So, those in Christian circles like to throw around the word “stewardship” a lot.
I like the word. It’s definitely the best word for the concept behind it. There’s just a small problem though… well, actually two. 1) We don’t really talk about “stewards” that much these days and 2) when we do, it just seems like kind of a boring topic.
However, I’ve had an interesting thought about stewardship lately. Please bear with me as I dedicate this post to the topic!
A brief synopsis of the Christian stewardship idea is this: if we believe that everything that is "ours" is actually a gift from Almighty God, we automatically turn into stewards of these things that actually aren’t "ours" but His. We become responsible for what we do with these gifts that He has entrusted to us to take care of and use wisely. The big one here that people like to talk about is money. Duh. But we’re also a steward of our time, our bodies, our resources, our influence, etc.
My recent thought is that active participants in contemporary Christian culture tend to be pretty good stewards of their time and money. Maybe this is because we feel like we have a guideline for it in the generally accepted principle of 10% tithing. Maybe because we love our churches, we feel called to serve when our pastors ask us to serve, or when we recognize the need for service.
However, what I’ve noticed (starting primarily with my own attitudes and behaviors and then increasing my observation outward to others) is that what we’re not so great at is being good stewards of our bodies. I think there are many reasons for this (including Americans’ incessant need to feel in control and in charge of things that are “theirs” without “interference” from anyone else. That’s another post for another time.) However, the main reason I’ve stumbled upon is this:
We think what we do with our bodies doesn’t matter to God. Here’s the thing; when I think about the spirit of God living within me, I tend think of it as this little "God Pocket" that floats right in the middle of my chest… that hollow part right below your sternum and in between your ribs. I mean, it’s a perfect little spot for Him right there!
It’s easy think this way because it’s safe, and because it excuses behaviors that aren’t honoring to our bodies. If I think this way, I can kind of think to myself "Hey, what goes in my stomach doesn’t bother God… He’s not in there!" For friends that use tobacco: "It doesn’t matter what I put in my mouth or lungs, it’s not like I’m hurting God there." For anyone in an inappropriate sexual relationship: "Look, this is like a whole other half of the body… He’s definitely not down here." Etc.
It’s easy to be concerned about the emotional state of your heart, or the psychological state of your brain, or the spiritual state of your soul, because those things seem relevant to the God who lives inside you. Whatever happens in your other random organs just seems… not as much. He’s living in the little God Pocket, remember? It’s like… barricaded from these things by a magical orb of holiness!
Hmmm… not so, actually.
One of the best learning experiences I have ever had was my senior year of college when my bible study leader/ discipler Lindsey set up a walk-through mock tabernacle in her basement. It was set up according to all of the qualifications for the ancient temple, from the sacrificial bowl out front to the Ark of the Covenant all the way in the back. It was fascinating! My favorite part, though, was the story she told us about the Holy of Holies, where the Ark of the Covenant (ie: the spirit of the living God) was housed. Once a year (on Yom Kippur – the Jewish Day of Atonement), the chief priest would enter the Holy of Holies to offer sacrifices to the Lord on behalf of all of the people of Israel. He was the only one ever allowed to enter the presence of the Lord, and when he did, he wore two things around his waist: a rope, and some bells. Why? The bells were so the other priests (who were standing outside the Holy of Holies) could hear the priest inside moving around. The rope? So they could pull out the high priest in the event he were struck dead by God when he entered. They would know this to be the case if the bells stopped ringing.
Seriously. This must have happened more than once, for they had quite a genius system going. Here he was… the very high priest… the holiest of all people in the entire nation of Israel, bringing with him the absolute best, most perfect sacrifice he could find, entering the tabernacle, which was immaculately kept according to God’s commands (take a look at Exodus 35-40 for a LONGGGG list of instructions)… and sometimes God would strike him dead if any part of his entering the Holy of Holies defiled it. Boom. Dead. Reel in the rope.
That makes me think. If my body is the new temple of God (1 Corinthians 6:19)… I’m doing an unspeakably poorer job of keeping it holy than those priests of old did. Praise God for His grace because if the old rules still applied, He’d have struck me dead longgggg ago! And the reality is that maybe God doesn’t live in my stomach, or maybe He does. Or maybe he doesn’t live in my lungs, or on my skin, or in my eyes, or wherever else… or maybe He does. What we do with our bodies matters to God because He doesn’t just live in a special God Pocket – “Holy of Holies” place inside our ribcage. Our whole body is His new temple, and that means that His resting place is affected by what we chose to do with and do to our bodies. Respecting our bodies means respecting the holiness of the God who lives there… respecting His grace, His gift of the Spirit, and His sacrifice for us. We are to honor our bodies, for we were bought at a price. (1 Corinthians 6:20)
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