Spirituality of the Human Body

     Today, confronting the need for a scooter, and doing so with surprising acceptance, I am taken back to the deep sense of the spirituality of the human body.  Often we talk about human flesh in condescending terms, if that is the right phrase.  In contrast, many people talk glowingly of the Body of Christ.  
     I may be mistaken in my perception.  I am willing to be told so, or enlightened by a clarifying perspective.
     In no way do I mean to disparage the richness of the Body of Christ.  Quite to the contrary.
     What I do mean is that there is a treasury missed, when we speak of human flesh as the embodiment of our foibles--that behavior and values that we should avoid.  Material excesses are not the sole province of the human flesh.  Nor are material excesses void of any pearls of wisdom.  Not by a long shot.
     As a Christian, I am guided to create a life that embodies the values of Christ--I am invited to be a part of the Body of Christ.  But, does that mean my physical body is to be left behind in the dust?  Is my body just an inanimate, hollow part of my being that is nothing more than a shell to protect something that is more precious?  I don't think so.
    Again and again, my body knocks me on my head, and asks, "Are you listening to me?  How much pain must I inflict upon you, before you open your mind to my voice?  Is it possible that I may be your teacher?  May I be your guide?  Do you get mad at me for not living up to your mind's expectations of what I am supposed to do--what I am supposed to be for you?  Am I here to serve your immediate needs?  Or do I contain any pearls of wisdom that might deepen your understanding and appreciation of the aspects of your life beyond of your human flesh?"
   I am no saint in this regard.  Believe me.  I resist my body's campaign to compromise what I consider to  my God-given right of normalcy.  Can we surrender our resistance.  For me, I know that the harder I resist, the more my body pushes back, and challenges me to redefine my expectations of normalcy. Can we surrender our resistance?
   I never imagined that I might be one of THOSE people, who move through their lives on wheels.  It seemed counter to everything I had been raised to do--everything to which I should aspire.  Slowly--ever slowly--I am moving to what seemed counterintuitive.  In some way, I have been guided to be honest about my fears, gentle with my expectations.  It is essential to redefining what this new way of living is to be.
   Moving toward a different way of living calls me to return to my human body AND to the Body of Christ. To do one without the other will stop a different way of living dead in her tracks.
    I have not figured out the words that aptly describe what this new life will be.  In the terms of my peers, I am retired.  I no longer work in the 9-to-5, 40-hour work week world.  In legal terms, I am on long-term disability.  My human body called the shots there.  She gave me those words.  She challenged--she challenges--me to redefine those labels, or find more fitting words.
   Yet, neither term describes me satisfactorily.  Among my highest values are words--carefully chosen words.  So, I listen.  I listen to my human body--the body I have given to live.  I listen to the Body of Christ.  I ask to be moved toward a new way of living.  Remind me I am a vessel--every ounce of me--and not a carcass to be abused.
    I set out to express myself.  I am never quite sure where I will be taken, or what words might come through my fingers' movements.  Amazing.  Absolutely amazing.