A couple of weeks ago, I wrote about the blessing of a broken body. The universe heard me, and just a few days later, my own broken body betrayed me and I wound up in urgent care. I didn’t tell anyone, but my siblings and the people I live with.
Since I went to the internet to talk about the blessing of a broken body, I feel the overwhelming responsibility to share the burden of a broken body, as well. It’s only right.
There is a special sense of shame and embarrassment when your body doesn’t function as you expect it to. There is the pain of the actual affliction, and then there is the pain of not being able to trust your own body to do what it has been designed to do. When knees won’t bend, and steady hands begin to shake, you heart aches for what used to be.
No matter what your ailment, when your body fails, you feel a smidge of shame and a bit of sorrow. At least , that’s true for me. It’s why not even my best friends knew about my trip to urgent care. I was literally on the phone with my aunt when I pulled into the parking lot, and I never even told her. The burden of a broken body is that you often feel the need to carry that burden on your own.
Shame. Embarrasment. Loneliness.
I wonder if that’s what Jesus felt, as his body that was broken for us, hung from the old rugged cross. I wonder if that’s how he feels when his body, the church, fails to do what he specifically designed it to do.
Jesus, in his infinite wisdom, is ever-loving, and overtly forgiving of his failed body. I believe he’s calling me to offer that same grace to my own body.
My prayer for all of us is that we are grateful for the bodies we have, no matter how broken they are. May we use whatever energy we have to bring light into this world.
Thank you, Lord for the blessing and the burden of this broken body.
Amen.
The Gospel According to Gabrielle 