Dancing in the Light of His Temple
Photo by Thomas Bender
An Essay by Courtney Moody
“…do you not know that your body is a temple of the Holy Spirit within you, whom you have from God? You are not your own, for you were bought with a price. So glorify God in your body.” –1 Corinthians 6:19-20, ESV
Calling our bodies a temple is almost overwhelming.
I am in awe of art depicting what the original temple built by the Israelites looked like. While functional, it was beautiful. Designed according to God’s instructions, handcrafted by Jewish masters, it featured golden carvings of cherubim, almond blossoms, and more. In Christian traditions, grand cathedrals let their spires soar as stained glass windows bathe us in light that inspires us to imagine the undiscovered colors of Heaven.
And yet, we try to make our living temples disappear.
𓇢𓆸 𓇢𓆸 𓇢𓆸
As a ballet dancer, weight has been part of my consciousness since high school. I attended a daytime training program as many aspiring dancers do. Our dance classes began early in the morning, with rehearsals and other classes or conditioning lasting until late afternoon, leaving nighttime for academics. Staring at yourself in a mirror all day with the purpose of finding fault is ample fuel for the developing minds of teenagers.
Our training was sprinkled with talks of weight. Eat more protein. Less carbs. Be a feather so the boys can lift you.
A scale waited in the back room to weigh us, the number never small enough. Costume fittings changed from magical awe of tulle to an anxiety-filled wait as you gripped every muscle, praying the hooks of a child-sized tutu would clasp, whether you could breathe or not.
On breaks, we ran down the sidewalk to K-Mart for small snacks. We hid the contraband in our shoes when we returned, sneaking Reese’s cups and Haribo bags into the dressing room and praying our teachers didn’t hear the packaging rattle as we raced past them.
Though the ballet industry is making small, pointed steps towards more healthful bodies and appearances, the shadows linger. This art form with such beauty in its ability to glorify our Creator is targeted with a sharp weapon of eating disorders and body dysmorphia.
We are made in the image of God, and dance has the power to highlight our Lord’s craftsmanship. Perhaps that’s why the enemy knows just the weapon for us—to twist our perception of the divine.
𓇢𓆸 𓇢𓆸 𓇢𓆸
I have walked alongside struggling friends. One whose lunches consisted of green beans in an effort to fight the wide setting of her bones. Even though she would begin classes lightheaded, her determination for dance overrode any concerns.
Another would subsist through four hours of rehearsals fueled by nothing but a strawberry Pop-Tart. Costumes were taken in for her and still appeared baggy. Any food to her mind was gluttony, and gluttony a sin, and she would do all she could for holiness.
I knew the tales of dancers who had stepped too close to the fantasy of the ghosts in our classic ballet, Giselle. To witness the same darkness reaching for my friends from the inside was crushing. How I wished they could have my vision to see their beauty, how God had created them to take space as temples designed by the master architect.
But logic is a poor weapon against shadows of the mind. No matter how much I insisted on the beauty of my friends, that the mirror they saw was from another reality, my words fell short.
All I could do was pray. I prayed for the shadows to dissipate and the scales obscuring reality to fall from their eyes. Those prayers were my strongest weapon against the spirit that wishes to destroy the temples God created and that I called sisters in Christ.
And thankfully, I have that weapon for myself, too.
𓇢𓆸 𓇢𓆸 𓇢𓆸
Though I have never been clinically diagnosed with anorexia or bulimia, memories of ill-informed talks about nutrition and BMI linger. I didn’t notice how much those shadows had taken residence in the halls of my own mind until I shifted my dance career to a freelance base, taking class as I can and managing my writing career simultaneously.
The thoughts arise: You shouldn’t eat that. You need to exercise today. You’re so out of shape. You look bad.
Yet for every arrow of attack, there is a prayer and the sword of the Word: my body is the temple of the Holy Spirit.
My friends who struggled have emerged and are even more beautiful. They’re literal doctors and mothers and rocket scientists. They look human. They look like women. They are made in the image of God.
I look at inspired paintings of biblical women. I see Caravaggio’s “Martha and Mary Magdalene”1 and admire their forms. They fill the composition in a depiction of divine conversion. Biblical inspirations not because of what they looked like, but for what truly matters: their faith.
Even when darkness tries to twist the mirror against me, I will pray for my vision to be clear. I will pray for my body to be a pleasing home for the Holy Spirit. I will pray to be remembered by my faith and the fruit of the Holy Spirit inside of me.
This body is a temple, decorated with the blossoms of God’s craftsmanship, and I will not choose to diminish it.
𓇢𓆸 𓇢𓆸 𓇢𓆸
1. Caravaggio, Amerighi da. Martha and Mary Magdalene. 1598. Oil on canvas, 100 cm x 134.5 cm (39 in x 53 in). Detroit Institute of Arts.
Courtney Moody is a dancer, writer, and poet of faith. Her work is published or forthcoming in publications such as Ekstasis Magazine, The Way Back to Ourselves, and Brain Mill Press’ Ab Terra anthology. In 2022, her poem "Florida Anatomy" was awarded 2nd place for the Florida State Poet's Association Award, and in 2024, she was a contributor for Christianity Today’s Advent devotional, A Time for Wonder. In addition to creating poetry and choreography that seek the divine, she is also the Assistant Editor for the literary journal, Vessels of Light. She can be found on Instagram @courtofwriting and Substack @courtmoody.
