The Temple You Were Given Fitness as Sacred Stewardship

Here's a truth that might sting.

You don't own your body. You never did. You were handed this flesh, these bones, this beating heart. And one day you'll hand it back. The question isn't whether you'll lose it. The question is: what will you have done with it?

This is the framework that changes everything. You're not the owner. You're the steward. And a steward who lets the master's house fall into ruin isn't just lazy. He's unfaithful.

Most people read that verse and think it's about avoiding sin. And sure, that's part of it. But there's something deeper here. Something that completely reframes why you should get off the couch and move.

You know the story. A master leaves his servants with talents. Wealth to manage in his absence. Two servants invest wisely. One buries his in the ground out of fear.

When the master returns, the first two servants are rewarded. The third? Cast out. Not because he lost the money. Because he did nothing with it.

Now apply this to your body. You've been given:

• Muscles that can grow stronger when stressed, or atrophy when neglected.
• A cardiovascular system designed to expand its capacity. Or shrink it.
• A mind-body connection that sharpens with use or dulls with disuse.
• Decades of potential to serve, to lift, to carry, to help. Or to become a burden.

The servant who buried his talent wasn't punished for taking risks that failed. He was punished for refusing to try at all. For treating something precious as something to merely preserve rather than multiply.

Here's where the Steward mindset becomes powerful. It rescues you from the shallow vanity of modern fitness culture while giving you something far more motivating.

You're not getting strong for yourself. You're getting strong so you can be useful. So you can serve. So you can carry what needs to be carried, both literally and metaphorically.

This is the beautiful thing about the Steward mindset: it makes fitness an act of love. Not self-love in the shallow Instagram sense. Love for others. Love for the life you've been entrusted with. Love for the people who need you to show up strong.

Strength for service. You're not building muscle for yourself alone.

Now here's where we need to talk about the trap. Because the Steward archetype has a dark side, and if you're not careful, it will destroy you.

The shadow of the Steward is martyrdom. It's the person who serves everyone else while letting their own temple crumble. The parent who has no time for exercise because the kids need everything. The professional who skips meals because "there's too much work." The caregiver who cares for everyone except themselves.

Jesus didn't run himself into the ground. He withdrew to pray. He rested. He ate with friends. He knew that sustainable service requires sustainable energy.

If guilt is driving your neglect, if you feel like you don't deserve to take care of yourself, hear this: You are not the sacrifice. That sacrifice has already been made. Your job isn't to destroy yourself. Your job is to steward what you've been given, including your own well-being.

Eugene Peterson wrote about "a long obedience in the same direction." That's what fitness becomes when you adopt the Steward mindset.

You're not chasing a transformation. You're not counting down to some finish line. You're simply being faithful, day after day, to the body you've been entrusted with.

This changes everything about how you approach training:

• You stop looking for shortcuts because faithfulness can't be hacked.
• You stop comparing yourself to others because you're only accountable for your own talents.
• You stop quitting when results slow down because the point was never the results.
• You start thinking in decades instead of weeks.

The Steward doesn't ask "how fast can I see abs?" The Steward asks "how can I still be strong and useful at 70? At 80? How can I avoid being a burden? How can I maximize the years I've been given?"