Experiment 6: Receive nourishment.
Photo Credit: Momma Theologians
Note: This piece was originally published at Momma Theologians here.
Over plates of saffron rice, garlic naan, and creamy paneer, my husband Dagi and I are relishing a rare date night by ourselves. He is in the exhausting, complicated process of starting a small business, and I ask him the question we often pose to each other as we pursue the unique visions God has given us: “How can I support you?”
He answers almost without hesitation: “Get enough rest.”
I smile. His answer is not a surprise. Dagi often encourages me to take time away from our son to take a nap, journal, or read a mystery novel (my guilty pleasure). Finishing up a bite of naan, I tell him how ironic it is that caring for myself is actually a way of caring for my family. It is a paradox I’m learning: redemptive self-care is rooted in a self-sacrificial love of others.
For years I have struggled with the concept of self-care. Reading the Bible, I hear a call that seems completely contrary to our culture’s obsession with self: a call to self-sacrifice. Ruth leaves her hometown to remain faithful to her mournful mother-in-law (Ruth 1:16); Esther risks her life to save the Jews (Esther 4:15); Paul chooses shipwreck and imprisonment and stonings for the sake of the gospel (2 Corinthians 11:25). And of course Jesus willingly gives up all of the comforts and pleasures of heaven–that were His by right (Philippians 2:7)–to be birthed from a poor teenager in a smelly, small-town stable (Luke 2:7). To submit Himself to insomnia and hunger and gravity. To die bleeding and naked on a cross.
Like Jesus, we are meant to be living sacrifices (Romans 12:1). In a letter to Timothy, Paul writes of being poured out (2 Timothy 4:6), like wine from a chalice. What a rich, beautiful calling: to refresh the empty cups of those who thirst, to be within our human bodies a delicious taste of God’s infinite love.
Photo Credit: Julia Zolotova on Unsplash
But I am learning that self-care does have its place in the life of the believer. Unless I am filled, I cannot pour out anything. As a nursing mother, I remember how hungry I felt…all the time. All day I devoured: bowls of blueberry oatmeal, hummus over whole wheat bread, pasta sprinkled in parmesan cheese, and of course, lots of dark chocolate. Without sustaining myself with adequate calories, my body could not produce breast milk. I had to nourish myself in order to nourish my ever-hungry son.
It is not so different now that my son is weaned. I still need to nourish myself in order to have enough energy to chase him down the grocery store aisles and wrestle him into his dinosaur boots. I still need to nourish myself to give the gift of attention when my friend shares her heart over coffee. I need to nourish myself to visit my grandmother with cancer, to layer a lasagna for a new mom, to write an essay, to smile at the barista who serves me a cup of my favorite rooibos tea.
And the nourishment I need is not just physical. Just as my body needs exercise, rest, and sustaining meals, my soul needs the sustenance of intimacy with my Maker. In a ministry fraught with exhausting demands–healing bodies, feeding bellies, preaching the gospel–Jesus modeled the practice of taking time away to be with His Father (Matthew 14:23; Luke 5:16). And oh, how faithful God is to nourish those who seek Him!
When I am holistically refreshed and energized, my family and my community receive the very best I have to offer. When I am nourished with the love of God in the form of the Word and sleep and prayer and chocolate, the love of God can pour through me in the form of kisses and combed curls and clean cups of water.
Photo Credit: Rachel Strong on Unsplash
As I ponder the tension between self-care and others-care, I’m starting to wonder if there really is a difference between the two. Self-care whose purpose is simply for the self is a dead end. But redemptive self-care looks far beyond our narrow desires and dreams. It looks beyond the self, to the needs of a world howling with thirst, and–out of deep, sacrificial love–seeks to be filled up in order to be poured out again.
Redemptive self-care looks beyond the self to others, and, most importantly, to the Ultimate Nourisher. Enjoying a nourishing meal or taking a walk can be done in gratitude for God’s immeasurable, tender love for us. Reading a book for pleasure can become a way of acknowledging God as the source of all delight. Practiced in this way, self-care can be an act of worship.
The morning after our date night, I slipped out of bed at the sound of my son’s cry. Full of good sleep and good food from the evening before, I picked up my son with renewed delight: ready to be poured out again.
This blog is part of the “Experiments in Inefficiency” series, which explores what it means to resist unbiblical cultural and personal pressures to produce in favor of Jesus’ easy yoke.
