A Wife Loved Like The Church

I’m writing this post at o’too early in the morning because I’m struggling to sleep. It’s been a long week, I’m emotionally and physically exhausted, and yet wide awake. Something is amiss.

In the quiet of the night, I am pouring my heart out to God and coming to the realization about something:

My body does not dictate who I am.

Friends, in some true honesty, I’m going to lay my heart out to you. I’ve realized that perhaps part of my funky state this week has been due to a spike in weight. Sure, sure, I’m pregnant and all that jazz and I know that weight gain, a change in my body, will happen. It’s done it twice, it’ll do it again. But as I round the second half of this pregnancy, I step on that scale and see those numbers, that in my mind are too much to bear, I crumble. Literally, I crumble. It’s a weight, not just physical, but mental and emotional. It’s months of half marathon training wasted. It’s months of calorie counting, sweets-denying, hard working-out wasted. Logically {oh to be logical}, it’s okay. In fact, it’s where I started with both girls and I’m halfway through this time. But, that logical state of mind is too far to be found. In it’s place is that petrified, self-conscious girl who can’t quite make the in crowd because her body just isn’t the same as the pretty girls. And I am left feeling lonely and out of place.

But my body does not dictate who I am.

I am a child of God. I am loved by a King who died for me. I am chosen, hand-picked, created by an amazing Lord who designed me in such a way that brings Him the most glory. I have been given a chance to bring three beautiful creations to life. To grow them, to care for them, to nurture them, to love them, to show them just a glimpse of our awesome Savior.

So, no, my body does not dictate who I am.

He does. His truth. His love. His faithfulness. His goodness. His mercy. His grace. Just Him.

These are my dictators. These are the attributes that dictate, determine, who I am. Not a physical appearance. Not the acceptance of others. Just Him. Just His physical wounds for me. Just His acceptance of me. He is my dictator.

God dictates who I am.

And allowing myself to understand this truth, not just logically, but emotionally in my tired little heart, brings me joy and a rest that is much needed.

What’s your Friday Joy? How’s God revealing Himself to you?