From Standard To Obedience
In the preceding articles the ground has been cleared. It has been shown that no health claim can stand alone; every doctrine of the body rests upon some rule of judgment, some view of God, of man, and of the order in which life is upheld. The Scriptures have been received as the one infallible standard in these matters, and the modern stories which make disease chiefly a matter of invading agents have been weighed and found wanting when tried by that light.
That work, however, does not exhaust the health question. To expose false standards and to confess the true is only the beginning of obedience, not the end. It is possible to acknowledge that God has written laws into nature and into the very constitution of the body, to assent that “the life of the flesh is in the blood” and that simple means are appointed by Heaven, and yet to leave the conduct of appetite, labour, rest, and daily habit largely to inclination or fashion (Lev. 17:11). In such a case, the standard is honoured on paper while the body itself remains under another government.
The issue now before us is therefore more particular. The question is not only, By what rule are teachings on health to be judged? nor even, How are we to understand sickness and its causes? It is this: What does it mean to belong to Christ in the ordering of the body, and how do the laws of health, once received as light, bind the disciple in the concrete choices of common life? “Present your bodies a living sacrifice, holy, acceptable unto God,” and “glorify God in your body, and in your spirit, which are God’s,” are not general sentiments; they press directly upon these matters. (Rom. 12:1; 1 Cor. 6:19, 20.)
In what follows, the laws of health will be considered from this standpoint. They will not be treated as counsel for a few who happen to be interested in “wellness,” but as provisions and duties given by God for the government of body and life under His Son’s headship. So viewed, they fall within the same path as every other part of the Christian walk: repentance and faith, the putting off of “the old man with his deeds,” the putting on of “the new man,” and the steady bringing of thoughts and habits “into captivity to the obedience of Christ.” (Col. 3:9, 10; 2 Cor. 10:5.) Whatever else may be said of them, they cannot, in this frame, be left among the optional matters which men take up or lay aside at pleasure.
Christ’s Claim and the Laws Written into the Body
Scripture does not speak of the body as an accessory to the gospel. Man is “formed… of the dust of the ground,” receives life from “the breath of life,” and is called to live before God as a whole creature, not as a soul lodged in disposable flesh. (Gen. 2:7.) The same Lord who “took part of the same” flesh and blood, who “bare our griefs, and carried our sorrows,” and who rose in a glorified body has redeemed His people, not in part but in their whole person, for the service of God. (Isa. 53:4; Heb. 2:14–17.) In this light the body cannot be treated as neutral material, to be managed according to taste, fashion, or convenience. It stands within the reach of Christ’s purchase and claim: “ye are bought with a price.” (1 Cor. 6:20.)
For this cause the apostles speak in unambiguous terms. Those who are in Christ are told, “Ye are not your own… ye are bought with a price,” and are therefore charged to “glorify God in your body, and in your spirit, which are God’s.” (1 Cor. 6:19, 20.) The members of the body are not to be yielded “as instruments of unrighteousness unto sin,” but “as instruments of righteousness unto God;” and believers are exhorted to present their bodies “a living sacrifice, holy, acceptable unto God,” which is their “reasonable service.” (Rom. 6:13, 12:1.) Questions of appetite, of work and rest, of what is done with the nerves and senses, thus do not fall into a lower realm where each may do as seems best in his own eyes. They belong directly to “the obedience of faith.” (Rom. 1:5.)
At the same time, the Word sets before us that God has written laws into both nature and our own frame. It speaks of “times and seasons,” of “day and night,” of labour and cessation from labour. (Gen. 1:14, 2:2, 3.) It declares that “the life of the flesh is in the blood,” and that “the life of all flesh is the blood thereof,” and so binds the condition of the body to the state of that living stream. (Lev. 17:11, 14.) Under God’s providence, that state is shaped by what is habitually eaten and drunk, the air that is breathed, the light that is received, the movement that is taken, the rest that is allowed, and the government of thought and passion. These are not scattered hints only; they form a consistent witness that life is upheld under law, and that to cross those laws is not without consequence.
In harmony with this, the simple means so often named—pure air, sunlight, a plain and nourishing diet, pure water, cleanliness, orderly movement and labour, suitable rest, and quiet trust in divine power—are to be regarded as part of that order, not as inventions of a passing “health culture.” The Sabbath command itself weaves labour and rest into the weekly frame of life (Exo. 20:8–11), and the concern for cleanness in Israel’s camp shows that God “walketh in the midst” of His people and is not indifferent to their conditions. (Deut. 23:12–14.) These provisions are the ordinary channels by which the powers of life are preserved and restored in a world marred by sin. When further light is given, gathering these threads and pressing them upon the conscience, it does not create a new standard; it applies the same divine order more plainly to the details of daily living. To slight such provisions knowingly is therefore not a trivial matter. It is to treat lightly the care of a body which God has fashioned, Christ has claimed, and the Spirit would make a temple. (1 Cor. 3:16, 17.)
Where Discipleship is Tested
When once it is granted that Christ has claim upon the body, the question can no longer remain in general terms. His lordship is tried at particular points. It is not in the abstract that men resist the laws of health, but at the table, in their hours of labour and rest, in the ordering of the home, and in their regard—or disregard—for the simple means God has set within reach. At these homely places, the standard owned in word is either honoured in deed or quietly set aside.
Among the bodily powers, appetite holds a peculiar place. From the first transgression, where man chose forbidden food against the word of God, through Esau’s sale of his birthright for a single meal, to Israel’s lusting in the wilderness and loathing the manna that Heaven supplied, Scripture again and again binds great spiritual turnings to the governance—or misrule—of appetite. (Gen. 3:6, 25:29–34; Num. 11:4–6, 31–34; Psa. 78:17–31; Heb. 12:16.) Where appetite is indulged against known light, spiritual discernment is dimmed and self-command is weakened; obedience becomes difficult, not because God has changed, but because the powers of the soul are enfeebled by a lower rule. It is often here, at the plate and the cup, that a man’s professed standard is most plainly tried, for if craving is suffered to overrule conscience, it is craving that in practice holds lordship.
The same is true of work and rest. Our age tempts men in opposite directions: some into softness and habitual idleness, others into a continual strain of overwork, late hours, artificial light, and unrelieved pressure. Both are departures from the order of their Maker. The Scripture that dignifies labour—setting man in the garden “to dress it and to keep it,” and rebuking sloth—also sanctifies rest, appointing night for cessation and the Sabbath as a recurring halt in man’s pursuits. (Gen. 2:2, 3.) In that pattern, work and rest are not rivals but companions. When the life is ordered so that ceaseless exertion, or else chronic indolence, becomes the rule, the body and nerves bear false witness about the God who made us, as though He had called us either to endless toil under our own hand, or to a life without discipline. To receive the rhythms He has appointed, and to lay down one’s own will at seasonable times, is therefore part of walking by faith.
Cleanliness and order likewise test discipleship at close quarters. The ceremonial arrangements of Israel, with their repeated calls to wash, to separate from uncleanness, and to keep the camp with decency, were not given because God delights in burdensome detail, but because He is not indifferent to the conditions in which His people dwell. (Lev. 15:31; Deut. 23:12–14.) Filth, stale air, confusion, and neglected surroundings weigh upon body and mind; they foster discouragement and make duty harder. Simple acts—airing a room, bringing light into a dwelling, keeping the person and clothing clean, putting a house in modest order—are not the whole of obedience, but they often mark the first steps by which repentance begins to touch outward life. In them the disciple confesses that love to God and neighbour extends to the visible environment in which both must live.
To these things must be added the use of the plainest means of health. Men are prone to seek remote and elaborate remedies, while leaving unused the gifts God has spread before them. Yet fresh air, sunlight, pure water, suitable movement, and intervals of quiet are among the most common of His mercies. To open the dwelling to air and light, to value outdoor labour and walking, to employ water freely for cleanliness and relief, and to make room for stillness in a noisy life are not quaint preferences, but acts of submission to an order larger than our own devising. They acknowledge, in practice, that life is sustained through the laws and means God has appointed, and not chiefly by the contrivances of human art. In neglecting these, while professing to seek better health, many show that they are more ready to trust rare devices than to humbly use what the Lord has already provided.
When Reform Loses The Standard
Wherever the laws of health are taken seriously, there is danger that the standard first confessed will be subtly displaced. On the one side, reform is thrown aside as bondage, extremism, or needless scruple; on the other, it is taken up in a spirit that makes it a fresh rule of righteousness. In both cases, the same mistake is made: the Word of God and the simple order He has appointed cease to be the measure, and some other thing—whether indulgence or severity—takes that place.
One man uses Christian liberty as a cloak for self-pleasing. Because salvation is not earned by diet or routine, he persuades himself that no claim of conscience can bind him closely in such matters. Plain light concerning appetite, stimulants, late hours, or neglect of rest is put aside as “fanatical,” not because the grounds are unsound, but because the habits in question are cherished. In this way, the authority of God’s revealed order is set beneath the shifting tastes of the individual. Whatever his profession, he is no longer judging his ways by the standard owned at the outset, but by what allows him to remain undisturbed.
Another, seeing the mischief wrought by such carelessness, seizes upon reform in a contrary temper. Health counsels, which were meant to restore the powers of body and mind for God’s service, are turned into a measuring-rod by which all are weighed. Details of practice, often joined to one person’s temperament, history, or circumstances, are pressed upon others as though they were the full measure of holiness. Scruples multiply where Scripture and sound light do not require them; patience with the weak gives way to irritation; men are judged more by what is on their plate than by the fruits of the Spirit in their life. Here again, the standard is displaced, for instead of bringing all back “to the law and to the testimony,” present practice and private conviction become the rule by which others are tried.
Household and church life provide frequent occasions for both errors to appear. Tables, schedules, and customs often have more power over the body than any written theory. A disciple who seeks to order his own life under Christ’s headship may find his efforts resisted, mocked, or quietly undermined in the family circle or in the congregation. There is real temptation either to abandon reform for the sake of peace, or to assert it with such sharpness that peace is broken in another way. Yet love does not require the surrender of principle, nor does zeal excuse unkindness. To hold to the light God has given, while bearing with the infirmities and slowness of others, is itself part of obedience. Quiet consistency, small changes carried out without display, and a readiness to suffer misunderstanding rather than to force compliance, all belong to reform that remains under Christ’s rule. In this way, the ordering of the body under Christ’s headship becomes part of the church’s visible testimony, not a private hobby of a few.
A further danger is more subtle: making health itself the ruling good. In reaction against disease and confusion, the thoughts may circle continually around food, symptoms, routines, and safeguards, until the care of the body fills the field of vision. Time in the Word, duties to others, and quiet gratitude to God are pushed toward the margins by a constant inward monitoring. In such a state, health reform, though it began from a desire to honour God, has slipped into another form of self-occupation. The body, which was to be kept as a temple and instrument, is treated as though its preservation were the highest end. By the standard already confessed, this cannot be allowed. The body matters because it belongs to God and is to be used in His service; care for it is good, but to make that care a master is to fall into a refined idolatry.
Walking Under Christ’s Headship
In the end, these questions return to a simple issue of allegiance. The One who formed the body of the dust of the ground, who has borne our griefs and carried our sorrows, and who has bought us with His own blood, has not left the ordering of that body outside His care. To confess His name while reserving appetite, schedule, labour, rest, and the use of simple means for our own rule is a divided service. The standard already owned in word presses here: if the body is temple, member, and living sacrifice, it must be brought, with the rest of life, under His headship. To bring the body thus under His rule is one part of keeping the commandments of God and the faith of Jesus, not in word only, but in the habits of daily life.
This does not mean that obedience in health is a new way of saving oneself. The path set before the disciple is not one of self-salvation by careful living, but of grateful conformity to light already given. Christ remains the merciful Physician as well as Lord—searching, reproving, strengthening, and restoring His purchased possession. Under His hand the work of reform need not be driven by fear or vanity. It may go forward step by step, beginning where a man stands, putting away what conscience knows to be wrong, embracing those simple provisions of God which have long been neglected, and ordering the day, the table, the home, and the hours of rest in a way that agrees with His Word. Where weakness, confusion, or long habit make obedience difficult, the call is not to despair, but to walk in the light one has, trusting that He who knows our frame is able to teach His people how to glorify Him in their bodies and in their spirits, which are His. The faith and obedience here described rest upon that Everlasting Gospel which is set forth more fully in The Everlasting Gospel.