God, Guilt, and the Body He Made

A spiritual reflection on shame, embodiment, and the quiet ache for acceptance

Support me by reading from the members only section.

I was told that the human body is sacred.
That God created us in the best form.
That every inch of us was intentional.
That He shaped us with love.

And then I was told to cover it.
Hide it.
Be ashamed of it.
Protect others from the sight of it — as if it were dangerous.

I was told that showing my skin could cause others to sin.
That my chest, my thighs, my bare presence could provoke evil.
That I could harm someone — just by being seen.

I was taught guilt before I ever felt desire.
Taught to lower my gaze before I knew what I was looking at.
Taught that modesty was purity —
And that anything outside it was filth.

But if the body is made by God,
If He sculpted our bones and nerves and curves,
If He breathed life into flesh,
Why would He call His own creation shameful?

I grew up Muslim.
I grew up hearing the word Awrah — the parts of the body that must be hidden.
For men, it was the area between the navel and knees.
For women, it was almost everything.

The message was clear:
Your body is not yours. It’s a potential sin for others.

And I believed it.
For years, I swallowed that shame.
I wore it like a second skin.

But over time, something started to feel off.

If God gave me a voice, shouldn’t I use it?
If He gave me a mind, shouldn’t I question?

If He gave me a body — shouldn’t I feel at home in it?

The first time I stood naked in nature,
I wasn’t thinking of sin.
I was thinking of the wind on my skin.
The warmth of sunlight on parts of me that had never felt it.
The feeling of being whole — not hiding, not performing.

It didn’t feel wrong.
It felt holy.
Like I had returned to something ancient and untouched.
Like Adam before the fig leaves.
Like truth before doctrine.

Maybe guilt isn’t proof of sin.
Maybe guilt is a reaction to rules written by men
and passed down as divine.

Maybe God isn’t the one shaming us.
Maybe He’s the one waiting for us to come home to ourselves.

I still struggle.
The beliefs planted in childhood don’t leave easily.
Sometimes I feel the old fear rise up —
That I’ll be punished for thinking this way.
That God is watching, disappointed.

But then I remember…
If God is all-knowing, then He knew I’d ask these questions.
If He is all-loving, then He doesn’t fear my doubts.
He welcomes them. Because truth doesn’t break under pressure.

I still pray.
Not because I’m obedient — but because I’m in love with the mystery.
I still whisper His name — not from fear, but from longing.
I still want to be close. But not the way I was taught.
I want to be close to a God who embraces my whole being.
Naked. Honest. Searching.

Sometimes I pray naked.
Not out of rebellion — but reverence.
Because if God made me this way,
Why would I cover up to speak to Him?
It feels raw. Honest. Pure.
Like nothing stands between us, not even fabric.

So this is my prayer now:

Not for forgiveness, He understands
But for Clarity.

Not for guilt, I am pure
But for peacefulness.

Not for shame to return, He sees me
But for the courage to see myself the way God might see me —
Fully, freely, and without fear.

Read Next
Why I Never Told My Wife I Was a Nudist
An honest exploration of secrecy, fear, and love

• If this spoke to you, clap, follow, or share it with someone who needs it. Every read helps me keep writing honestly, and freely. It also helps people similar to my case to be stronger and stand for their beliefs.*

If you found this meaningful and want to support my writing journey, you can buy me a coffee

You can also follow me here on Medium, join my community on Reddit:
— a safe, non-judgmental space for discussion, Or Follow me on Reddit @freespiritunmasked.