Who Told You You Were Naked?
What would happen if we could un-hear the voice that first told us to be ashamed?
The one that, from childhood, whispers that something about our bodies—our failures, our hungers, our very selves—is unworthy of being seen, loved, or offered to God?
That was the thread—a thread sometimes gently revealed and sometimes radiantly exposed—at the core of my recent conversation with Suizan Schacherer.
Suizan is not a preacher, and she’s certainly not a stereotype.
As a certified wellness coach, speaker, and podcast guest with a message of hope rooted in personal resilience, her honesty is refreshing and her story powerful.
Over half of her life, Suizan struggled with weight, body image, and the inner critic—until transformation came, in layers: through bariatric surgery, sustainable habits, and above all, a new way of seeing herself through the lens of faith and community.
“I was always the fat friend,” she says. “And even though I had all these friends, there’s that push-pull of how you feel about yourself all the time. Everything you do, you’ve got to think about, who’s looking at me?”
Her childhood story, while unique in detail, is familiar to many: a loving father, a mother facing her own battles, and a family context that produced comfort (and sometimes, self-comforting through food).
Early lessons around appearance, worth, and shame were picked up almost by osmosis. “If I wear my swim shirt, no one will see what’s underneath. Same with what I wore to work every single day—a black suit. If I was covered up, nobody saw what I really looked like.”
The Bible has a phrase for this posture, and it’s older than any diet industry slogan.
In Genesis, after God forms Adam and Eve—declaring this creation “very good”—the first humans realize they are naked, and they hide. God calls to them and asks: “Who told you that you were naked?”
It’s a question that reverberates through centuries and cultures.
Who told you that you were wrong, unworthy, too much, or not enough? What script began the drama of shame: the magazine cover, the gym locker room, a stray comment, a half-heard joke, the echo of the critical inner voice?
For Suizan—as for so many—weight wasn’t just about food, but about carrying the weight of a narrative never chosen.
She admits, “My friends were better friends to me than I was to myself. I would say I was the fat girl before anybody else did… In my head, I thought I was protecting myself.” Years later, she realized, “I would never be friends with someone who spoke to me the way I used to speak to myself.”
The Body as Temple—or Battleground?
When she chose bariatric surgery, Suizan viewed it as a useful tool—one part of a bigger whole.
She is clear: “I treated that lap band as a tool. I regulated my diet, my lifestyle, but the change had to come in my thinking.” And she’s equally honest about the pitfalls: “You can cheat any diet… It wasn’t sudden discipline, but that I started to understand we don’t live to eat, we eat to live.”
Food shame is deeply spiritual, especially in our modern culture of abundance and engineered quick fixes. In our conversation, we reflected on the biblical image: the body as a “temple of the Holy Spirit.”
Like any temple—a sacred, complex space—it needs tending, not punishing.
Suizan credits her breakthrough not to a miracle product, but to a shift in relationship with food and self. “I’m cognizant now—I don’t have to finish my plate. I don’t live by the scale, but I know my range. The biggest change is not what I eat or how much I weigh, but the discipline of caring for myself as something God calls ‘very good.’”
Quieting the Inner Critic: Childlike Trust and Self-Compassion
What does it take to unlearn the voice of shame—especially after decades of internalized self-doubt?
For Suizan, healing began with truth-telling, community, and a rediscovery of spiritual belonging.
She found support in an intimate Bible study group where she was “the new one,” asking fresh questions and embracing the beginner’s mind Christ celebrates. “There’s a humility to showing up as a beginner, to asking questions and being honest. My friends are so patient—I’m just grateful for the chance to learn and grow, and maybe inspire others to get excited about faith again.”
The courage to show up authentically is what Jesus asks when he says we must become like children—not naive, but open, teachable, and unashamed of our need for love.
Suizan’s journey is proof that gentleness must extend inward as well as outward; it is not pious to diminish oneself, nor is vulnerability weakness. Instead, she finds power in true self-care: choosing to believe what God says before what the inner critic or outside world says. “I’m not embarrassed by my faith anymore. The real change started inside—and it’s made all the difference in how I move through the world.”
Shame, Faith, and the Ongoing Process of Becoming “Very Good”
For Suizan, spiritual growth came after—not before—physical transformation. Fad diets faded; faith did not. “After I gave my life to God, things got harder before they got easier. But out of the hardest season, God gave me strength I didn’t know I had.”
Her chosen faith community was key; the friends who encouraged her became, in her words, “chosen sisters.” Together, they learned to forgive themselves, support each other, and—through daily conversation—be sharpened, sustained, and changed.
This is the lesson for all of us: don’t wait for “perfect.”
If you want to become the best version of yourself, start with truth: you are already made “very good.” One small, sustainable change at a time—paired with spiritual honesty—will do infinitely more than crash diets or self-punishment ever could. Come out of hiding and take a walk, literal or figurative. Begin again with grace. Listen for God’s voice, not the serpent’s whisper.
Before reaching for any external solution, ask: Who told you you were naked? And who, today, will you listen to?
You are created in the image of God. And God loves His creation.
— Wade
An Invitation: Start Your Journey Here
For a limited time, I’m offering my complete legacy trilogy set—The People of the Sign, The Hardness of the Heart, and The Rod of Iron—all original editions, autographed, for just $29.95 (US addresses only, due to shipping costs). These are the stories and struggles, chronicled honestly, that shaped me—and perhaps, might serve as companions and signposts on your own pilgrimage.
And if you sign up for an annual paid subscription to my Substack, you can receive the signed trilogy set for just $9.99 (to cover shipping and handling—again, US-only).
If you’ve been looking for a moment to begin—or to begin again—consider this your invitation.
If you found courage, resonance, or hope in Suizan’s story, share your own or pass this along to someone beginning or in the messy middle of their journey.
Next week, don’t miss my conversation with Dean Simone—on myth, metaphor, and the deep layers of biblical truth. Until then, may you believe, even in pressure or doubt, that “very good” is still your truest name.
