Mirror, Mirror

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.

Ink Idol

the flitting of a hummingbird.

the busyness of a hamster on a wheel.

the good intentions of any well-meaning person.

That’s me right now. And I feel guilty.

My to-do list and day-minder are filled to the brim with things to accomplish, places to be, dates to remember, goals to meet.

And it makes me feel satisfied that I have things to fill my day with. I feel fulfilled when I can check things off of my list.

But there is an irony, a twist.

I idolize my list. And when we idolize something, we look for it to fill a part of us that only God can fill.

And the irony is that most of the things that I am writing on my to-do list seem to get bumped to the next day, and the next, and the next. All of the penned-in reminders that made me nod in satisfaction become jeering testaments of what I failed to do that day.

Why did I fail to do them? Because I sat down and watched a TV show or two or five. Because I scrolled through Facebook for 30+ minutes several times a day, hoping to catch some exciting news, something to disapprove of, something to repost or share or be entertained by. Because I spent an hour getting ready for the day, primping and puttering around the house. Because I put my agenda and my feelings before a higher, more noble, more self-giving item on the list. Because I slept in.

I make a plan for the day. It is unchangeable. If you try to change it, I will get grumpy. If I change it, it’s obviously in my own best interest and therefore unquestionably in need of the change. Don’t judge. It’s my agenda, after all. Sniff.

And so I have my day’s plan, I whittle away my time irresponsibly and selfishly, I motivate myself to go to work by thinking about how quickly it will pass, and I ensure that everything that I deem important is done. My errands, my workout, my meals, my relaxation time, my leisure activities. Often times, I will fill my quota on the “do good” portion of my list and call it good for the week. Then on to more me-stuff [the actual important stuff, obviously].

And at the end of the day, I walk in the door from work and I am instantly grumpy. Truly, from the moment I woke up, I started counting the hours until I can come home and relax and do what I want. Which ends up being more me-stuff [selfish, gluttonous, non-prioritized, ME-stuff]. Make dinner? Instantly grumpy. Make it yourself. Can’t you help? I wish you would have started part of dinner. Grumble, green monster, gripe. Sink full of dishes. Grr. Unmade bed. Grrrr. Empty cat bowls. Grrrrr. Living room strewn with papers. GRRRRR!

When really, had I been productive and prioritizing earlier in the day or the previous day; had I completed my errands responsibly and without idolizing them; had I looked forward to work as a place to give of myself and “work as unto the Lord”; had I had an attitude of constant compassion and sincerity toward those God put in my life; had I done those things, I would be coming home with a sense of satisfaction from a day that honored God and would set to work cheerfully ministering to my husband and tending my home. And at the very end of the day, I could put my feet up, chat with my husband, enjoy a  TV show, catch up with the what’s-what on Facebook, and give myself a pedicure.

Proverbs 31 describes a woman who I guarantee is the first one up and the last one to bed. She is constantly busy. Yet I can also guarantee that she works because she enjoys the work she is called to do, not because it is a fulfilling idol in her life.

She is confident, wise, physically strong, loving, tender, caring, trustworthy, efficient, compassionate, talented. She does not sloth around doing the bare minimum.

She doesn’t get grumpy over her inner-recognition of where she has slacked off [because she hasn’t slacked off]. She has a great relationship with her family. I doubt she got grumpy. She would have no reason to. She could look at her day and be satisfied that she gave of her physical strength, mental strength, and emotional strength. She saw the value in giving of herself. And she knew how to prioritize to give the most of herself to benefit everyone, herself included.

You all know it: nothing is wrong with relaxing with a good show, catching up via web or in person, hitting the gym for a workout, taking time to pamper yourself.

The point where it gets squirrely is when the agenda takes precedence over not just the broadly-stated “your life”, but, more pointedly, your mind and emotions. When your list becomes the most important things in your mind and to your emotion feel-good/feel-bad ‘tudes, then your decision-making for prioritization will often be very you-centered. When that happens, anything outside of your list [the “less important, less me-stuff stuff”] will be pushed to the next day, and the next, and the next, and…

And you’ll be unhappy. You’ll be gorging yourself with the feast of empty me-stuff, and you’ll feel disgusting when God gives you a gourmet opportunity to give of yourself to someone else.

Imma haveta fine tune this philosophy, this truth. I’m not sure [at all] how I am going to learn to do this.

My last post was on putting only honest things into the construction of the mold of my life. Putting things in that I truly wanted in there. This is one of those things.

I’m pretty sure this is going to take me a bit of time to practice and practice and practice until I have weeded out the destructive practices I have established in my hamster wheel.

My sister-in-law, Anna, recently shared this:

I cannot hear that still small voice if my inward parts are so consumed with my own thoughts, agenda, and outside influences. I have been practicing quietness even in the busyness. What a freeing thing to have busy hands and busy days, but a quiet spirit. I am so thankful and it is much better than an anxious, worn-out heart. Abiding in Him is where our momentary strength comes, and it is how we make wise choices in the disruptive moments of the day. 

To have busy hands and busy days, but a quiet spirit. Elisabeth Elliot was a champion, it seemed, of keeping a quiet heart. It is my prayer and my intent to also become a woman of busy hands and a quiet spirit.

Be encouraged. All things are possible with Christ. 

A whispered question

“What do you want your life to be?”

For the first time, I acknowledged the question. It was not the first time it had been whispered through my mind. But suddenly, today, I heard the whisper clearly.

As I turned my car onto the adjacent road to head home from nannying, my eyes caught sight of a middle-aged man whom I knew had a family and a few small children. In the brief moments of watching him as my car drove past, I noted the big, beautiful, American-Dream-ish house, his impressive front yard of which he was mowing and emitting a fresh-cut grass smell, and him, riding on his lawnmower with his slightly overweight belly bouncing along in accordance to the ground’s unevenness.

It was then that I heard the question.

“What do you want your life to be?”

Let me clarify: It’s not that I had not heard this question never-ever before. It’s that for the first time, I actually heard it. [Allow me a rough comparison. Compare it to a female who has headphones on, plugged into and locked in on the drama unfolding in the most recent episode of Downton Abbey. Any comments, questions, or other verbal utterances are in the background as a comfortable buzz. That is, until someone says, “Michael Buble is at the door, and he said he wants to serenade you over a candlelit dinner.” Suddenly, that is heard.]

The question that had been humming in my head for months, even years, was suddenly running across my mind’s eye as if type-written.

As I watched this paunchy, middle-aged stranger groom his lawn in front of his American Dream house, I recognized that what I saw through my car windows spurred this question to the front of my mind.

Everything a person observes will prompt feelings of agreement, disagreement, or apathy. I can't see that it is anything but normal to either find pleasure, discomfort, or indifference towards things that enter our lives. It is a normal response to things we come in contact with.

What I saw was bringing out those feelings. Pleasure: the smell of fresh cut grass, the idea of being settled and having a family. Discomfort: the image of excess and overweight. Apathy: the American Dream house.

I was processing. Filtering. Choosing. Deciding. Forming.

“What do you want your life to be?”

Don’t let this one slip right past your brain: Life is made up of choices.

Well? Isn’t it?

I choose what I form my life to be. I can choose to find joy in small things like fresh cut grass or holding my husband’s hand; in rich things like walking down memory lane with my sister or having a quiet time in the morning to close my eyes and intimately share and talk to and hear from my awe-inspiring God; in stretching times of character growth or disagreements with my husband or when finances make me swallow hard. I can choose joy over a hurried busyness that produces irritation. I can choose peace over an oppressive worry. I can choose to love over a quick hurtful anger or slow begrudging hatred.

I choose.

But I am not the only participant in this process.

“What do you want your life to be?”

As I drove home, I turned the question over in my head. How long had this been whispered at me? My mind took me back to Colorado, to college, to the camps and places I worked at, to high school, to classes, places, times, even to middle school. It had been whispered in hallways, soccer fields, sleepovers, Sunday morning church service, date nights, GEN ED classes, lunchrooms, football games, Friday nights spent alone in my dorm room, Tuesday night square dance, day trips on days off, bus rides, quiet times to myself in the hay loft, people watching sprees at the mall, outings with friends.

Like a wave, the emotions and pictures of memories past flooded through my mind’s eye. I could see them all. In every frame, I felt the sense of searching. In some I was laughing and smiling. In others I was contemplative or silent. In others I was crying, lost and alone and sad. In all of them, I was searching, and the question was present.

“What do you want your life to be?”

I have always had friends, really great ones. Sweet, godly, creative, wonderful friends. But in all of the memories that went through my mind, I saw that I was observing, mimicking, copying, mirroring, modeling. Choosing. I was picking what I liked and replicating those traits, those fashions and styles, those opinions.

”What do you want YOUR life to be?”

Ohhh.

I was at a red light and nodded my head.

I see.

I sighed and creased my forehead slightly in a frown as I thought about what that emphasized word was asking anew.

Then it changed again.

“WHAT do you want your life to be?”

The light turned green, and I turned with traffic.

So I choose, then, what exactly I want my own life to be. But isn’t that what I had been doing by observing and imitating other people? Filtering for myself what I liked and didn’t? It’s not that observing and imitating those around me was a bad thing. In fact, I’m certain that everything I imitated was because it appealed to me in some way. I certainly didn’t imitate anything I didn’t like. I think. But the point is that I have been searching, even now, for something which I can claim as my own, something self-determined.

It seemed as though I was at a pinnacle point, a point where I had to own me. The only other option, it seemed, was to continue the rest of my life living a replication of what I saw around me. An American Dream chameleon that changed to survive, to fit it, to go unperturbed. A clone. A product.

Fashion. Lifestyle. Personality. Hobbies. Tastes. Recreation. Location. Involvement.

Character.

From the time of self-discovery that seems to emerge around middle school, through high school, through college, through the first years of marriage – it seems as though these have been the vivid times of trying to discover who I am.

Oh no, you’re thinking, not that age-old ism.

But do you know who you are? Or are you only defining yourself by what everyone around you likes?

What do YOU like?

I parked the new [pre-owned] car in front of our brick apartment building. Dan is gone for a few days. JP greeted me at the door with a sleepy meow and followed me around with slowly blinking eyes until I picked him up and scratched him under his chin. After heating up a bowl of leftover homemade chicken noodle soup, I grabbed a blanket and sat on our comfy refurbished couch to eat. I liked this, I knew. My home.

Again, the question.

“What do you want your life to be?”

Well, I thought, I absolutely want it to be what God wants.

So, then, the answer to the question may lie in that.

God desires me to have life abundant, dependence on him, assurance of his love, a personal relationship with Him, actions that share his love to the world, and character growth that reflects who He is.

He created me with a unique preference for certain colors, cuts, and styles; an athleticism accompanied by a good dose of competitive drive; a gift for organization; a cheerful, easy-going personality and a ready smile; a heart that has compassion for those that are wronged; a passion for truth. So many unique Emily-tailored things.

“What do you want your life to be?”

Now I am sitting here with my laptop balanced on my knees, typing, deciding.

Why did I hear the question today? Why is today the pinnacle of the past 20+ years of discovering who I am?

I don’t know. And I am sure that I won’t be able to come up with an exhaustive list of who I am and what I like and what I am precisely meant to be.

 I hesitate to write anything down right now that I don’t know for certain is a definite thing that I like, that is an original me-decided piece of me. But I can say with absolute certainty these things.

I am a child of God. I am loved with a priceless incomprehensible love by God, who knows me intimately. My life is His, and my faith and trust in His Truth will not be shaken.

I like nautical colors – dark navy blue, crisp white, stately red.

I like volleyball, very much.

My favorite color is green. Dark green, somewhere between forest and emerald.

I like classy, feminine clothing choices. Clean lines, delicate touches. Also, comfort.

That is all I know right now, off the top of my head. I don’t know what kind of house I want to live in, or where. I don’t know what wine is my absolute favorite to have with a special meal. I don’t even know how many children I want to have. I’m not even sure how much I even care about the things that I have opinions on regarding style, taste, lifestyle, location, and hobbies. But this is a start. And that’s what matters to me right now. I want this to be a point of moving forward, choosing and formulating for myself, in my mind, who I am as an adult, as a woman, as a child of God.

Mmm. And those are only hitting a very shallow part of the point of this question. I’ve not mentioned the most important thing that is so very weighty on my heart.

Character.

The character to finish a project. To reach a goal. To be consistent in a routine. To have self-control in responses and reactions. To nurture the mind and heart to continue their growth. To grow in selflessness and love. To manage time.

I desire all of these things.

This is what I want my life to be.

In discovering what I like and discovering who I want to be, I have created the mold I want to conform myself [my life] to be.

I am encouraged. I can do this. I can discover what I’ve been seeking for years. God desires this for me. And if God is for me, who can be against me? Not even me and my self-doubts.

Why did I hear this question today?

I’m not sure.

But I did.

And perhaps today is the day when God knew I would have a night alone with no distractions to sit down and discover what I want my life to be.

Take heart. You can too. God is for you and wants you to discover who He has specially created you to be.

And hopefully, the question "What do you want your life to be" can be found in the answer your get from "What does God want your life to be."

xoxo Em