A few years ago in grad school, I was taking a course that reflected on embodied theology. Embodied theology recognizes that our faith is not just a part of our life, but encompasses our entire being. This theology grows out of the recognition that when Jesus rose from the dead, He still bore the scars of His crucifixion. The professor was talking about how we will be reunited with our bodies in Heaven, and suddenly, I felt tears start to fall. He spoke up, “Allie, what are your thoughts on this?” and I replied, “but I don’t want my body in Heaven, I thought Heaven was supposed to be perfect.”
Have you ever felt this way? Burdened by a body that just isn’t quite right?
My struggle with my body started early. I went on my first diet when I was 12 years old. I started with WeightWatchers, switched to SlimFast, counted calories, restricted food groups, skipped meals and spent every spare moment trying anything to be smaller.
There is an online meme where women ask their male partners how often they think about the Roman Empire, and the comical responses tend to be “several times a day” or “constantly.” I saw a follow-up video that asked “What is your Roman Empire?” as in, what is something you are always thinking about, something always at the back of your mind.
My Roman Empire is losing weight.
I cannot remember a time in my life where I wasn’t cognizant of my weight, my size, or what my body looked like. It is similarly difficult to remember a time where I wasn’t actively trying to change all of those things.
I live in two worlds: when I am dieting and when I am waiting to diet again.
It is easy to get to the point of “where does this end?” When will I finally be satisfied with my body? When will enough be enough?
What is the magic pant size where I will finally love myself? I just can’t seem to find it.
For so long, my faith was separate from my body. My faith is in my heart, my mind, my soul. My body is something separate. In this way, my weight, size, and shape is not something I want God to be a part of. I read in 1 Corinthians 3 about my body being God’s temple and I, like Adam and Eve in the garden, hide because of my shame.
Which brings me back to my grad school class, and the recognition that our faith is not separate from our bodies, but we have an embodied faith. Christ did not die on the cross for just our spirit, but for our flesh, our broken, sinful, God-created flesh.
How do I reconcile this? I always dreamed about Heaven being the place where I was finally free from my body – this flesh sack that I’ve been burdened with. But what if God doesn’t love me in spite of my body? What if God’s love is far more encompassing than the love I have felt from the world and from myself?
This body obsession and hatred cannot be the life God has in mind for me.
God doesn’t love me less because of my weight.
He doesn’t look at my life and count it as a loss because of my size.
God doesn’t withhold His blessings because of my struggle.
How do we apply this to our lives, though? How can we carry the dichotomy of the all-encompassing love of Jesus Christ and the Satan-fueled self-hatred we cling to?
Unfortunately, there is no quick fix. But, instead, a daily submission to the One who created us. It’s crying out our lament to God and praising Him for this life. It is praying for the love He has for us to be reflected in the mirror, and recognizing how the fall into sin in the Garden of Eden not only broke our relationship with God and others, but with ourselves. It’s Scripture and prayer and worship and crying out to God. But it is not a road we walk alone.
One year ago, I walked into an eating disorder specialist’s office and shared my story. I was waiting for her to tell me that my struggle with food, exercise, and weight was normal, that I was wasting her time. But instead, she kindly and compassionately walked me through how my symptoms fit the criteria of an eating disorder. That day, I left her office with a diagnosis and a treatment plan for my eating disorder. Over the next 6 months, I met with this specialist, talked about the habits, obsessions, and patterns I developed over my life. We talked about where these things came from, how they started, and how they morphed into an eating disorder. For the first time in my life, I stopped dieting, or planning my next diet.
Does this mean that the shape and size of my body does not matter and that I can live a life that dishonors what God has created? By no means. But it surely doesn’t mean that God created me to hate my body my entire life until I die.
With complete transparency, I am still in the midst of all of this. I don’t have the answers. I can’t say that I magically now love my body and also lost weight without trying and my relationship with food and exercise is now perfect.
But I can wake up every day and recognize the blessings of the Lord for a new day. I am learning how to be kind to my body, and to trust in the strength my body does have, no matter the size. I turn my hateful thoughts into prayers – asking God for guidance, for encouragement, for grace upon grace.
Just as Jesus bore His scars after His resurrection, we also carry scars of a sinful world.
But Jesus’ scars didn’t make Him less, but showed the abundance of God’s mercy and love.
I pray that my scars and yours become a reminder that God is within it all – and that His mercy and love can be a part of every aspect of our lives, including our bodies.
If you are struggling with disordered eating or an eating disorder, a great resource is found at the National Eating Disorder Association (https://www.nationaleatingdisorders.org/).