I’ve wanted to “be healthy” for years. But what happens when our vision of health is distorted?
When we think of health, plenty of images from the industry come to mind. They may consist of cruciferous vegetables, athletes (ahem models) with toned bodies, and sunshiny smiles.
We tend to define health in narrow terms that have been heavily influenced by marketing and media money-makers. It’s no wonder “being healthy” can feel confusing and even anxiety producing.
When I was in grad school in my early twenties, I struggled with this anxiety around health. One particular day, after much mental back and forth, I decided to let myself have a bagel—a whole wheat bagel with peanut butter. I had my plan and my parameters.
I walked into the university’s dining hall and grabbed a sliced whole wheat bagel. I put it in the toaster. So far, so good. I got my plate and walked over to where the vat of peanut butter should be. There was no peanut butter—only cream cheese.
I froze.
I stood paralyzed in front of the missing peanut butter. Cream cheese was not the plan. Cream cheese was not in my parameters for controlling the situation. My mind was overloaded, yet blank. I couldn’t process. I panicked.
I walked out.
No bagel. No peanut butter. No breakfast. Just me—paralyzed by food again—walking away hungry and in need of healing.
Living with the temptation toward disordered eating and exercise for nearly two decades is the thorn I wish wasn’t in my side. The journey has at times felt dark, discouraging, and enslaving. It has also been filled with grace—God’s freedom, the ability to empathize with others suffering, the love of family bearing my burdens.
Even if you haven’t struggled with disordered eating and exercise in the same ways I have, I am certain you’ve struggled with your health in some way. Perhaps insecurity or weariness keeps you stuck in inactivity. Perhaps your addiction to pleasure and immediate gratification leaves you unfulfilled and more selfish than you’d like to admit. Perhaps letting down your guard and letting God lead is so scary you’d do anything to avoid true rest or intimate prayer. We are all in need of the Divine Physician.
Recall the story of the paralytic in Scripture. Jesus is preaching in a home and it’s packed. People stand shoulder-to-shoulder trying to hear his words. Desperate for their friend, four men tear open the roof of the home and lower him on his mat down in front of Jesus. “When Jesus saw their faith, he said to the paralytic, ‘Child, your sins are forgiven’” (Mark 2:5).
Notice Jesus’ first impulse here is to restore the soul—to bring the part of us that is eternal back into right relationship with God. The first priority is heaven.
The scribes begin to internally question and criticize Jesus. Jesus knew what they were thinking and called them out on it—“Which is easier, to say to the paralytic, ‘Your sins are forgiven,’ or to say, ‘Rise, pick up your mat and walk’? But that you may know that the Son of Man has authority to forgive sins on earth”—he said to the paralytic, ‘I say to you, rise, pick up your mat, and go home’” (Mark 2:9-11). The man stood, picked up his mat, and walked home for everyone to see.
Now we see Jesus restore this man’s physical health. Jesus brings strength where it was lacking. He brings freedom of movement out of the paralysis. He allows this man to begin again.
Jesus doesn’t just restore the man’s health for the man’s individual benefit. He does so to send him back into community—to his home, to work, to worship. We are not beings meant to live in isolation. We are born into and made for community—we are oriented toward the ultimate community of our loving God who is Father, Son, and Holy Spirit.
The people packed in to see Jesus didn’t anticipate seeing this! St. Mark tells us, “They were astounded and glorified God, saying, ‘We have never seen anything like this’” (2:12). God consistently shows up in ways that are more intimate yet more magnificent than we could have imagined.
I invite you to bring the areas of your health and holiness where you feel paralyzed, anxious, or stuck to Jesus. When we do, he accepts them lovingly and treats us tenderly. I know because that’s how he’s walked with and held me. This is his character, his modus operandi, who he is by definition. When we do, others look at what God does in us and exclaim again, “We have never seen anything like this!”