Body vs Soul: Who’s in Control?
When we’re led by emotion, our body tends to pull us in one of two directions: toward complacency or toward a false sense of urgency. The sweet spot—the path of peace—is found somewhere in between. But to find that path, we must anchor ourselves not in fleeting feelings, but in reason. And reason itself must be grounded in concrete truth, not in popular opinion or personal preference. Otherwise, we remain slaves to our emotions.
When we let emotion lead, we surrender the reins of our life to the body—an instrument constantly pulled by genetics, environmental influences, and habit. These forces may be natural, but they are not always healthy. They rarely lead to lasting spiritual peace.
A body given control—apart from reason—will always reach toward comfort and self-preservation. It will avoid suffering. But our bodies are the irrational part of our being, and if for no other reason than that, they should not lead.
We don’t take back control by hating our bodies, but by disciplining them. Small, consistent acts of self-denial begin to restore order. When the body begs for another drink, another indulgence, say no.
At the same time, we must feed the rational mind—the soul—with reason, prayer, and truth, so it can stand firm against temptation. The body will protest, of course. It wants what it wants. And when it hears “no,” it will justify, manipulate, and scheme. But what it really wants is control. Only when reason reclaims that control do we find true peace.
To strengthen our rational mind, we must couple denial with understanding. We need to understand why we feel what we feel: Why do we feel lazy? Why do we feel anxious, apathetic, or even content? Is that contentment real peace, or is it hidden complacency?
Approach each feeling with humility and skepticism—not to shame yourself, but to uncover the truth.
Eventually, we’ll see that the peace we do or don’t have is not random. It’s a direct result of our understanding—not head knowledge, but the deep, acquired wisdom that blossoms into spiritual fruit like peace and self-mastery.
Take this reflection: if someone says, “I don’t need to change because I feel good,” we might sympathize—but that’s not good enough.
What happens when suffering inevitably comes—illness, loss, betrayal? What if you “felt good” but hadn’t grown in a way that prepared you to receive that suffering well?
True goodness is not simply feeling good. “I’m good the way I am” can often mask a deeper laziness—a denial of greater potential. This is not a neutral state; it’s a rejection of growth.
On the flip side, what about the person who’s constantly chasing change? Why the urgency? Why the endless restlessness?
Maybe it’s because they know they need healing, salvation, peace.
But even that pursuit, if it becomes obsessive, may reveal another sickness—a soul that lacks gratitude and faith, one that has been taught to fix itself rather than trust in God. We become our own doctors, our own gods.
In both complacency and urgency, the irrational body is steering. Whether lazy and self-justifying, or prideful and controlling—it searches for comfort, not truth.
But the rational soul, when uncluttered and unshackled, sees clearly. It recognizes both the beauty and the brokenness of the world. It doesn’t fear sickness or discomfort, because it knows the source of healing.
It doesn’t surrender to the body’s passions, but it doesn’t hate them either. It tames them. It reorients them back toward truth. That’s what real peace is—not the absence of feeling, but a body and soul working in harmony.
When this happens, the body becomes a vessel of love, virtue, and discipline—not a sick, untamed beast dragging the soul around.
So, we must constantly ask ourselves:
Why do I feel what I feel?
Why do I act the way I do?
And we cannot stop asking until our answers are grounded in truth. Otherwise, we’ll live in a false peace—like bathing in the cauldron of a witch. It may feel warm… but it’s killing you.