I hate to admit it, but I am obsessed with health. That’s right. Obsessed.
No, I’m not a vegan paleo triathlete or anything like that. My obsession has taken a different form.
For the past twenty some-odd years I have been fixated on NOT caring about health. I am obsessed with not being obsessed about it.
That’s not to say that I that I feed my family on white bread and Velveeta. I bake with whole grains and serve vegetables and salads. But I don’t go overboard with it.
To be fair, I treat my car the same way. I wait to fill it up with gas until I can coast into the station on fumes. And I never change the oil until I start to fear that it will cause engine trouble. I’m too busy to worry about maintenance.
And that is how I have approached the health of my body. I don’t make time for exercise, and I eat what I want to, when I want to. I sleep, but not as much as I should. I burn the midnight oil.
This lifestyle served me fine throughout my 20s. My 30s breezed by, too, with no problems. I just cruised along at top speed and never ran out of gas once. But now I am in my 40s, and I am starting to notice that the no-maintenance plan might not continue working as well as it did in the past. My body’s fuel tank seems to empty faster, and there are warning lights to alert me that maintenance may be needed.
I have always hated thinking about health! I wanted my time and energy solely focused on spiritual disciplines, not my physical discipline.
After all, I was pretty sure that the people who seemed to be obsessing about their weight or whether the eggs at the grocery store were truly organic had their priorities all messed up, and that they were not as kingdom-focused as me.
In short, I felt self-assured that I could sit on my couch eating chocolate cheese cake while feeling more spiritual than everyone else. Our enemy is indeed clever in how he tempts us.
If we are honest, many of us are tempted towards black and white thinking when it comes to our health. Some of us will be tempted to live like eating healthy and exercising are “fruits of the spirit.” Others–like me–will be tempted to forget that self control is a fruit of the spirit. The truly spiritually healthy path lies somewhere between these two ditches.
We would do well to remember that Satan may not care which of the two ditches we fall in, as long as we fall. It’s a bonus if he can get us to look down our noses at those on the other side.
The serpent will tempt many of you to think too much of caring for your bodies, turning the gift God has given you into an idol needing your devotion. The evil one would have us give far more devotion to our physical body than we do to the One who will raise our frail vessel from the dead.
In my effort to flee from this trap, our enemy hits me with a subtle, opposite temptation to over-emphasize the fact that my physical body is “passing away.” I can almost hear the whisper: “What you do with your body and health isn’t THAT important…after all, hasn’t God already ordained the number of your days from before time?”
God’s sovereignty over my life and death doesn’t give me license to do whatever I want with my body. I am supposed to faithfully steward it so that I can carry out my foreordained calling.
We need to come to terms with two truths:
1. We must remember that our bodies will ultimately fail us no matter how much care and devotion we show them. Our earthly beauty will fade and we will all one day die and return to dust. None of us is making it out of here alive, unless Christ returns first.
2. It is also true that our bodies matter. Therefore our stewardship of them matters. Paul says “Glorify God in your body,” (1 Corinthians 6:20). We are to exercise self-control and self-discipline as we engage in our kingdom work on this earth.
The world, our flesh, and the devil tempt us to pervert these truths to our ruin. They would see us give our devotion to failing flesh or diminish our effectiveness in ministry through ill health. They would see us not give due glory to the One who truly deserves it or be physically able to point others to do the same.
I’m still in process, but I’m convinced we need to find balance and stay on the narrow road that runs between these two ditches.
*First published on Visionary Womanhood
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