When Your Stomach Would Eat You Alive

Your stomach works in a place no one would willingly step into. The acid inside it can break down metal in controlled lab tests — the sort of strength that would ruin almost anything else in your body. Yet it doesn’t ruin you. It doesn’t eat through your own tissues. It doesn’t burn a hole straight through your life.

Why? Because the lining on the inside of your stomach is replaced every few days. The old cells are sacrificed and swept away, and new ones rise from deep in the gastric glands to take their place. That cycle never stops. If it did, even for a short while, the acid would begin carving into the tissue beneath it. Ulcers form when that balance falters; healing returns only when the rhythm is restored. Renewal is the only reason survival is possible in such a harsh environment.

And when you sit with that for a moment — that your own body quietly rebuilds itself right where the conditions are most hostile — something deeper comes into view. Jehovah didn’t design you to be fragile at every point. He safeguarded even the places you never think about. You sleep, eat, laugh, serve, and your stomach lining dies and rises again without you ever noticing. A small, constant act of care hidden in the dark, whispered into the fabric of your biology. It’s hard not to feel gratitude when you realize how many quiet mercies carry you through an ordinary day.

Tags: physiology, design, renewal, gratitude.