Yesterday I watched Ivy play on the sidewalk. It’s already hot in Texas, and she wanted to put on her swimsuit and play with the water hose. So we hauled out a whole village of Little People toys, and she happily ran around and sprayed water and created mud and laughed, and as I watched her a thought struck that surprised me. I thought, “It must be so wonderful to be Ivy because she doesn’t spend a second of her day thinking hateful thoughts about her body.” All she knows about her body is that it runs fast. It jumps high. It showcases princess dresses, and it helps her play with toys, paint, color, and do all of things that make her life fun.

I used to be that way, too. At one time, I appreciated my body and was grateful for it. But when I grew up and then started to grow old, things changed–not just my body, but my mind and heart. I developed some pretty hateful thoughts about the way that I feel I look at times, and somewhere along the way I let those thoughts crowd out the appreciation I once had for health, for strong legs that can carry me where I want to go, for a clear mind, for arms that can hold children, for the great blessing of being one of God’s image-bearers.

There are a few schools of thought about bodies in the Christian life. One is: if you aren’t eating clean and working out and getting the most out of your body that you possibly can, then you aren’t being a good steward of what God has given you. There’s some truth there. Another is: bodies are meaningless vessels and you shouldn’t waste a moment thinking about them because the soul is the thing–not the body. There’s even some truth there. But many Christians, especially women, are experiencing something very different from either of these ways of thinking. We live with a continual undercurrent of thought: my body, face, weight, height, shape is wrong.

Listen to how a woman will apologize to you about the way she looks. Often it’s the first thing she will say after hello. That’s because she is always, always thinking about it. They’re always there, those dissatisfied thoughts–those questions about how she compares to other women or to a younger version of herself. Add to these thoughts the absolute fact that women aren’t allowed to grow old anymore. When I was a child, 65 year old grandmas looked exactly like grandmas. Not now. Now grandmas are expected to be something else entirely, and a multi-billion dollar industry has been built on the messages that the very people who produce the products have pushed on us: we must look young and act young and spend all the money we can get our hands on to make it happen. It’s an amazingly effective racket.

But we don’t have to believe everything that the world tries to teach us about what we look like. I really can’t think of a better strategy coming out of hell than to cause Christian women to constantly be a little bit distracted by thoughts about our bodies. Every ounce of enjoyment, just a little tainted. Every moment of spiritual breakthrough just slightly dulled. Every blessed, God-given moment of pure beauty a tiny bit marred. Every potential moment of rest sort of tense–all because of that undercurrent of thought that says, “I wish my body was different.” Many of us live our entire adult lives thinking that some day, once we get our bodies to a better point, then we can focus more. Then we can do more for Christ.

Why not just choose to love and appreciate our bodies now? The way Ivy does. My body stepped out of bed today and walked me into Emerald’s room, and it let me curl her hair before school because she got a new haircut she really likes. This body picked up Ivy this morning and held her close. It ran through the house while we fled from imaginary snakes and chased pretend bad guys. These feet stood on tiptoe today so I could wrap my arms around Sawyer’s six foot tall frame. This brain holds a million details of our lives and holds the memories of my kids’ whole existence. These hands hold the hands of the man I’ve loved for 30 years. These hips have faithfully slung to one side so I could carry babies for over two decades. This body has so much to give. My face is gaining more wrinkles. You can really see them especially when I smile, which is a lot. This is the face my children know and like to see coming. This is the face my friends recognize with warm feeling. There is nothing wrong with my body.

I’m starting to make it a daily practice to thank God for the body that I have. He made it. He loves it. And He never intended for it to be a stumbling block in my spiritual growth. Please hear me. Bodies are blessings. The good God of the universe made them with tender care, and He sustains them day by day until He brings us home to Heaven. One day, these very bodies will be perfected, and we’ll happily own them for all eternity. Why live unhappily in them today? I’m sick of the old, tired undercurrent of body obsession. The only themes I want my mind to consistently cling to are joy and gratitude. Lord, let those two rule my heart and mind, and please bless this body that You made and love.