Offer your bodies as a living sacrifice.
—Romans 12.1
Because it is holy,
God’s gift to you,
molded from God’s clay,
and not some bad thing,
root of sin, vessel of shame—
holy, every part of it,
even though you could lose a few
or cut your hair different,
it is what God gave you,
it is all you have.
Because it’s how you sacrifice yourself,
giving it to God and not getting it back,
every moment, every step,
every gesture a prayer.
Because it’s wonderful,
the webbing between your thumb and finger,
the landscape of your palm
and its memories,
the stories around your eyes.
Because it is your wisdom,
the muscle memory of faith,
like the lobsterman whose legs know
the sea and the boat and the weight,
how you know the weight
of the water you take the plants,
the food you’ve given,
the feel of bowing in gratitude or humility,
the rush of singing poorly, joyfully,
head back, eyes closed,
the heat in your chest when you risk
some love or forgiveness.
Because it is how you move in the world,
what and how you eat,
your nearness to others,
your breathing in and out, so faithfully.
Because how else will God know
what it is like
to walk on this earth?