded? Why does a gun shot wound survivor not become less of a person? Why is it that healing from trauma does not dictate a devalued human.

Why? Because that person is not their wound. They are not defined by their medical history. Their value as a person is not dictated by the fact that they underwent a trauma.

And the same goes for an eating disorder.

You are not your eating disorder.

Here’s the thing: when you’re in recovery and living abundantly again, you are living proof that you healed. Or rather, that you have been healed.


And this is going to get a little “metaphorically wonky,” but just hear me out.

I’d like to start out by saying that I, in no way, shape, or form, am discrediting any of the hard work that you’ve done in your recovery.

But, I’m going to just throw this out there for you to ponder tonight.

When a victim of a car crash comes into the ER, they do not demand a scalpel and scrubs to operate on themselves. They physically can’t. They’re lying on an operating table, simply hanging on for dear life. They leave it up to the professionals: the doctors. They literally place their life in the doctor’s hands, trusting that the doctor’s years and years and years of training pay off.

#RealTalk: Jesus is that doctor.

He is the one that will do the surgery, put you back together, and heal you. But you have to call 911. You have to call the ambulance to come pick you up.

But I’m getting away from the real reason for this post.

Broken does not mean worthless.

Just because you were once broken – just because you had an eating disorder – does not mean that you are somehow worth less or have decreased in value as a human being.



Here’s what it does mean:

It speaks to the skill of your doctor.

You know how when you go into an orthodontist’s office, they always have the before and after pictures on the wall in the waiting room? There’s the “before” picture, of a guy with the jacked up teeth — like, how the hell does he even get his lips around those bad boys — right next to the “after,” where that same guy all of a sudden became tall-dark-and-handsome, with perfect, pearly whites. That transformation speaks to the skill of the orthodontist. That’s why it’s on his wall: to “show off.” To boast his skills. To serve as an advertisement to his abilities. He’s proud of the work he’s done.

So is God with you.

I’m not saying that God is prideful and walks around tooting His own horn about the work He’s done with you. But He kind of is. Because you and me, walking around, reclaiming our lives, in recovery — our very lives speak to His glory. We are the pictures on His wall. Every time God sees us, He is like, “Man, I did a good job.” or “Gosh, I’m proud of her.” 

The degree of my brokenness just speaks all the more to the glory and the power of God.

So claim it. There’s nothing to be ashamed of.


So okay, that’s it. Enough preaching.

I’ve got to get back to watching Grey’s Anatomy.

It’s the episode where there’s a metal pole impaling two people.

And I guarantee – when they heal, those two people are going to be exemplary cases that Meredith will use to brag about later.


12 responses to “We’re on His Wall”

  1. Yes, I needed to hear this. I am thinking about my future a lot, especially with college/graduating high school coming up. I am afraid that my parents will take my past and use it against me. But just because I suffered, does not mean I am a prisoner.

  2. Even though I’ve worked hard to take care of myself, I can’t escape the fact that my physical makeup comes from the shallow end of the gene pool. I’ve been snuggled right up to death 3 times so far. Twice in 2012. The first time was in 2003. I had a double-bypass. Days away from keeling over. Each of these three times were completely different issues. Lucky me. These close calls take a toll. And it’s nothing but bad genes. Maybe that’s one reason your writing is so impactful to me. I’ve been through your zip code. Oh, not with the same medical reasons, but I’ve been within spitting distance of the Grim Reaper more than once.

    So…”God is with you.” That’s how Julie and I have made it. When I went in to surgery, we agreed that I would either wake up to her or God. Neither outcome really sounded so bad. Obviously, God has kept me around for whatever reason or reasons. One thing I know; He’s my hero. You wrote about God maybe bragging after a fashion. I think you’re right. If anyone has bragging rights… Makes me think of something I’ve been meaning to write for a while. If you have a minute, drop by tomorrow and give it a read. It might work for you.

    Great weekend!

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