to the person wearing that shirt

preface: this is a weird post. but bear with me, friends, as i try to process some of my thoughts.

i went to a christian music festival a week ago and was particularly troubled by a shirt i saw a kid wearing. it had three words on it, so you wouldn't think much of it. but i think the implications of its message are profound -- and harmful, which is why i've been thinking about it for the past week.

"hate my flesh"

that's what the t-shirt said.

for starters, i think it's always a good idea to avoid using the word "hate," but i won't lie, i have used it many times when probably another word would have been better.

i understand the message the shirt was trying to communicate: the soul is more important than the flesh, don't let worldy things block the importance of keeping true to spiritual matters. and i do believe in the importance of life after death, i do believe that what happens on earth is part of a much bigger and greater reality. i believe in God's eternal kingdom and hope (thank you NT Wright).

but, still. i'm sad and angry about that shirt. and here's why.

i believe in a God who created flesh - and who delights in it. who loves that i have blue eyes, and you have brown, that i have small hands and you have long fingers, that i can run six miles and feel the exhiliration of letting my muscles move and carry me across the cement. i believe in a God who loves looking at faces with freckles and dimples; who lights up when a baby takes their first steps, and who is ever-present in the nursing home when it takes an elderly woman 10 minutes to get out of bed (but we celebrate those ten minutes, don't we? because she still has muscles that move and allow her to live with us -- and that is a blessing). i believe in a God who loves through touch -- i feel that love as my dad kisses my cheek when he walks in the door or when the little girl i babysit lets me cuddle with her for 5 seconds (i cherish those 5 seconds!). i hope in a God who is in the kitchen as we prepare food to eat, who laughs as spaghetti sauce drips down our mouth, who loves the sound of laughter and cares for our physical needs -- whether it's a stubbed toe or a scary disease.

and i think that if we "hate the flesh" we misunderstand God. i don't want to pretend to understand God, because frankly i'm quite confused about who he is, but i feel pretty confident of this: he created a body for me to dwell in -- and part of living is learning how to live here (in this 22 year old body), live  now, and live purposefully and hopefully. and i don't think i can do that if i hate the flesh; i don't think i can pursue justice and mercy if the flesh doesn't matter, if it's something to be hated.

i read a beautiful piece by lauren dubinsky a few weeks ago about learning to love her body. i confess that i feel this constant nagging in the back of my mind about what i look like and who i am trying to impress and "am i pretty enough? will more make-up help? do i need to die my hair??" stupid, i know. but it's a very true reality. read her words. they challenged me to see the physical as a gift, and to treat it as such. i needed that reminder -- and i think that person in the shirt could use that reminder too.

i think hating the flesh can lead to a misconstrued perception of self -- which can lead to hatred. and hating ourselves is just about the worst place to start. on the other hand, idolizing our flesh can also lead to a misconstrued percetion of self -- which is also quite harmful.

so, hate? is that where we start? idolatry? is that better? 

i want to be a person who delights in God's gifts -- and see that these gifts include feet that can walk on the beach and noses that can smell fresh-baked chocolate chip cookies; ears that can hear good music and eyes that can see sunsets and sunrises.

"taste and see that the Lord is good. blessed is the one who takes refuge in him" (psalm 34:8)
 i don't think i can do that if i'm hating the flesh.