My body is not a temple, but a broken down house.
Some people follow the philosophy, “My body is a temple”. I however, disagree with that thought. MY body is more like a broken down house. It is not perfect, the walls do not necessarily create the 90* angles which they are supposed too. It needs and requires love and upkeep. No, my body is definitely not a temple. When someone says “temple” I think of pristine, shiny tiles and magnificent art work – something more fitting for a God. I am the farthest thing from pristine and shiny, nor do I wish to be those things. My body is NOT a temple, or anything closely related.
My body is my home. I AM a soul, but I HAVE a body. It’s a temporary home for my soul which, God willing, will enter Heaven one day and be at peace. But until then, I owe it to myself to rebuild the broken parts of my old house, to repaint any cracked walls, to repair the steps, to unclog the kitchen sink, to hang pictures on the walls, and to give it a good sweep. There are things about myself that I absolutely deplore. I won’t indulge you in those weaknesses, because they do not matter. The things about myself that I appreciate are the things that will hopefully shine through the windows of my house. I love my arms because they are strong and lean. My arms hold up my instrument and my fingers play the music. My hands are far from pretty, but they serve a greater purpose – my hands praise God. I appreciate the calluses that have formed across my fingers. I appreciate the scar that shines clean on my neck. I protect my hands and my arms because they bring me joy with what they do. They are used to praise my Saviour, Jesus Christ. I will always love my arms and hands because they call me to a greater purpose, they call me to give and to be a part of something much grater than myself.
What do I do with the rest of my house though?! I must keep it clean and tidy, although it’s alright to occasionally fall apart. I owe it to my land lord, which is Jesus Christ, to keep my house in order. I must feed it, and tend to it’s weak spots. I must make sure it gets enough rest and enough water. I must allow it to feel what it longs to have numbed out and I must force it to work through what it wishes could be forgotten. There are days that the paint on my house peels off in one piece. There are days that it peels little tiny shreds at a time. But I must make the walls bare and vulnerable if I wish to get to the support beams and make my house stronger. Sometimes the changes that my house goes through so quickly, can scare my soul. I’m easily frightened and sometimes I take a step back and see what is truly progress, as a disaster. I pray for serenity and clearness of mind as I design my house. I want what I create to honor God.
And so I like metaphors. I also like living. I like nurturing my soul with “soul food” such as cozy blankets, yummy coffee, classical music, close friendships, starry nights, early mornings, holding hands, journaling, pillow fights, but most importantly, the word of God. That is the true soul food, for me at least.
And so friends, I leave you with this:
1 Corinthians 6:20
“For you were bought with a price. So glorify God in your body.”