top of page
  • Writer's pictureLaura Kae

Exaltation: postures of praise

I will not boast in anything – no gifts, no power, no wisdom; but I will boast in Jesus Christ, His death and resurrection.

This morning I think I could just praise Him instead of write about praising Him, but it might not be all that interesting to you if I simply typed out some lyrics to several praise songs.

One of the things I absolutely love about my life right now is I am learning to praise Him in the storm in a different way than I ever have before. I used to know it wouldn’t be called a “sacrifice of praise” if it wasn’t a sacrifice. I still believe that. There is something undeniably powerful about praising Him with tears of pain running down our cheeks. We don’t need to deny the pain, but we can still confess He is good even when we are in those places in life where it feels like we are between a rock and a hard place, nobody seems to care and even God doesn’t seem willing to deliver us.

I used to know that, but until recently I never knew what it was like to experience such a mix of joy and pain that while I wept from pain, my heart overflowed with joy at the goodness of God. The tears on my cheeks could come from both as I lifted my hands on high in a surrender I have never before experienced.

Recently my pastor taught a message on body language during worship. What does our body language say about what we actually believe about God? I have been noticing my posture a lot more, and it has actually changed it.

For example, I sit up straighter now. I think pretty much all the time. It seems like a conscious subconscious decision. I never made a decision to start doing it, it just happened. I can be confident in my God. I can carry myself like I am.

I noticed another bizarre thing. If you see me sprinting down the street, assume it is more likely I am praising Him than late. Sometimes it is both, but usually sprinting is some form of worship. I know it is weird. I think so, too. Now that I have noticed it, I feel self-conscious every time I do it. Sometimes while I am running, I start to analyze why I am running. I know. I know. I think too much.

I listened to a Louis Giglio message a few weeks ago, and he challenged his community of believers to memorize an entire chapter of the Bible in 21 days. They could choose the chapter. Just commit to it, memorize it, then meditate on it. I felt like I should rise to the occasion as well. I like to do hard things, and this seemed hard. I have never memorized Scripture as a spiritual discipline before. It reminded me of being a kid in catechism. The memorization back then didn’t change my life. Why do it now?

So I started with Psalm 16, which I highly recommend. If you are wondering how we got on the topic of memorization, I am getting there. I came upon a life-transforming verse:

I keep my eyes always on the LORD. With Him at my right hand, I will not be shaken. Therefore my heart is glad, and my tongue rejoices. My body also will rest secure.

That is two verses actually. The final phrase has been most comforting.

My body also will rest secure.

I don’t think I trust God with my body. I struggle with trusting Him to keep me healthy. I struggle with knowing my genetic disorder means should I ever marry and then desire to have children, that may not be possible. I struggle with knowing the complications which run on the other side of my family in the female department. Even if I get around the disorder, it is possible pregnancy won’t happen. I lose confidence when I consider my future husband may be disappointed in my body’s inability to be enough.

Honestly, I don’t mind so much for me. I have always wanted to foster – not even adopt just foster. Love those who are so broken and abandoned and in those tough spots so very few are willing to love them through. But what if it makes my husband sad? And what if some day, I just fall over dead walking down a street like my uncle did? Only he wasn’t on a street. He was on a farm. What will people say about whether I was responsible with what God gave me? What if I am not doing enough to care for His creation?

But mainly… what will people say???

Surely there must be some area of your life where you can relate to that question! I am a risk-taker, but I wonder what people will say when the risks I take go really south. Will anyone believe God was working in my life? Will anyone believe I was following? Will my witness be ruined as I fail?

David said he could trust God with his body. His body could rest. Sometimes I think I need to push and push and push and push until I am exhausted. Give my body rest, good food? Who needs that?

He said his body could rest secure. I love how he states it so confidently. In an age when there was no health insurance, life insurance, doctors, surgeons, gyms… Okay, fighting the lions, bears, giants and Philistines probably takes care of the gym thing. But it emphasizes my point.

David had confidence his body would rest secure. That phrase has been changing my life. My confidence isn’t in health insurance. My confidence isn’t in my uterus. My confidence certainly isn’t in my physical heart or more specifically my aorta. My confidence is in my God.

And confidence in my God doesn’t mean I don’t know there is the possibility I will die as I walk down the street or as I unthinkingly sprint from the burst of energy that joy from Him has produced in my heart. Confidence in Him doesn’t mean He will surely give my husband children through me someday. (I am still not convinced I want them myself.)

Confidence in Him means if I do die walking down the street or if I never have a child, He will still be all I need. He will still be everything I have ever wanted. I need Him more than air. And if someday He doesn’t provide me with air, He will still be enough.

My confidence can rest in Him. He has promised that someday I will come Home to Him. The new Home will be a place where I will be eternally safe. I will have a new body. One that will never die. It will never experience pain. No one will ever think it is ugly or too tall or too skinny or too knobby-kneed. It’s going to be perfect.

But my confidence isn’t in its perfection. May it forever be in the Giver of the promise!

Do you struggle with feeling like you can trust God with your body? What does the way you carry and treat your body say to those around you about your confidence in God?


bottom of page