Because Love Needs a Body

There is mystery and beauty in the words of Jesus we remember today: this is my body, broken for you.

My body,
for you.
Me for you.
Given
to give you life.

Jesus’ coming here, his living here, and his dying here were distinctly physical. He was born in a beautiful mess of fluid and blood and tears like you were. He lived in a fragile, resilient body like we do.  And with his body he loved. He touched our skin, he walked two days to be with friends, and he carried children in his arms. He felt power leave, he washed our feet, he received our food, and with his hands he fed the hungry. And in the end Jesus gave himself in death. His body was crushed by evil to take away the power of evil. He carried the cross on his body and the cross carried him to his death.

When God came to be with us he came in a body — not to give value to our bodies, but because they already have value. As he gave his body to bring us life so we give ours to give life to others. At some point love needs a body to be love. Most of our loving, most of our giving is tangible and physical. The elementary teacher going to bed early so she has energy for her next day of teaching is giving her body. The mother vomiting again in week 16 of her pregnancy is giving her body. The dad sitting to be eye level with his son is giving his body. The nurse working his twelfth hour, on his feet reassuring a patient one more time, is giving his body. The pastor waking early to pray for his people is giving his body. The woman bringing kind words and a warm meal to a weary friend is giving her body.

What you do with your hands and feet and arms and head matters. How you touch and how you speak matter. With your flesh and bones and skin you create, you love, you bless, and you share the life of God. This week as we remember Jesus giving himself for us, may we give ourselves to him by loving others. And may we know that with our hands we can carry eternal life.