Where do you hurt? Pt. II

At 6am, my alarm buzzes, and I put my contacts on and go into the living room.  My morning starts with 10-15 minutes of gentle yoga, sometimes with classic music, but sometimes just silence.

I settle into breathing deeply, from my abdomen.  Deep breaths, in through the nose, out through the nose.  Or sometimes in through the nose, out through the mouth, loudly.

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My brain settles on my breath, already attempting to quiet my thoughts swirling around, even at such an early hour.  I am focused just on the present moment, not my to-do list.

This is when I hear the Lord ask me, “Where do you hurt?”  

There is something humbling about stating brokenness at the very onset of the day.  But instead of feeling depressed or especially broken by that question, the question is an invitation.

An invitation to be human.  An invitation that I don’t need to be a superhero today.  An invitation to accept my particular limits this day.  An invitation that the Lord wants to hear about my brokenness.  An invitation to be reminded that He comes near to the broken.

Today I answered, “My teeth hurt.  I must have clenched them last night.  My right hip is tight, and much less flexible than yesterday.”

Sometimes the answers may be more emotional or spiritual in nature.  However I have found that telling the Lord how my body feels is especially important to me.

I need to be reminded daily that the Lord cares about my physical body.  He wants me to be aware of how to nurture and tend to my body daily, not give excuses for why my body should be last on my priority list.  He wants me to remember that He came to the earth in a body.

It’s weird at first.  Especially if, like me, you grew up in an environment in which there was a significant body vs. soul dichotomy.  But I remind myself that the Lord cares, even if your words sound crazy for awhile.

I’m still on a journey, where I’m trying to picture and visualize that while on earth Christ hurt in every place that have and will.  I don’t know how this is true, but in order to believe Christ was human and suffered such as me, I must see him lying in bed exhausted, his legs tired from walking, his stomach rumbling of hunger.

May we all accept His invitation to be human.  He created us to be human-nothing more, nothing less.

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