Fill in the blank: When I think of my body right now, I’m not very fond of my (blank). The answer to this question should not be influenced by America’s flawed obsession with perfect physiques. This shouldn’t be about your measurements, weight or six-pack abs. Rather it should identify one part of your physical body. For example, at this moment I’m not very fond of my hamstrings. While being relatively tall, I seem to have short hamstrings, which cause my lower-back muscles to work too hard and thus provoke periodic back spasms. When that happens, I think very unkind thoughts about my hamstrings.
In the past weeks, I’ve visited with church members in hospitals, doctors’ offices, or church hallways, and heard how they were not very fond of different parts of their bodies: knees that need replacing, an appendix that decided to burst, eyes suffering from macular degeneration, or cancer cells taking root in skin layers, the pancreas, lungs and breasts. The rest of their bodies were doing fine. If only this one, troublesome organ, joint or body part could somehow rediscover good health like its physiological colleagues.
In response to these complaints, it is possible to try and see the biological “glass” as being half-full, noting that we should give thanks for the miracle of life itself and not let one bad body part distract us from the hundreds of others within us that are doing just fine. That response may sound good in theory, but if you are in pain, or aware of cancer cells multiplying somewhere within you, those concerns will always go to the top of your personal prayer list.
Should we seek comfort from scripture, such as the reminder in Psalm 139 about how “we are fearfully and wonderfully made”? There is relief in remembering that God knows us well and shaped our wondrous forms. Yet there are undoubtedly times when we wish God’s provision might have forestalled the growth of tumors, limited the effects of arthritis, or (speaking personally) given me just slightly longer hamstrings.
No quick answer will take away our displeasure when some part of our body fails us. Cells live and die each day, and we are creatures forever in states of transition literally moving from life to death. The comfort of our faith, though, shifts our focus from physicality to temporality—from body aches to the passage of time. We are sustained by the promise that all our days are known by God. Our times of strength and times of struggle fall within the loving consciousness of our Lord. Good health may be a factor of genes, diet, exercise, and luck, just as poor health may be equally tied to a range of causes. But each day we have is one that comes to us from God, and it exists to allow us to express our relationship with God, with one another, and with our funny, unreliable, amazing, fragile, physical bodies.
Our bodies are not what define us; we are defined by God’s love and grace, which happens to find creative ways of being expressed thanks to our bodies. This helps keep things in perspective when we’re not so pleased with every last cell in our being. (Or feeling grumpy with our hamstrings.) So for our bodies and for the gift of this day, thanks be to God.
—Randy Bush