Resolving the Corporeal Contradiction

Yesterday, I was in the sanctuary listening to a sermon that was incredibly powerful in its simplicity. In a sermon entitled "In Practice" (http://1000wallace.org/713787954920), Pastor Callahan explained, or rather reminded us of the physical and spiritual importance of baptism and communion. I am not here to recap much of that...because you just need to watch, listen to, receive, and live the sermon for yourself. I am thinking about a conversation that I had just 24 hours prior about the trauma that the body tends to remember. I live in a body that remembers physical and emotional trauma and from time to time, serves up reminders in the form of incapacitating headaches, insomnia, aches and pains, and various other physical maladies. It's unfortunate because I don't always treat the physical symptoms for what they actually are. I mean, who treats unresolved grief with Advil, right? 

I am fortunate, in that I don't have trouble with movement. I mean, I am not the most graceful and coordinated person on the planet (or in the pew) but I have a pretty good range of motion...for a woman of a certain age! (I get points for still being able to do a pretty good cartwheel and a perfect round-off!) As I listened to the sermon, I heard the screeching sound of brakes and the two thoughts crashed in my mind. The same body that throws toddler hissy fits in the form of insomnia and migraines is the same body that went down into the water as an act of demonstrating my decision to follow the One who had indeed lived, died, and returned with all power in His hands. This corporeal contradiction was wrestling with the thought that these same limbs that reach towards heaven in an act of worship are the same ones that fall limp at my sides when I can't take life's pressures anymore. These same hands that hold the communion wafer and cup are the ones that held my aching head just 24 hours earlier. These same legs that walked down the aisle when I decided to join this particular body of believers at the corner of 10th and Wallace streets are the ones that collapse under the weight of the unresolved grief that they carry from pillar to post every day. These legs that bend at the knee for prayer also bend at the knee when I find myself in fetal position because I cannot navigate the raging waters of the day. 

This morning, I remembered the words of a woman who encouraged me to participate in the dance ministry of the church to which I belonged at the time. I don't think she knew that I have deeply ingrained body issues (which I mask with red lipstick and cute shoes to draw attention away from the middle ground) and I had a hard time relaxing into...well...real time confession, since I just stopped and realized that my shoulders had crept up to my ears in a well known gesture of fear, insecurity and tension, let's just say that I have a hard time relaxing. We would warm up with an unchoreographed time of "just moving in whatever way we felt led". That healed me then and continues to heal me now. I often wonder how it is possible to be such a walking contradiction - literally. Then, I remember to "just move" and I remember that I am not merely the sum of my experiences but I am also made in the image of the Divine. We waited for and celebrated for the One we call Emmanuel - God with us - but sometimes, I forget that God is not only with me but in me. 

When I remember my baptism, I smile and I am encouraged to remember that I have been and continue to be transformed. I remember hearing "take me to the water, take me to the water, take me to the water, to be bap-tized" and I remember the splash of the cool water. I remember the billow of the white robe and I remember wondering if that cap would keep my fresh press and curl intact. I remember my pastor smiling at me as he brushed the droplets from my face with his hand. I remember feeling incredibly loved and welcomed although I had been an active part of the body of believers for my entire life. I remember imagining the sight of angels rejoicing as I came up out of the water and walked into the arms of a deaconess who embraced me in a huge white towel. Even in the midst of the corporeal contradiction, I remember that embrace and I remember that I am always embraced in the cocoon of God's love as shown in the actions of God's people as I live out the strenuous and often painful work of being transformed. 

When I take communion and remember the Lamb of God who takes away the sins of the world, I also remember that in this, there is an ASSURANCE of pardon and I am encouraged to live as if it is so...because it is so. I feel the wafer dissolve in my mouth and remind myself that not only is God's name safe in my mouth but God must be safe in my mouth and body because I promised to make that the dwelling place when I accept this gift of a broken body.  As the wine passes from the edge of a plastic cup into my mouth and down my throat, I remember that the blood that was shed for me fuels the change. Even when my shell feels weak and inefficient, there is a reminder that what is inside of me will regenerate what is on the outside. This act resolves the corporeal contradiction because when I feel like I cannot...I am reminded that I can. 

When I remember that God is not only with me but in me...I move. I live, I move and I have my being, and when I move, it is an act of worship. Movement is not just an exercise to maintain the physical body that I have been given. In these simple acts of worship, movement is an act of exercising my right to live life abundantly and when I move in worship, I exercise my faith and exorcise the demons. Fear of movement is replaced with fluidity of movement. Every movement is not an act of joy but the nature of movement is that it allows me to be fully where I am in one moment and then, when the body and mind are ready, transform that moment into the next one. This morning, I stretched the tired muscles that did not get the proper rest last night. This morning, as I knelt to pray, I heard the popping and creaking of body parts that have been at work for 44 years. I am not discouraged by this. This morning, as I worship with every movement, every gesture, every keystroke as I type this entry...I am not only exercising the corporeal gift...I am the embodiment of a Christian life...in practice.

Go and do likewise!

Shalom!