She looked in the mirror
and saw… uncertainty.
After reading Regina
Franklin’s book Who Calls Me Beautiful
and underlining truth after truth that the author beautifully and passionately
penned, something within me started to unravel. But it wasn’t what I expected.
I read scriptures that declared
God’s high opinion of me. I nodded my head in agreement when she referenced
today’s lost culture. I reposted paragraphs onto Facebook that I desperately
wanted others to read and think about.
But at the end of the
book, I found that I was less certain of what beauty was and more certain that
everything I had built up around me to assure myself that I was beautiful was
suddenly as frail as the paper pages I had been reading from.
Inside, the unraveling
was twofold. While the falsely promoted worldly ideas of beauty began to unwind
from my mind as truth loosened their grip, so unraveled any certainty I had
about what [true] beauty is.
It is not that I did
not see the truth written out in the honest real-life examples from Regina’s
life or the scripture she used that reminded me that Jesus was beauty [or beautiful, or full of beauty] even though he was
humble in appearance. I saw the truth written in there, black ink on white
paper. But my heart and mind were in turmoil at the presentation of the new
information. It was deep, it was intense, it was quite literally life-changing,
and it went against everything I had been taught for 22 years by a pushy
culture that overwhelmed [or, from the Christian culture, that failed to
communicate] truths that were… well… true.
I don’t fault Regina’s book for the internal turmoil; I fault the ocean of
information that was threatening the secure world I was living in and a mind
that was too frail to handle the change of ideology.
Suddenly, everything
that was happening around me was crystal clear. No longer was I being swept
away by a foggy torrent of big-toothed cosmetic promoters, modish talk show
hosts, or pictures of airbrushed models. I clearly saw and heard the ugly,
empty, and relentless mistruths. No longer could I take one or two or seven
pictures [selfies or groupies] without suddenly realizing that I was trying to
assure the every-present “am I beautiful” question that I was indeed acceptable
to myself and those who would see me. No longer could I ignore the fact that
when I chose an outfit on Sunday morning, I spent the better side of 30 minutes
choosing it for people’s opinions, all the while transforming my bedroom into a
tornado zone and my attitude into a prideful, non-Christ-centered kill-zone for
anyone who dared to step foot inside and risk setting off a landmine.
In a war, those who are
called to fight look impeccably uniform as they march in unison. Crisp steps,
eyes straight ahead, weapons in hand. But when the last piece of ticker tape has
floated to the ground and the battlefield is in sight, every soldier faces a
moment of self-questioning, of fear. There are those who harden their resolve
and long for the battle to begin, for victory to be fought for and won. There
are those who long for victory, but whose steps stutter on the march forward
into battle, fear and not bravery being the overwhelming emotion rising in
their chest. And then there are those who desert or betray the cause and their
comrades, running away from everything that threatens what they have known to
be comfortable.
I am sure that I am not
the latter, but I am afraid that the most uncertain part of what I am learning
is that I am not the former either. I am the one in the middle, the one who
longs for victory, believes in the cause, wants to find bravery along with my
comrades in Christ, but who is afraid of the unknown. [That is what it is right
now. The unknown, the uncertain. Beauty.] Wars are long, and they are not won
overnight. I am afraid that this war that is about to rage inside of my mind
and heart about beauty will be a long journey and that I will lose heart.
Even now, like a
soldier getting recklessly drunk on the eve of battle, I feel as though I am
purposely spurning the truth I have read, intentionally rebelling and seeking
approval and the false stamp of beauty from everything and everyone. I am not
ready. I don’t want to go. I never thought myself brave enough to fight such a
battle. It was much more comfortable sailing along, enjoying the false but
colorful delights of the Vanity Fair, all the while mouthing Christianisms to
myself and others that I wished I believed with all of my heart but never found
the strength to. But now, having read this book, having signed up for this
battle [for if anyone knows good that they should do and they do not do it,
that is sin – James 4:17], I cannot turn back.
It’s been a week or so
since I have finished the book. “Wonderful!” I praised the book to a number of
people I knew. I bought a copy for my sister. I recommended to some friends
that we do a study from it together. I expressed my desire that every woman
should read it.
And every morning
since, I have woken up in confusion, with a heaviness of heart, uncertain of
what I am supposed to do now. This book that I so praised became a truth that
sat heavy on my heart, unwilling to be left only as a Christiany Facebook post
and left to gather dust on my soul. It required action. And so it weighed more
and more on my heart with each passing day.
Two days ago, I looked
in the mirror… and saw it. I saw the uncertainty there. It broke my heart the
moment it perceivably shone through, because I knew suddenly saw what I
believed about myself and about beauty. And it was so far from the thoughts my
precious Savior has of me.
I smiled into the
mirror and noticed [for the first time possibly ever, it seems] the crookedness
of my teeth. I was dismayed,
disheartened, and repulsed at the
imperfection.
That dismay opened the
door, and the harsh, piercing reflection of my heart was made evident to me.
And I cried.
I cried because what I
saw of my smile was ugly and undesirable. I cried because I heard the echo of
voices past saying how much they enjoyed my smile and my Christ-like spirit and
because I knew that I used their appreciation of my joyfulness about life to
justify my conditional self-acceptance about my less-than-perfect teeth. I
cried because I wanted to be beautiful according to the world’s standards, but
because I knew that that was the wrong thing to desire. And I cried because I
could feel my Savior’s love in my moment of weakness.
I let the water from
the shower wash away the tears as they came, but the warm water did nothing to
soothe my dismayed heart. So for a time, I let myself sink into a gloomy
despair about the oncoming war.
For days, I have been
troubled. Fellowship with friends has seemed wearisome, but I put on a smile
and chat and my spirits are lifted for a time. The energy to think of anything
else but the weight on my heart seems to take an exertion of will power to
engage in. Spiritual truths that others have shared with me: I have responded
with a half-hearted agreement enough to satisfy them. And discouragement has seemed
to heap upon me with every glance in the reflection of a store window, with
every blemish that appears on my face, with every pressure I feel from society
and even from those closest and dearest to me.
Yes, this is a cry for
help. This is a cry to my fellow comrades. This is a cry to my family. This is
a cry to my husband. But mostly, this is a cry to my Savior, the one who has already made a way out of the prison I
am in. The doors have been rent open by the sacrifice Jesus made for me to be
in free in him. All I have to do is believe that there is something better on
the other side of the prison bars. And I have to walk through to the other side.
I am engaged. I know
truth. I am in this war, however uncertain of myself I am.
Now…
Now I need a commander.
I need to know my weapons. I need to know my orders. I need to have a purpose
and a reason. I need to have a team to march boldly with me. I need to believe
in this. I need to personally own it. I need to WANT to win. I need to care, to
sacrifice things.
I need to dedicate
myself to the purpose of relentlessly fighting to discover the meaning of
beauty, finding victory only when I can see beauty through God’s eyes. I will
sacrifice sleep to spend morning hours studying God’s word. I will sacrifice my
pride and choose to look for God’s opinion and not the self-satisfying opinion
of others. I will engage my mind to meditate on spiritual truth. I will lean
heavily on the Holy Spirit to massage truth into my heart. I will create accountability
with my comrades and ask them to help me keep my eyes focused on victory, not
discouragement. I will pray for my husband to walk alongside me. I will trust
wholly in God to direct me in this journey.
“When I turned, I saw…
someone ‘like a son of man,’ dressed in a robe reaching down to his feet and
with a golden sash around his chest. His head and hair were white like wool, as
white as snow, and his eyes were like blazing fire. His feet were like bronze
glowing in a furnace, and his voice was like the sound of rushing waters. In
his right hand he held seven stars, and out of his mouth came a sharp
double-edged sword. His face was like the sun shining in all brilliance…
“I saw heaven standing
open, and there before me was a white horse, whose rider is called Faithful and
True. With justice he judges and makes war. His eyes are like blazing fire, and
on his head are many crowns. He has a name written on him that on one knows but
he himself. He is dressed in a robe dipped in blood, and his name is the Word
of God. The armies of heaven were following him, riding on white horses and
dressed in fine linen, white and clean. Out of his mouth comes a sharp sword
with which to strike down the nations. ‘He will rule them with an iron scepter.’
He treads the winepress of the fury of the wrath of God Almighty. On his robe
and on his thigh he has this name written: KING OF KINGS AND LORD OF LORDS.”
This is my commander.
And he is at war
already with the world’s abominable distortion of what he has created. Beauty
is his. God created everything beautiful. Moreover, he is beauty. The presence of God will be the most breathtaking,
beautiful thing we have ever seen because it is pure, it is essence, it is
holy, it is fearsome.
His plan is to lead us
into our personal battle against the world’s distorted lies, and he is leading
thousands in the same purpose.
Look at the description
of Revelation again.
I can do all things
through the King of Kings and Lord of Lords who bolsters my courage, gives me
truth to live by, strengthens my mind and heart, and equips me with what is
necessary to find victory. Every. Day.
He sees everything that
happens in his creation (Hebrews 4:13), and he notices when I am in need of
help on the battlefield. In those moments, he does not hesitate to send reinforcements:
people to support me, messages to encourage me, songs to lift my spirits,
nature and art to point back to his beauty, majesty, glory, and power. And I
can trust that he will always, ever, be there for me. When I lose heart, he
fills it with courage. He is strong in my weakness.
He is for me. Who,
then, can be against me? I cannot even be against myself, because I am a child
of God who has been given the promise that he will continue the good work he
started in me… and never give up. I cannot escape from the grace and mercy of
my relentlessly loving God. He will pursue me and pursue my life.
Beauty is a thing not
yet understood by me. I am entering this battle with uncertainty of what I will
find, what I will surrender, who will join me, and how I will affect others.
But I am certain of
this: I am certain that Jesus is beautiful. He who “had nothing in his
appearance that people should desire him” is beautiful to me. When I close my
eyes to worship the one who I trust… the one who I love with every atom in me…
the one who pursues me relentlessly… the one who delights in me… the one who
lavishes his love upon me… the only word I can think to use to describe him is “beautiful.”
As she looked at the
dawn breaking on the battleground, she look up into the face of her commander,
her Savior, her Jesus, and saw… beauty.
And that is the only
thing that she needed to be certain of before she let loose her battle cry.
