Pleasure and Panic 

My granddaughter and I enjoyed a great time together one day this week at Universal Studios in Orlando. Naomi is visiting with us for two weeks, and Universal Epic Universe was one of her dream activities.

After a wonderful PopPop-Granddaughter day, we were exhausted—but happy. Before a three-hour drive home, we stopped at the restrooms. We then walked in the melting Florida heat and humidity—which our granddaughter from Seattle is not used to—for fifteen minutes. Arriving at the exit, Naomi exclaimed,

“PopPop! I left my waist belt with my phone, my money, and my personal belongings in the restroom!”

What’s a PopPop to Do? Or, “Theological Anthropology and Grandparenting” 

Remember, I was tired, too. So, instinctively I immediately prayed a quick, brief prayer,

“Spirit, fill me with Your patience.”

Prayer answered. Here’s what we did on our fifteen-minute hurried walk (in “feels like” temps of 102) back to the restroom—organized like “theological anthropology”! These are not necessarily in “chronological” order—many happened simultaneously and repeatedly.

• Emotional: First, I sought to connect with Naomi’s feelings. She was in a panic. She was beating herself up. “Oh. I’m sorry, honey. I’m sure you’re worried, but we’ll figure it out. I forget things, too…” No: anger, no berating, no blaming.
• Volitional: Next, we acted. “Okay, let’s retrace our steps, head back there, and try to find it.”
• Relational/Social: Touch. We hadn’t been walking hand-in-hand, but at least for the start of this walk, I held Naomi’s hand. Calming her with physical presence. And: not being a jerk! Not being impatient. Being kind and understanding, caring and calm.
• Rational: We discussed likely scenarios. “I’m guessing it is either there, or, more likely, someone has turned it into the staff. If we get there and can’t find it, then we’ll go to the nearest concierge booth.” It didn’t seem necessary or wise at this point to discuss the “what if” of not finding it… We could “cross that proverbial bridge if we came to it.”
• Relational/Spiritual: We said a prayer as we walked/raced back. “Father, Thanks for a GREAT day together today. Please help us find Naomi’s phone and belt back. Please help a kind, honest person to find it and turn it into the staff.”
• Physical: Even with all of this “spiritual theological anthropology,” my granddaughter was still quite distraught. So, we breathed together. “Naomi, let’s breath together. We’ve done it before. Remember. Four in through the nose. Hold for four. Breathe out of our mouth for eight. Ready? Together…” We did that several times. Also physical: we drank some water as we walk-ran. Also physical: we held hands—touch. All of these “theological anthropology” categories were important and helpful. The one that quite noticeably brought detectable calm was—ministering to the physical.

Which of Those Six Theological Anthropology Categories Were “Spiritual”? Which Were “Secular, Pagan, and Godless”? 

I surmise that most biblical counselors would at least be “okay,” at least in some form, with five of the categories above:

• Emotional empathy,
• Purposeful volitional action,
• Relational/social loving connection,
• Rational wisdom,
• Relational/spiritual connection with and dependence upon our heavenly Father.

However, at least for some nouthetic biblical counselors, “breathing exercises” are beyond the bounds of spiritual care. In fact, for some, that would be “secular” care, or “pagan” care, or “secular therapy” (even though the modern iteration of breathing exercises was started by a Harvard professor-physician and not by a “therapist”).

Was it also “secular” to minister to Naomi’s body by holding her hand? By giving her cold water on a hot day? Where’s the biblical boundary line between “secular” and “spiritual” ministry to a panicky thirteen-year-old’s physical body?

I wasn’t acting in the role of “counselor” for my granddaughter. I was living out the role of PopPop (Grandfather) for my granddaughter. Still, I instinctively, without thinking about it at the time, sought to comprehensively and compassionate minister to Naomi in her time of distress. 

Personally, I think all six theological anthropology categories were equally spiritual—including the “physical interventions” of touch, drinking water, and doing deep breathing exercises together.

Personally, I also happen to think that any biblical counselor who wants to be a soul physician of embodied-souls will engage the whole person as an embodied-soul. And I believe that “physiological interventions,” including deep breathing exercises, can be one aspect of comprehensive care. For more on this, see:

• Physiological Interventions and Relief-Oriented Care for the Embodied-Soul in Biblical Counseling
• I’m Never More Christ-Dependent Than When I’m Doing Deep Breathing Exercises
• Of Spirituality and Ice Cubes: A Psalm and a Palm

The Trouble with Quibbles (Star Trek Lovers Will Understand This!) 

The body is spiritual (Genesis 1:26-28; Genesis 2:7; Psalm 139:13-18). Caring for the body is spiritual (1 Kings 19). We worship God with our bodies (Romans 12:1-2). We submit to God the very members of our bodies (Romans 6). We discipline our bodies (1 Corinthians 9:24-27). Our bodies are the temple of the Holy Spirit (1 Corinthians 6:19). Our sanctification is body, soul, and spirit (1 Thessalonians 5:23).

I’ve been caring for the whole person as a biblical counselor since 1985 when I wrote my Th.M. thesis on the Old Testament understanding of theological anthropology. I didn’t call it being a “soul physician of embodied-souls” back then. And no one really quibbled with me back then. Sadly, these days it seems like some quibblers will quibble with anything or anyone that dares to minister to the body—who dares to talk about that dreaded DBE: Deep Breathing Exercises!

In biblical counseling, and in biblical grandparenting, soul physicians of embodied-souls do everything the quibblers do—all the soul stuff. And, we do more—we do the embodied-soul stuff.