The Theology of Skin

In 1978, Dr. Edgar Rey Sanabria faced a crisis in Bogotá, Colombia. His neonatal unit was overwhelmed — too many premature babies, not enough incubators. Out of desperation, he tried something radical. He placed the tiny infants directly against their mothers' bare chests.

What happened next stunned the medical world.

The babies' heart rates stabilized. Their breathing steadied. Their temperatures regulated. Survival rates soared. Scientists later discovered something even more remarkable: a mother's body will actually adjust its own temperature — warming up or cooling down — to meet the exact need of the child against her skin. Her body becomes a living thermostat, calibrated entirely for someone else.

They called it kangaroo care. Today it is standard practice in hospitals worldwide.

I think about that when I read the words of the Almighty through the prophet Isaiah: "Can a mother forget the baby at her breast and have no compassion on the child she has borne? Though she may forget, I will not forget you" (Isaiah 49:15).

God's love is not abstract theology. It is not a doctrine you memorize for an exam. It is the love of a body that rearranges its own chemistry for the sake of another. It is warmth that crosses the boundary of skin and self.

You are held that close. You have always been held that close.