I grew up in a home with two loving parents located in a well-supported community. But no matter how good things are externally, adolescence can provide ample opportunity for distress. And with this, I learned firsthand how the body can become a locus for inner conflict.

My adolescence felt entirely out of control, and anorexia felt like a way to reign it in. My perfectionism craved control, and anorexia was a convenient tool.

Years later, when our son wrote to us regarding his trans announcement—with an already scheduled solution to alter his body—my mind went back to my own failed remedy. Though trans was an option I never would have imagined, it was one that I have come to learn derives from the same “symptom pool” of non-suicidal self-injury.

Feelings of hunger and continued restraint were constant reminders that I was in control. Hearing from others how skinny I was gave me the affirmation and illusion that I was on the throne. But it wasn’t long before this power became a taskmaster that forced an obsession with numbers. It began to rob me of both my energy and joy.

While the university was arranging our son’s medical interventions—assuring him that body modification would calm the torments of his mind—anorexia had already taught me that it would not. I had learned that there was a far better way to make all things new.

It was to view my image not by the reflection in the mirror, but in the reflection of God’s Word:

“…with unveiled face, beholding the glory of the Lord… being transformed into the same image from one degree of glory to another.”
— 2 Corinthians 3:18

As one writer put it, “A metamorphosis more wondrous than any poet had dreamt of.”

In my case, it was the light of God’s Word and my earthly father’s loving words that helped release the grip of this cruel master. With our son, any opportunity to speak had already been deemed “unsafe.” The truth of who he was and what he could become were veiled with lies and deception. He was no longer able to behold and reflect the glory we have in Jesus Christ.

To experience that light that shines into our darkened hearts and truly transforms.

At least, not yet.

Behind me, in this photo, hangs a picture of a rainbow positioned like prophetic writing on a wall. It is the symbol of God’s faithfulness and mercy. A symbol of hope and a promise that the God who has been faithful to me:

“…is able to do far more abundantly than all that we ask or think.”
— Ephesians 3:20

It brings to mind Revelation 10—of that promised appearing of “a rainbow over his head,” assuring me that God will not only reclaim this stolen symbol but:

“He will swallow up death forever; and the Lord God will wipe away tears from all faces, and the reproach of his people he will take away from all the earth…”
— Isaiah 25:8

“You keep him in perfect peace whose mind is stayed on you, because he trusts in you.”
— Isaiah 26:3