The effects of sin on the body

Our bodies, made in the image of God, reflect such beauty, wonder, and awe. Think about it for a moment;  have you ever reflected on the many different parts and structures within the body, that work in such harmony and integration with one another?

Consider the complexities of the brain, the steady rhythms of the heart, and the intriguing  mind-body connection and all that it entails.

 When we actually stop to notice, it’s interesting to note the persistence of the breath, those funny rumblings in our stomachs,  and the ways our toes and shoulders randomly twitch when we’re beginning to relax. It’s fascinating how so much of the body operates under an unconscious framework, without us needing to adjust or control its functions or pace. 

The body holds an intelligence so deep, reflecting the brilliance and wonder of its Creator. It knows how to sustain itself through the divinely inspired and inherent mechanisms and structures placed within. When the body operates in the way it was designed, all we have to do is listen and respond accordingly to its cravings and cues. 

Our inherited brokenness

Unfortunately, however, we all have a problem on our hands, one that is tied to an inherent bodily brokenness originating from the sin of Adam and Eve.  We can’t escape it, no matter how many detoxes, juice cleanses, sauna sessions, or mindfulness tricks we try or adapt. 

Oftentimes, this brokenness manifests itself in the day-to-day grind, as we recognize (or don’t) the limitations of our bodies and their cries for rest. In our inflated ideas of invincibility, we may push and push, only to find ourselves burnt out and unable to take on the next day, or even the next step. 

Disease, Trauma, and Pain

Some of us experience the harsh realities of our brokenness through autoimmune disease or other forms of chronic illness. Others come face to face with it when unexpected forms of cancer strike. Some experience repressed emotional suffering from past trauma, abuse, or neglect, which may continue to reveal itself through physical aches and pain. And then, there’s the tragic accidents and crashes that send our bodies into debilitating places, and may break us in ways we just can’t handle or sustain. 

Our bodies’ natural decline

Even if we are fortunate enough to live through years of this uncertain world, we eventually come face to face with the bodily decline that occurs with old age, or in response to the not-so-great decisions we made in our younger days. 

At some point, we will experience the degree to which our brilliantly constructed bodies are affected and tainted by sin. And we will face to face the fact that our bodies, in their finite nature, will eventually return to the dust to which they were formed (Genesis 3:19). 

Trying to fix the effects of sin on the body

With this in mind, have you noticed how our culture copes with pain, suffering, or general bodily decline? Generally speaking, there’s a tendency in us to try and fix, prevent, or slow these unwanted processes and struggles. Forms of physical and emotional suffering make us very uncomfortable — and rightly so. No one wants to live in places of tension or pain any longer than needed. 

And even when we’re on the other side, listening to someone else’s struggle or hardship, there’s something in us that wants to “fix.” Maybe we’re truly trying to help, or maybe we’re subconsciously trying to shield our own selves from getting “infected” by others’ pain. 

We’re Surrounded by “Treatments”

Here, in the United States, we’re surrounded by some of the best medical care around. We have access to doctors, specialists, and treatments that are ‘promised’ to heal. And when the treatments don’t work (or even when they do) we go looking for new providers to help us continue to “fix” whatever is still wrong with us, or left to treat. 

We are encouraged to try new medications, supplements, diets, or morning yoga routines to alleviate or tend to our emotional or physical pain. We ask, pursue, research, and try to “perfect” our efforts for health and wholeness. Yet traces of physical brokenness still linger, whether we choose to admit it or not, while getting worse and worse with time and age. 

Now, don’t get me wrong; it is good and right to advocate for our health and pursue answers and treatments where they may be found. It is, in fact, one of our responsibilities here on this earth to honor our bodies and minds, and treat them in the very best way we can.  

Yet, I suspect and wonder of a tendency to get so caught up in fixing all the things that go wrong with our bodies, that we can fail to actually tune in and listen to what they might be trying to say, or communicate through any pain. 

In other words, how often do we acknowledge when our bodies feel tired, stressed, and worn out, without trying to caffeinate the fatigue away? How often do we tune in to our headaches before taking Tylenol or Ibuprofen to numb away the pain?  Can we recognize any underlying feelings or fears that our bodies continue to hold, without trying to distance or distract?  If you haven’t already noticed, the busyness and fast-paced nature of our era does a fantastic job at keeping us disengaged from certain realities of this world, and from certain messages coming from within. 

And so what are these realities? That we, in our bodies, will never be completely nurtured, satisfied, or sustained by the remedies or “cures” of this world. The effects of sin on the body are vast and lifelong, to some degree at least. There will always be some degree of pain or some component of suffering we will have to manage and work though. Life is hard, and our bodies can struggle to manage. No body or brain is immune to the suffering of this world.

This echoes the words Paul in Romans 8, where he states that “the whole of creation has been groaning as in the pains of childbirth” and that “we ourselves, who have the first fruits of the Spirit, groan inwardly as we wait eagerly for our adoption to sonship, the redemption of our bodies” (verse 22-23). 

Our physical bodies, with the voice of all creation, echo these groaning through our suffering, struggles, and pain. We share in the desires of this earth for perfect wholeness, order, and peace as we long for bodies to be free from disease, disorders, and decay. 

As David writes in Psalm 63, we thirst for God while our whole being longs for Him, “in a dry and parched land where there is no water” (verse 1). Our bodies won’t be fully satisfied with anything this world has to offer or treat; they will always be longing for a deeper, supernatural relief. 

Responding to Our Bodies with Empathy and Compassion 

And so what then is our response to our restless bodies as they cry out through worldly sickness or disease? How do we approach them in lingering pain and suffering, without numbing their symptoms or neglecting their needs? 

Perhaps a starting place might be to shed unrealistic standards, pursuits of perfection, or expectations of a suffering-free life. When we notice in nature evidence of the Fall, such as a withering flower, or a broken branch, we acknowledge this brokenness, while also recognizing nature’s inherent resilience. What do I mean by this “resilience”? That every Spring, no matter how harsh the previous Winter, life continues to burst forth, one budding tree or blade of grass at a time. 

Lessons in nature

Nature has a way of groaning through the changing seasons, whether it’s scorched by the hot summer sun, or frozen in the harsh blizzards of winter. Yet it embodies a pattern of healing and restoration each Spring, reflecting glimpses of the Divine restoration that is to come.  

Rather than putting our bodies under a microscope, picking and prodding them for answers, or “perfecting” them with the latest treatments or routines, may we learn to step back, listen to, and honor our bodies from places of curiosity, grace, and compassion. May we learn to hold them as they echo the brokenness of all creation, looking and longing for the new life that our Lord has promised. 

Today, if your body is hurting, worn out, or stressed, I  encourage you to tune in and listen to these experiences and sensations as you would a frightened child without a home. After all, until we reach our heavenly home, we will always be hurting, seeking, and searching for these deeper places of peace and rest.

May we rest in knowing that our glorified, perfected bodies are coming, not necessarily in this life, but most certainly in the next.