Body {it happened on a sunday} day 28

Effortless

After I popped out a couple of kids and turned 30, I was faced with a slowing metabolism.  (I know some of my friends will read this and make some sound of audible derision.  I am still blessed by a better metabolism than I deserve.)  For the first time in my life, I have had to actually take care of my body, to think about what I'm putting into it and how that affects what I'm getting out of it.  As a child, and even a teenager, I didn't need to prepare to run in gym class or put my legs behind my head.  I was always skinny, always ate things I liked, always had energy for the activities I wanted to be part of.  Ah, the blissful ignorance of youth.

Now, I have to work at it.  I have to force myself to eat salads and drink water if I want to keep fitting in my clothes.  I have to start running weeks before a race in order to finish in the top third.  I have to sweat to Jillian Michaels if I want to keep carrying my growing children.  And there's a strange payoff that happens as a result of all this effort to take care of my body:  I love it.  I never once looked in a mirror as a teenager and liked what I saw.  I always felt as though I was lacking.  Now, 30 pounds heavier and 5 times stronger, I like my body.  I feel proud of what I can do with it.  I feel good when I run long distances.  I'm glad to be able to keep up with my kids.

That's why it makes sense to me that Paul says, in 1 Corinthians 12, that the church is one BODY.  "God has placed each part in the body just as he wanted it to be.  If all the parts were the same, how could there be a body?  As it is, there are many parts.  But there is only one body."  I am a part of the body.  When I was young, I took that for granted.  I assumed all the people who loved me and took care of me would always be there.  I looked down on people who acted or spoke or believed differently than me.  I assumed there was only one right way to be a Christian.  I felt entitled to that community, though I did nothing to make it better.  I wasn't taking my place in the body.

Now I'm an adult.  I'm learning how to take care of my physical body as I'm also learning to love and care for the spiritual body of which I am a part.  I can still remember, when I had returned to church and began spending time with the youth group, how one of the other adults just rubbed me the wrong way.  I rolled my eyes when she spoke.  I mentally contradicted her.  Initially, I assumed that I was doing something right, and that she was getting it all wrong.  Most of this revolved around me feeling young and relevant, and her, with her ever-present knitting needles and glasses on the end of her nose, seeming old and out of touch.  But then I really saw her, because I saw how the students responded to her.  They loved her.  They liked what she brought to the group.  And they liked me too, so I began to see that her presence didn't diminish mine.  Instead, we expanded each other, the way a hand needs an arm or a foot needs a leg.  They look different from each other, they do different things, but they work together to get it done.  We need them both.

With this shattering realization came a whole second look at the people around me.  I didn't need to feel inferior because someone else was really good at organizing trips or liked teaching preschoolers. I didn't need to feel superior because some people weren't great at talking to strangers or remembering chunks of Scripture.  I could see more clearly my part of a greater whole, and how much better it was for each of us to do the work before us, together, than for each of us to try to do everything alone.

Working for it

I'm still learning how to take care of my body.  I make mistakes, like thinking that blueberry muffins are healthy (because...fruit!).  I make the wrong choice, like drinking that half gallon of Pepsi today instead of water (because...sugar!).  I do what feels comfortable instead of what I know is right, like sitting on the couch and binge watching "Orange is the New Black" rather than training for an upcoming race (because...Crazy Eyes!  Pennsatucky!  Big Boo!  Sofia!  Taystee!  Lorna!  Wow, I love, like, every character on that show).

The same goes with my spiritual body.  I know I'm not getting it right every time.  I know I've made mistakes in the past.  I know I've chosen comfort over what is right.  But I keep coming back to Paul's words, "If one part suffers, every part suffers with it.  If one part is honored, every part shares in its joy."  Our body is suffering right now.  It is hurting, because there are hurt people in our churches, and there are hurt people no longer coming to our churches.  This body isn't just the one building where I attend every other Sunday, or a single denomination, this body is the CHURCH, every single person on the face of the planet who believes in Jesus who is living and who has ever lived.

That's.  My.  Body.

That's who I need to care about.  That's who I need to work with.  That's where I need to get in my place and do my part.  Let's recommit to each other like it's New Year's Day, and this is the year we get in shape.  Let's reach for the water bottle and ride our bikes to work and skip that second dessert by seeing the good in each other, seeing the purpose and necessity in a body with many diverse parts, giving each other permission to use our eyes to see and our ears to hear and our hands to hold.  Let's stop insisting that everyone be a foot or an elbow, or thinking that just because we've never seen the lungs before, that they must not be part of the body.

God has placed each part in the body just as he wanted it to be.  So let's get that body race-ready.

Run your race