As the snail secretes its shell so the soul secretes its body.
An ancient saying
For as a man thinks, so he is. Proverbs 23:7a
The real transformers.
Do not be conformed to the image of this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your mind (Romans 12 – read the whole chapter) There is a command there. Be transformed. When we think of being Christ like we don’t think of it so much as looking like him physically.
The man. The holy One who was God in the flesh — the one who superintended the wisdom of proverbs. The one who created Isaac and Esau. The one who created your body.
We talk about being good stewards of the earth, and all Father has given to us. What about our bodies? I’m sitting here writing this, and I hear my inspired conscience ask it again, but directed to, and for, me. “What about our bodies?”
For those that God foreknew he also predestined to be conformed to the image of his son, that He might be the Firstborn among many brethren (Romans 8:29). The word for firstborn is the word we get prototype from. — that He might be the prototype among many brothers. The prototype — in everything. Including the physical attributes he might’ve possessed as a result of his spiritual life. [As a result] is the key here.
We’ve all heard the way we handle money is the test for what our relationship to Christ is.
What about your relationship to food?
Where there are many cryptic verses that say much about money and the handling of it, there are more verses that state — quite directly — how God feels about gluttony.
The rich man who gives his ten percent to the church yet is returning to the potluck table for his second helping, has no leg up on the person who knows that ten percent will be the meals they’ll have to skip — because they have to, not because they want to.
We hugged and kissed. Said goodbye.
There was the before, when I saw them last.
Then, the two weeks in the between. No one I knew saw me during that time, it could have interfered.
I was transforming.
I lost between fifteen and twelve pounds in two weeks. The noticeable pounds. The ones you lose after the first big loss.
Then, the after. When my wife saw me, she was in the kitchen window. We had stairs down to our front door — I skipped down them.
She said she has not seen me move like that in twenty years. A metamorphosis.
I coaxed my host — my body — into doing what I wanted it too. It took me years to understand it. And this is how I did it.
The Grecian body sculptors, who’d learned their art through geometry, and dissection, knew many things. Things that we are just beginning to understand.
The animal wants to live. It wants to be lean. To run, and leap like a gazelle. It wants to climb. Then, jump from great heights. It wants to have sex. It wants to reproduce. All in all, at the head of its greatest desire, is to survive. The body has an arsenal of hormones to release to do just that, survive.
It isn’t as though there is some hidden fountain of youth across a great sea of struggle and disappointment. The fountain of youth is inside of your host. Your body. Your animal.
Learn the art of husbandry.
Learn how to look at your body for what it is: a host.
Then learn to separate yourself from it.
Before I lose you, let me explain what I mean.
Ancient man saw his body as something separate from his mind. That he was — like Prometheus — bound to the earth through the animal — the body. He was not at war with it as we are today, he worked with it.
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