Women and Their Wonderful Bodies
During one of the last golden days of summer I watched the sun illuminate a forest of changing aspen leaves. Each aspen glowed as a piece of God’s handiwork. As I sat into the silence I didn’t hear any aspen bemoan their figure or their hair or their height.
God says he made the trees of the fields. He also said he made women. Female bodies are his handiwork, beautifully and wonderfully made by the same Maker of aspen trunks and leaves (see Psalm 139:14). But, if you and I stood for hours before a light that illuminated our hair, chins, breasts, waists and legs, would we glow with joy in the light?
Wouldn’t our conversation turn to self-critique, if not of our bodies, then those of our neighbors? The impulse to pick apart the female body has become a regular temptation to me in my 17th week of pregnancy. As God knits my baby together, is he still delighted in my body, the vessel for this new life? My breasts, my belly, my feet, are they still wonderfully made?
All created things bask in the light, unconcerned about their physical bodies, from aspen, my three Welsh corgis, even honey bees. I mean, can you imagine aspen talking like women do?
“I can’t get my leaves to lay right, HER leaves are always perfect.”
“Her trunk is the perfect figure, doesn’t matter what I do mine will always be thicker.”
The sturdiest, thickest aspen soaks up the sunbeams, honoring God as much as the sleek and svelte one. None complain.
Our bodies, Paul says, are the temple of the Holy Spirit (1 Cor. 6:19). I think back to Solomon’s temple and Moses’ instructions for the original tabernacle. In these places God designed everything, curtains of twisted linen, embroidered blue, purple and scarlet yarn, bronze clasps, silver bases, gold hooks, fine gems, pomegranates and bells—all for glory and beauty (Exodus 36-40). Our bodies, the new temples, are also meant for glory and beauty.
If you or I saw God’s tabernacle, we would not leap to criticize its girth or color or stonework. If we came upon the trees of Mamre and saw a sign that read, “God’s trees,” we would not disparage their size or height. But when we read, “Your body is a temple of the Holy Spirit,” we think this means something about serving God with our bodies, but we don’t afford our bodies the same reverence and intentional appreciation we reserve for other sanctuaries.
Women’s bodies don’t seem like temples because we’re always bucking our sacred statues. We have free wills which most of us employ for dyeing, dieting, squishing, stuffing, ignoring, berating or generally ignoring our bodies. We’ve marred the handiwork God made in our flesh. Our shame haunts us into buying cover-ups for our hips at the beach, concealer for our acne scars, creams for stretch marks. We’ll buy pills to lose weight, shoes to lengthen and tone our legs, styles that flatter the parts of our bodies we want others to notice. But we all have places we firmly believe are not wonderfully made. Nothing I write will disabuse you of your conviction.
And honestly, few people can convince me that Jesus still calls the parts of my body I’ve marred myself. Thinking that my body is God’s holy temple only deepens my shame. Surely, God doesn’t not want my scars.
The poet and rector, George Herbert (1593-1633), in “Love” still gives me hope that my marred female body is something marvelous to God. If you’re not much of a poetry reader, take these lines of verse as a story and read them aloud. Do not let the old English keep you from trying to imagine yourself in the poem.
Love
By George Herbert[i]
LOVE bade me welcome; yet my soul drew back,
Guilty of dust and sin.
But quick-eyed Love, observing me grow slack
From my first entrance in,
Drew nearer to me, sweetly questioning
If I lack’d anything.
‘A guest,’ I answer’d, ‘worthy to be here:’
Love said, ‘You shall be (s)he.’
‘I, the unkind, ungrateful? Ah, my dear,
I cannot look on Thee.’
Love took my hand and smiling did reply,
‘Who made the eyes but I?’
‘Truth, Lord; but I have marr’d them: let my shame
Go where it doth deserve.’
‘And know you not,’ says Love, ‘Who bore the blame?’
‘My dear, then I will serve.’
‘You must sit down,’ says Love, ‘and taste my meat.’
So I did sit and eat.
The God of love invites the broken and marred bodies of his children to dine with him. One line in Herbert’s poem has echoed in my mind for a decade now, “And know you not, Who bore the blame?” His eyes are not shocked by my marred body and disgusted thoughts for myself, for Love’s body is also broken and marred. He wants scarred women, for he is the scarred Savior.
Now, in the power of this Love, my body is for the Lord and my Lord is for my body, my task is to ask how, precisely, I am fearfully and wonderfully made (1 Cor 6:14). I ask it daily, especially as I watch my body swelling and a baby being formed inside of me.
Few Christian articles for women celebrate our unique female body parts, the ones that God made. This does not mean that Christian women don’t have opinions about their womb, breasts, vagina, legs, height and weight. Christian’s silence and perhaps embarrassment means that we end up turning to fashion magazines to tell us what to think about our sexuality. We will learn quickly how laugh lines on our faces and stretch marks on our breasts cannot be honorable badges of this long warfare, earned because we have seasons and wisdom. Feeling ashamed, we hunt out any product to “fix” the evidence of where we’ve been. Without Jesus I will demand my “pre-pregnancy” body back as a need and right, forgetting to honor my body as God’s temple and a vessel that brought us our firstborn.
I’d like to include our Savior in on my body image. I’d like to ask him, “How do I live into my born identity as a woman, observing my body with more awareness and delight?” We need more discussion about women’s bodies, the way our hips and legs, hands and height, our womb and breasts are unique ways we can own the heritage of being made female, reflecting the image of God. I want companions who help me ask Jesus questions about my body’s value and wondrous power, my scars’ worth and distinct advantage in this broken world.
If we are called to influence, why not begin with influencing women to value the heritage of their bodies, these gifts from God, that now belong to God? If our God made us to stand in the light, like the aspen, then let’s rise and enjoy the warm brilliance illuminating our bodies.
[i] The New Oxford Book of English Verse 1250-1950, edited by Helen Gardner (New York: Oxford University Press, 1972), 253.
“Women and Their Wonderful Bodies” first appeared in Kyria‘s Inaugural Issue, Fall 2009.
February 14th, 2010 at 9:03 am
Jonalyn, I agree and just wanted to share some of my own personal growth in this area. In college I battled anorexia and as you could imagine my self-image and view of my body was completely distorted and out of line with God’s desire. But, as God healed me and brought me out of darkness and into His glorious light, He has also brought my body into His light. (Much like you describe with the Aspens). While I don’t always love what I see, most days I do. Not in a prideful way, but like you describe, in a way that is thankful…for the curves, (or lack thereof, ha!) and thankful that I once again look like a woman. My prayer is for any woman, but especially those who have battled an eating disorder, to someday know the freedom that God can bring when you are able to look at your body as one of His creations that He says is “Good”.
While there are scars on my body that will never go away, I look at them now and see healing rather than shame. To see how God took a wound that I had inflicted and healed it, but yet left it as a reminder of His grace is beautiful to me, no longer painful.
I rejoice in the fact that I am a woman, and that the Lord has entrusted me with something so sacred as a body, mind, spirit and soul.
On a side note, I also want to say that I strongly feel that pregnant women are the most beautiful form of a woman. There is something markedly powerful about a growing life inside of woman, plus the fact that she is getting to be a part of God’s work in creating life! It is rather poignant the way a woman grows and changes as she is pregnant. I look forward to that in my own life some day!
Thanks.
February 26th, 2010 at 4:53 pm
Shelby,
I value your words here. Thank you for sharing so beautifully!
Jonalyn
March 9th, 2010 at 4:18 pm
My pastor had me look up this article today as we were talking about my battle with anorexia, it is inspiring and beautiful, just as he described it. Thanks so much for sharing this, he said that you would be at LT this summer in Estes Parks. I look forward to that and hearing what you have to say immensely.
May 25th, 2010 at 8:58 pm
Melanie – I look forward to meeting you.
Thanks for posting. A friend of mine has used her photography to explore and chronicle in visual form the battle women face with anorexia (based in part on her own battle). When she mounts these photos online, I’ll let you know here!