The Body by Keren Dibbens-Wyatt

I am a heart, beating to the drum of creation, a percussive pounding in the chest of the church, jumping for joy. A leaping, living thing that softens with every break into deeper and lovelier ravines of gentleness and compassion, leading the dance of love where all believing begins. Will you join my rhythm?

I am an eye, seeing everything in new perspective, reflecting rays, recording the holiness I hold before me on my retina, observing shapes and shadows, shades of light and dark, taking it all in and gazing with eternal perception. Will you let me be your lens?

I am a skeleton, a framework for flesh and tendons to hold to, a jointed, supple moving thing, an interconnection of bones all working together for your good. Built of rock and sharing DNA both with the smallest creatures in the ocean and with towering cliffs. Will you let me give you inner strength?

I am muscle, force and lifting power, biceps and triceps, covering the body with movement and momentum, container of kinetic energy and facilitating every step with my creative choreography and subtle twists and turns. Will you let me move you into new flexibility?

I am an ear, I am given to hearing. I am open to encouragement and to the music of the soul that will calm and beautify. I thrive on birdsong, but also on silence, which allows me to capture the words whispered in the still, small voice, a golden thread caught on the wind. Will you let me listen?

I am a hand, offered in help and given in friendship, shaken in greeting. I serve you in daily tasks, to honour and protect. I wash dishes and clean floors and write sonnets and play games. I paint and crochet and wipe and scrub. I do not mind, I give and receive gladly and obey the smallest movement of synapse. Will you let me serve you and others?

I am a foot, a traveller, a walker. I will take you where you need to go. I will make that first step that somehow is so hard, leaning into the act of forgiveness, beginning the journey of a thousand miles. I will find the footholds placed on mountain paths, and be lifted up by watchful angels. Will you let me carry you?

I am a set of teeth, standing stones in the jaw of time, grinding anxiety down in the night and tearing food for thought into smaller, more digestible pieces. I will look after you if you take care of me, and I will break everything down so that you don’t fall apart. I will chew on the word and meditate between my molars. Will you let me feed you?

I am a brain, an analysing thinker of deep thoughts and weigh-er of wisdom. I can read and create and make art and connection. I slip easily from memory to doctrine, weaving stories and teaching facts, seeking always to understand and clarify, yet glean most from mystery and magic, from prophetic parables. Will you allow me to instruct you as I in turn, learn?

I am a gut and stomach, the place where you get kicked most often, where you really feel and know. I am the one that digests and draws nutrition from all you take in, where decisions are made on what it good for you and what isn’t. I am your discernment, your choices churn here and the way is set before you. My acid rises when peace is far away, and stillness settles when you are on the right path. Will you let me help you decide?

I am those delicate parts, the ones that require modesty and protection. I deal with miracles of conception and birth, and yet also process and emit the waste and dirt. The sublime and the ridiculous are my chores and my privilege. I am frail yet strong. I hold the paradoxical nature of life within me. Will you honour and cover me?

I am a voice, which burns like coals in the prophet’s throat, which must be heard and hearkened too. I am the expression of love and wisdom’s words speak through no-one but me. I am the song brooding over you and the fragrant rising of prayers to heaven. I give sound to poetry and myth, to sermons and praise. Will you let me call?

I am God’s breath, sighed into all creation, exhaled like a gentle life-giving wave. I make all this dust and these dry bones rise up, I can hold your frame together, dear Body of my dear Son, if you will only let me. Allow each one to play the part for which it was made, exhort one another’s gifts and purpose, deign to one another’s destinies, and watch the world heal. Will you let me breathe?

© Keren Dibbens-Wyatt 2015

Keren Dibbens-Wyatt is a writer with a passion for prayer, church unity and the edification of women. She finds her joy in God’s colours, creatures and stories and attempts to share it with others through her work.

Links: websites http://www.kerendibbenswyatt.com/ or http://www.stillwatersministries.co.uk/

Or connect with Keren on facebook https://www.facebook.com/KerenDibbensWyatt

You can download Keren’s free ebook “Christian Prayers for the World” on ibooks, Lulu or Kindle. Christian Prayers for the World