A Gift, Not a Problem to Solve
Restoring Our Relationship with the Body God Gave Us
Somewhere along the way, many of us stopped seeing our bodies as gifts and started treating them as projects.
I know I did.
I can’t tell you the exact moment it happened, but I can tell you where I first began to notice it. We each have our own stories of how those messages found us. This is one of mine.
From fifth through ninth grade, I was the girl who wore the back brace for scoliosis. But somewhere during those years, I learned something that had very little to do with my spine. I learned to compare my body with everyone else’s. Comparison quietly reshaped the way I saw what God had made.
Looking back, I can see that this was the beginning of a fracture—not just in how I viewed my body, but in how I related to myself and even to God. I began evaluating what He had made instead of receiving it with gratitude.
Over the years, I’ve watched people whose bodies are visibly different walk onto beaches, into pools, and through life with a freedom I’ve quietly admired. Some have prosthetic legs or arms. Some carry visible scars. I don’t know their stories, and I certainly don’t assume their journeys have been easy. But something about the way they carried themselves made me wonder, “What do they have that I don’t?”
As I’ve reflected on that question, I’ve realized I may have been asking the wrong one. Maybe what I was noticing wasn’t something they possessed. Maybe it was their relationship with their bodies.
We all have something. A scar. Wrinkles. A larger body. Stretch marks. A body part we wish looked different. Chronic illness. Disability. Aging. Or an insecurity no one else even notices.
While the specifics differ, many of us know what it feels like to carry a quiet disappointment about the body we’ve been given—not because something is wrong with it, but because of the messages that have gradually shaped the way we see it.
Perhaps freedom looks less like changing our bodies and more like healing the way we’ve come to see them. After all, these aren’t just bodies we’ve been given. They are the handiwork of a loving Creator.
As a Christian, I know my identity isn’t determined by a number on a scale, a clothing size, or the alignment of my spine. I know that truth. Yet there are still places in me that absorbed a different message—that my body doesn’t quite measure up to an ever-changing cultural ideal. Those old beliefs don’t disappear overnight.
Paul writes, “Do not conform any longer to the pattern of this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your mind.” The NLT says it this way, “Let God transform you into a new person by changing the way you think.” (Romans 12:2) — I think God is inviting us into a new way of thinking—one that changes the way we see the bodies He has created.
As I’ve been paying attention to all this, I’ve noticed something else. My struggle doesn’t only show up when I’m discouraged about my body. Sometimes it appears when I like the number on the scale or what I see in the mirror. The relief I feel in those moments can quietly become another measure of my worth.
It’s simply another way I ask my body to answer a question only God can answer.
Whether my body seems to measure up or not, my identity was never meant to rest there. It rests in the God who created me and calls me His own. As long as my body remains the measure of my worth, I’ll either feel like I’m failing or succeeding. Either way, I’ve asked it to carry a weight it was never made to carry.
If God is inviting us to think differently about His handiwork, healing often begins the same way any relationship is restored. It starts by paying attention. By noticing. By listening without immediately trying to fix. By offering grace where self-criticism has lived for years. By becoming curious instead of critical.
One practice God has been quietly using to change me is gratitude. It’s surprisingly hard to remain disconnected from my body while thanking Him for it.
Thank You for fingers that can write these words. Thank You for my lungs that work tirelessly without conscious thought. Thank You for ears that hear my dog’s footsteps on the floor. Thank You for my pinky toe that helps me stay balanced.
Gratitude doesn’t erase every insecurity, but over time, God brings about a quiet transformation.
David's prayer in Psalm 139 can become our prayer too.
“Search me, O God, and know my heart... See if there is any offensive way in me, and lead me in the way everlasting.” (Psalm 139:23–24)
Search me, O God. Show me the beliefs I’ve been carrying about this body You’ve entrusted to me. Reveal the places where shame has spoken louder than Your voice. Replace the messages I’ve absorbed from a changing culture with the truth that I am fearfully and wonderfully made. And then, God, would you teach me to receive this body as a gift—not a problem to solve.
You may be wondering if paying attention to our thoughts about our bodies simply turns our focus inward. I’ve wondered that too.
Many of us have been carrying thoughts about our bodies for so long that we’ve stopped noticing the weight of them. The quiet self-criticism. The comparison. The feeling that we’ll be ready to fully participate in the work God has prepared for us someday—when we finally measure up.
Jesus invites the weary and burdened to come to Him. I wonder if some of the burdens He longs to lift are the ones we’ve quietly carried about our own bodies for years. If shame has fractured our relationship with our bodies, perhaps grace is one of the ways He begins restoring it.
And as those burdens become lighter, something else begins to grow. We become a little freer to delight in the handiwork of God, a little more present to the people around us, and a little more available for the work He’s prepared for us. In a world that teaches us to measure and compare, that kind of freedom quietly points beyond ourselves—to the God who is restoring us.
Please hear this: I’m still learning. I still have days when old thoughts resurface. But little by little, I’m becoming less interested in fixing what God has made and more interested in receiving what He has already given me.
If this resonates with you, I’d love for you to join me in this practice.
A Gentle Invitation
· What belief about your body might God be inviting you to release?
· What would change if you received your body as a gift today?
As you go through this week, simply notice what thoughts arise about your body —not to judge yourself, but to become aware of them. Awareness is often where restoration begins.
I’d love to hear what you discover. Leave a comment below or reply to this email.
Til next time,
Lisa
If this encouraged you, consider sharing it with someone who may need the gentle reminder that their body is a gift—not a problem to solve.
This piece has been quietly growing in me for a long time. I hope it offers grace to anyone who has ever felt at war with the body they've been given.
Photo credit: Canva
I always get excited with your articles hit my inbox!
Line that resonates: "Either way, I’ve asked it to carry a weight it was never made to carry."
Concept that resonates: Interactions with our body are relational.
"If God is inviting us to think differently about His handiwork, healing often begins the same way any relationship is restored."
I am learning that being 62 means (for me) that I care much less what others think about, well...anything, lol. But...this age is also sometimes shocking me with just how much I am sometimes feeling my age. For the last two days, I have had pretty intense body pain. What have I done? And how can I turn that gift of pain into gratitude? Well. To start, I am grateful that I lived after an impaired driver caused the accident that broke 14 of my bones. Praise God for allowing me to live and raise my children! Gratitude leads to Faith and Faith leads to Peace. Thanks as always for your posts!