Can we talk about
nudity today, friends? A tough subject,
perhaps. A bit taboo, maybe, or at least
it used to be.
Naked was once a
term found in the same sentence with words like ‘forbidden,’ ‘prohibited,’
‘unacceptable.’ There’s a reason underwear
used to be called ‘unmentionables.’ Since
Adam and Eve listened to that sneaky snake and ate that darn apple and realized
they were running around in a garden without any clothes on, people have tried
very hard to keep important areas of their bodies covered, concealed, and contained.
So WHAT IS UP with
nudity these days, people? Seriously,
how did the naked human body become something so easily shared? So readily flaunted it’s as if modesty never existed
. . . as though nothing is sacred, special, saved?
What happened to
privacy? What happened to
restraint? How in the world did we come
to equate nakedness with confidence?
Confidence?
Sharing pictures
of your naked body with the entire world doesn’t scream confident to me. It screams desperate. It screams impulsive. It screams . . . lost. And not Have
you lost your panties? Not Have
you lost your mind? But lost, as in
. . . Have you lost your sense of
self-worth? Have you misunderstood what
it means to have respect, both for yourself and from others? Have you forgotten you are so deeply loved by
God that you don’t need anyone else to adore you?
Those people? Those people gawking at your nakedness on
their computers and their phones and in magazines? They might be gazing at you and staring at
you and ogling you. They might be
wishing they could talk to you or touch you or even be you. But they don’t respect you. They don’t love you or adore you. They don’t even know you. And yet, you’re sharing yourself with them so
casually, so carelessly . . . without any real consideration for what it means
to be naked in front of another human being.
There are
headlines about cleavage and curves. There
are articles about nip slips and side boobs.
Stories of nude photographs leaked to millions come out so frequently
that teenage girls all over the country now think it’s okay to send sext
messages to every boy they know on a regular basis. Y’all, there are songs that refer to our intimate
body parts as junk.
Junk?
These parts . . .
they are given to another in our most personal and vulnerable moments. They connect us to those we have committed to
love though everything. They express our
desire and they fit together perfectly to create generations. They bring forth life and provide for the
life they usher in. These parts? They are special. They have purpose. They are NOT junk.
It scares me. All of it.
I have a daughter and a son and a husband and it scares me to death. This frivolous overexposure. This tolerance. This condoning of what was once so off-limits
and this relegating of our bodies, which have true value, to junk that has
none. It scares me.
I know it’s not
the biggest of our problems. There is poverty and hunger and there are millions
of orphans. There are women and children
who are sold into slavery Every. Single. Day.
This nudity epidemic isn’t the only issue in the world, nor the most
important, and I’m certain many might not think it an issue at all. But shouldn’t we at least consider the
possibility that we are perpetuating dangerous attitudes with our failure to
address the way nudity and sex have become absolute obsessions in our culture? Might we be fueling a fire that suggests
women are merely objects of pleasure, and not worthy human beings with an
abundance of gifts to offer?
In the midst of a
nation spellbound by the blatant undressing of so many, how do I
teach my son that a woman is to be cherished and treasured for who she is, not
what she looks like? How do I teach my
daughter that she doesn’t have to bare her body, because the right people will care
about her soul? How do I remember that I
don’t have to live up to a specific standard . . .
that I was created in the image of God, and that’s what makes me beautiful?
The world says
other things. The world fixates on
physical appearances and applauds immorality, and there is no doubt about it, in this
world, sex sells.
I live in this world, but I can’t be consumed by the
deterioration of society’s values. I must
hold on to the truth. I must teach it to
my children every day, as the world bombards them from every direction, begging
them to buy into the myth that attention brings happiness.
Because the truth . . . the
truth of Him . . . Him. He is the only real source of contentment in
this world . . . in this life. The truth
says my body is a temple of the Holy Spirit within me (1 Corinthians
6:19). The truths says I can glorify God
with my body (1 Corinthians 6:20). The
truth says I do not have to be conformed by this world (Romans 12:2). The truth says God does not look
at outward appearances, but at what matters most (1 Samuel 16:7).
The truth is Jesus. And grace.
And the kind of love that transcends and transforms, from the inside.
The truth is what God sees when he looks at us, and that’s what we should
be sharing with others.
Not our flesh .
. .
Our hearts.
