Bath Time

I think God's female form is an old, lovingly round, Turkish lady. And she is likely scrubbing the skin off your soul.

The moment this image came to me, I was laying in a sauna full of air so warm and humid I wasn't sure how I was breathing it. I was somewhere on the European side of Istanbul, in a Turkish bath house, freshly soaked, scrubbed, bubble-bathed, and massaged. And I felt incredibly human, and completely whole.

If you've never been to a Turkish bath, it may seem confusing that one would pay to strip down and have someone the age of your grandma bathe you so vigorously your skin rubs off - which it literally does, in gray clumps that make you think you aught to use a wash cloth more often. However, I can tell you that it is an experience I now believe everyone should have at some point during their lifetime.

I felt like a child, taken back to the days when staying clean wasn't something I could do on my own. This feeling was probably augmented by the language barrier, which gave my Turkish grandma no choice but to simply reach out and take whichever arm or leg she was going to wash next, with me limply going along. In a warm room filled with women, she rubbed off my dead skin, soaped up my newly pink body and massaged it, and washed my hair. Between each stage, I was motioned over to faucet where I sat down and was doused with warm water before returning to the slab of heated marble. By the end, I was CLEAN.

Did I mention I was nearly naked this entire time? Yep. Everything's gotta be scrubbed. What started out feeling uncertain and uncomfortable soon became natural and healing, because I realized that I had never felt so un-sexualized in my life. I had to get naked to stop caring about my body.

Now, I'm not terribly insecure. In fact, I think I have pretty good self esteem. But none of us can live in this culture and not be touched by the ads, movies, and stereotypes swirling around us. No one. Even subconsciously, we become so concerned about our bodies and everyone else's.

Laying in that sauna, I felt God reach in and touch my soul:

Look at your body. It's a miracle of tiny cells, coming together to make you into My image. Yes, it sweats, cries, and bleeds, but all of those things make you more like Me.

It also gets dirty. There is the dust of my earth, proof that you fit into the beauty of creation. Then there is the coating of mud that is not from me, that is thrown at you by the world and distorts your image to something very unlike Me.

But it's just a body, and it can be cleaned. All of my children's bodies can be cleaned, so that their curves and edges once again point to Me. After all, you were created in My image, so being completely human is as close as you can get to Me.

This is just a body, it is not you. So don't be so concerned with it, child. Because just as she has scrubbed your body clean, so will I scrub your soul, and that's a bath that can never be soiled.

And with that, I found the most amazing peace, for myself and the world. I know it won't stick around nearly as long as I want it to. I know that all too soon, I'll be once again worried about things like pimples and leg hair and a thigh gap. But hopefully I will be able to catch myself, and hear once again the simplicity I found in that Turkish bath.

In the meantime, I will hug tightly the image of God as an old, lovingly round, Turkish lady, scrubbing my soul clean.