Good Health Makes Good Sense

Sisters and Brothers,

I have reached the age where my body has become a sound machine.

Not a peaceful one.

More like an old house settling in the wind.

I stand up; something pops.

I bend over; something negotiates.

I sleep wrong; and my neck acts like I personally offended it.

That is one of the great surprises of getting older. We spend the first half of life thinking our bodies are vehicles. Then one day we realize we have been driving a rental car with bald tires and a warning light we ignored for fifteen years.

When we are young, we can eat gas-station food at midnight and wake up ready to conquer the world.

Later in life, one questionable taco can turn the next day into a full committee meeting with our digestive system.

So yes; good health makes good sense.

Not because we are trying to become fitness influencers.

Nobody needs me standing on a mountain at sunrise holding a green smoothie and pretending kale changed my life.

It has not.

Good health matters because life is already heavy enough. We do not need to make the load harder by treating our bodies like storage sheds for stress, sugar, and leftover pizza.

Years ago, I wrote about health from a business point of view. Wellness programs. Medical costs. Sick days. Stress. Exercise. Nutrition. All the thrilling things that make people sit in a workplace meeting and think, “Great. Someone is about to attack my soda.”

But underneath all of that was a simple truth that still feels right:

Taking care of ourselves matters.

It matters at work.

It matters at home.

It matters in our families.

It matters in our faith.

And it matters because our bodies are not disposable.

In the Church, we often talk about the body as a temple. I believe that. I also admit that some days my temple feels less like a beautiful sacred building and more like a fixer-upper with a weird noise in the crawlspace.

Still sacred.

Just in need of maintenance.

President Boyd K. Packer taught that the Word of Wisdom is a principle with promises. I like that because it does not turn health into a magic trick. It does not mean faithful people never get sick. It does not mean righteous knees never ache. It does not mean cholesterol reads the scriptures and behaves.

It means God gives us wise principles; then invites us to live with some sense.

That is where I need grace.

Because health can get strange fast.

Some people turn it into vanity.

Some turn it into guilt.

Some turn it into a hobby so intense that dessert becomes something made of beans and disappointment.

I am not judging.

I am just saying brownies should not require a testimony meeting.

The gospel gives us something better than shame. It gives us stewardship.

That word helps me.

Stewardship means we care for what God has placed in our hands. Our time. Our families. Our work. Our faith. Our bodies.

It does not mean perfection.

It does not mean we all need to run marathons.

It does not mean we need to throw away every snack in the house and replace it with something that tastes like packing material.

It means we start where we are.

We drink more water.

We take a walk.

We get some sleep.

We make one better choice.

We schedule the appointment we keep avoiding.

We stop pretending stress is a personality trait.

We learn to rest without acting like rest is a moral failure.

That last one may take some of us a while.

There is also room for compassion here. Health is not a righteousness contest. Some of us carry chronic pain. Some of us deal with anxiety, depression, injury, disability, grief, age, medication side effects, or bodies that do not cooperate no matter how hard we try.

A person can love God deeply and still need a doctor.

A person can have strong faith and still need a nap.

A person can be doing their best and still feel worn out.

So this is not about judging bodies.

It is about honoring the gift.

The Lord cares about the whole soul. Body and spirit. Prayer and sleep. Scripture and movement. Repentance and rest. We sometimes separate those things; but real life does not.

When I am exhausted, I am less patient.

When I am stressed, I am less kind.

When I am living on caffeine and stubbornness, I am usually not at my spiritual best.

That does not mean every problem can be fixed with a salad and a walk. Some burdens are much heavier than that.

But ordinary care still matters.

A glass of water can be discipleship.

A walk can be discipleship.

A doctor appointment can be discipleship.

Going to bed before midnight can be discipleship.

Choosing not to run our bodies into the ground can be discipleship.

Not the dramatic kind. Not the kind with swelling music and a perfect ending. Just the quiet kind where we tell God, “I am trying to take better care of what You gave me.”

Good health makes good sense because we are needed.

Our families need us.

Our friends need us.

Our callings need us.

Our future selves need us.

And God can do a lot with a willing heart; but it helps when that heart is not being dragged around by a body running on fumes.

So maybe the next right thing is simple.

A walk.

A nap.

A better meal.

A little less sugar.

A little more water.

A little more grace.

A little less pretending we are fine when we are not.

God is not asking us to become perfect-looking people.

He is inviting us to become wiser stewards.

To care for the temple.

Even when the temple creaks a little when it stands up.

I leave these thoughts with you in the name of Jesus Christ. Amen

President Boyd K. Packer, “The Word of Wisdom: The Principle and the Promises,” April 1996 General Conference. 

Doctrine and Covenants 89:18–211 Corinthians 6:19–20