I want to take this passage in Isaiah 62:1-10 as a personal promise for me. A promise that God will be pleased with me and call me happily married. A promise of restoration, of promises fulfilled.
Back up a minute, a God who delights in me like a groom delights in his bride? Could I be healed and find a place where I could accept such love?
Even after everything I’ve been through, I struggled to receive and accept love. I struggle to think that my groom would delight in my body. This ol’ thing? This broken thing? This PCOS-ridden thing?
Whose job is it to place value on my body? Mine? My husband’s? God’s?
They’re worthless if I don’t / can’t accept that value. It’s like a currency crash. Twenty dollars becomes nothing but a grubby piece of plastic if I can’t exchange it for what I need.
So what do I need?
I need to cast off a perfectionistic spirit. A half-assed job is better than no job at all. Is that any way to look at myself though? When I was pregnant and suffering with insulin-dependent gestational diabetes and having pre-enclampsia scares fairly regularly, I remember sitting at Church just weeping with the burden of it all. God in his faithfulness sent his Holy Spirit to whisper to me as I sat there listening to other people worship. He said “Your son is perfect and whole.” Finally, I could breathe.
But if God says my son is perfect and whole, what does that make me? Unless I’m having the second immaculate conception, it logically follows that it takes a perfect and whole woman to bear a perfect and whole son.
God says I’m perfect and whole. I need to accept and appreciate my body for what it is. I need also to accept and appreciate the body of Christ for what it is. We are perfect and whole in God’s eyes and we are living out the manifestation of that in our lives and our walk.
Love. Understand. Repent. Forgive.