When a woman who had led a "sinful life" heard that Jesus was having dinner in town, she crashed the party. Bold as she was, she did not approach him face-to-face. Instead, she stood behind him as he reclined at the table, tears streaming down her face. Then, forgetting what all the well-to-do people thought, she fell to her knees, kissing his feet, drenching them with her tears and wiping them with her tangled hair. As she took her alabaster jar of costly perfume and anointed the very skin of Christ, I can imagine her thinking:
What a mess I've made of the life you gave me . . . what a mess I am! All I can give you now is this little bit of beauty I've got left: my broken shame-filled heart. I don't care what they think! All I care is what you think, Jesus . . . You. It's me and you here now. Will you wash me? Will you wash off all the dirt and grime and polish me with the oil of you? Will you make me new?
The courage to get real with Jesus is breathtakinginly beautiful. You cannot create this kind of beauty with makeup and stylish clothes. This is the kind that can not be fabricated; it is so authentic, so raw that it makes us uncomfortable . . . it scares us.
Our other main character in this scene, Simon, is absolutely revolted by this woman's poor behavior at his dinner party. He is a Pharisee, who is categorically more interested in having the perfect image than the perfect heart. If Jesus were really a prophet, he thinks, He would know that this woman is a sinner!
Jesus had just finished explaining to these "experts" of religious law that he did not come to save the healthy, but the sick. He didn't come for the perfect! He came for imperfect; he came for her.
If they were such "experts," they should have known 1 Samuel 16:7, which says man looks at the outward appearance, but God looks at the heart. In Matthew 23, Jesus rants and raves against their hypocrisy, calling them "white-washed tombs, which look beautiful on the outside but on the inside are full of dead-man's bones." They wore a perfect mask, hiding ugliness underneath it all. And Jesus could see right through them.
So does he reject her for her brazen behavior? Her past? Her sexual sin? No. He does not look at the outward appearance. He sees her heart -- broken, messy, real, and it is beautiful to him.
Instead of explaining this to Simon outright, he tells him a story about two people with canceled debts, saying that the one with the bigger debt is more grateful than the one with the smaller. This woman had a big debt; she had a lot to be forgiven; she had a large burden, and a lot to be grateful for, like me. But she was real, and the rawness of her love endeared her to him.
The perfect image never did it for Jesus. The image he loved was the one that was crumbling, the one that was humble enough to say, I have not led a perfect life, but I want a perfect forgiveness, a perfect love, and I know that comes from you.
So why are we so afraid to say, "I'm crumbling?" Because everyone will know the perfect image we put off isn't real, and we've identified our worth with the image. But the image is only that -- a replication, an imitation of what's real. The real thing is what you want more than anything to pour out at the feet of Jesus. That's what real is. And He loves real. Fake, he can't do anything with. The truth is, he hates fake.
But messy, crumbling, slobbering, mascara running, hair out of place, “I’ve made a mess of my life and I need you”: that's what really pulls at his heart. In a world obsessed with how things look on the outside, he’s searching for hearts that aren’t afraid to break open and bleed a little … or a lot.
Do you want the perfect image? Then imitate her. Don’t imitate the images of our culture. They are illusions. What is real is everything we see in the woman who led the sinful life: a willingness to say, this is what is underneath the veneer . . . and I’m not afraid to let other people know that. I’m not afraid to pour out my heart, because I know he loves me like this.
“Your sins are forgiven,” he said to her, “Your faith has saved you. Go in peace.”
Monday, November 12, 2007
Come to the Water
In a vacant hostel set amidst the snow-laden Black Forest, I read the Good News Bible for the first time in my life. I have not eaten anything for days, but the thin, tattered pages of this book have become my communion bread, my nourishment.
I am fascinated by these stories of men and women rejected by people and embraced by this guy Jesus. When man disappoints, scorns, judges, rejects; Jesus touches, has compassion on, heals, forgives, loves. There are people the world seems ready to dispose of, who Jesus treats with utmost respect. Their past doesn't bother him; the opinions of people in their community don’t phase him; he sees them through purely loving eyes. And his love frees them to walk in dignity and respect for themselves, no matter where they've been.
When Jesus spoke with the Samaritan woman, he broke every chain that bound her. Jesus went to the well because he was tired and thirsty from a long journey – the very same reason why I finally went to the well.
The Samaritan woman walks up to get some water – not in the morning or in the evening, when it was customary, but in the middle of the day – probably to avoid running into people who knew her reputation.
Jesus asks her for a cup of water.
Stunned that he would even speak to her – Jews and Samaritans hated each other – she questions him, “How can you even ask me for a drink?”
Jesus answers, “If you only knew who it is who asks you for a drink, you would ask me and I would give you living water.”
Then she tries to argue that he doesn’t even have a cup!
But Jesus isn’t moved. “Everyone who drinks this water will be thirsty again," He says, "But whoever drinks the water I give him will never thirst.”
Then it all comes out in the open – she’s been with many men and the man she is with now isn’t her husband.
Why does Jesus tell her about the living water? Why doesn’t he tell this to the demon-possessed man? To the blind, poor, sick, lame? Why her?
Because he knows this woman’s thirst. He knows her hunger. And he knows that he is the only source that can fill it.
He was the source from which she was made, and he is the source from which she needs to drink to get "full." But she has been going from man to man to man to man, looking for fulfillment. And Jesus is saying to her, “Sweetheart, what you need is me. What you need is a well that doesn’t run dry, a love that doesn’t run out, a water that will satisfy.”
She leaves her water jar at the well, goes back to the town and says to the people, “Come, see a man who told me everything I ever did!”
Why does she leave her water jar? Because she realizes that she has found the source of her thirst. A man who knows everything she ever did and does not judge her? Does not ask anything of her? He only offers free fulfillment? She has found what she has been looking for her entire life.
My knees are pressed hard to rocky soil. My head is in my hands. I am weeping. The tears come from the center of that little girl inside of me who had gone into the world searching for love. She is in a heap on the ground, with not a soul in sight.
“Help me,” I cry through broken sobs. “In the name of Jesus Christ, help me God . . . .”
In the snowy, frozen winter of the lightless forest, I feel a growing warmth on the back of my head, and then heat on my hair and neck. I look up. The dark, ominous clouds shift, and the sun beams through an open space.
I have come to the right place. I have come to the well, after a long and tiring journey. And it is a well that doesn't run dry.
Hungry? Thirsty? Unsatisfied? Empty? At bottom? Restless? Disappointed? On rocky ground?
He’s got what will fill you. You just need to ask. If you do not ask, he can not and will not force it down your throat – he loves you too much for that. He is too patient for that. He’s just offering: I am the living water. I am the well that won’t run dry. I can fill you.
And I can wash you clean. Only I can do that, my dear child. Only I can do that.
I am fascinated by these stories of men and women rejected by people and embraced by this guy Jesus. When man disappoints, scorns, judges, rejects; Jesus touches, has compassion on, heals, forgives, loves. There are people the world seems ready to dispose of, who Jesus treats with utmost respect. Their past doesn't bother him; the opinions of people in their community don’t phase him; he sees them through purely loving eyes. And his love frees them to walk in dignity and respect for themselves, no matter where they've been.
When Jesus spoke with the Samaritan woman, he broke every chain that bound her. Jesus went to the well because he was tired and thirsty from a long journey – the very same reason why I finally went to the well.
The Samaritan woman walks up to get some water – not in the morning or in the evening, when it was customary, but in the middle of the day – probably to avoid running into people who knew her reputation.
Jesus asks her for a cup of water.
Stunned that he would even speak to her – Jews and Samaritans hated each other – she questions him, “How can you even ask me for a drink?”
Jesus answers, “If you only knew who it is who asks you for a drink, you would ask me and I would give you living water.”
Then she tries to argue that he doesn’t even have a cup!
But Jesus isn’t moved. “Everyone who drinks this water will be thirsty again," He says, "But whoever drinks the water I give him will never thirst.”
Then it all comes out in the open – she’s been with many men and the man she is with now isn’t her husband.
Why does Jesus tell her about the living water? Why doesn’t he tell this to the demon-possessed man? To the blind, poor, sick, lame? Why her?
Because he knows this woman’s thirst. He knows her hunger. And he knows that he is the only source that can fill it.
He was the source from which she was made, and he is the source from which she needs to drink to get "full." But she has been going from man to man to man to man, looking for fulfillment. And Jesus is saying to her, “Sweetheart, what you need is me. What you need is a well that doesn’t run dry, a love that doesn’t run out, a water that will satisfy.”
She leaves her water jar at the well, goes back to the town and says to the people, “Come, see a man who told me everything I ever did!”
Why does she leave her water jar? Because she realizes that she has found the source of her thirst. A man who knows everything she ever did and does not judge her? Does not ask anything of her? He only offers free fulfillment? She has found what she has been looking for her entire life.
My knees are pressed hard to rocky soil. My head is in my hands. I am weeping. The tears come from the center of that little girl inside of me who had gone into the world searching for love. She is in a heap on the ground, with not a soul in sight.
“Help me,” I cry through broken sobs. “In the name of Jesus Christ, help me God . . . .”
In the snowy, frozen winter of the lightless forest, I feel a growing warmth on the back of my head, and then heat on my hair and neck. I look up. The dark, ominous clouds shift, and the sun beams through an open space.
I have come to the right place. I have come to the well, after a long and tiring journey. And it is a well that doesn't run dry.
Hungry? Thirsty? Unsatisfied? Empty? At bottom? Restless? Disappointed? On rocky ground?
He’s got what will fill you. You just need to ask. If you do not ask, he can not and will not force it down your throat – he loves you too much for that. He is too patient for that. He’s just offering: I am the living water. I am the well that won’t run dry. I can fill you.
And I can wash you clean. Only I can do that, my dear child. Only I can do that.
Tuesday, October 02, 2007
Neither do I condemn you
There was this woman with a big "A" on her chest. No, not Hester Prynne from the Scarlet Letter, but her predecessor. Her name in the Bible is simply "a woman caught in adultery." Maybe she is nameless because that's how she felt the day the teachers of the law and Pharisees brought her to the center of town and made her stand in front of everyone so they could stone her, or at least jeer at her. Maybe that day she felt nameless ... until Jesus stepped in.
As the story goes, the religious leaders tried to trick him into condemning this woman along with them, but Jesus refused. Instead he bent down silently, writing something in the sand with his finger (perhaps a list of their sins?). They kept questioning him, so finally he straightened up and said, "If any of you is without sin, let him be the first to throw a stone at her." At this, they all walked away.
"Woman, where are they?" he asked her. "Has no one condemned you?"
"No one, sir," she replied.
"Then neither do I condemn you," Jesus declared. "Go now and leave your life of sin."
The men had gathered to throw some stones that day. To point the finger and expose her shame. And Jesus certainly could have done the same. But he didn't. He didn't rebuke, criticize, judge, scorn, lecture or remind her of all the bad things she had done. Instead, he exposed their judgement: their shame. And he treated the woman with love and compassion.
Jesus had this compassion for people that is tough to find on earth, even in churches. As humans we feel compassion for children suffering disease, the poor and lame, those who experience a tragic loss. Compassion comes easily for the innocent.
But the guilty? Those who have clearly done wrong? Clearly forsaken their loved ones? Compassion simply is not the natural human response.
We all know people who we wish would change. We wish they would see the consequences of their poor choices. We wish they would see their sin, their shortcomings, their character flaws and fall at God's feet saying, "I'll change!" But this does not happen, so we argue, cry, plead, beg, criticize, scorn, remind them of their shortcomings ... to no avail. Why doesn't this approach work? Because judgment and shame do not bring about lasting change, which can only begin in the heart -- the place where God and man meet one-on-one.
I have been called judgmental before -- and I say that to my own shame. I see people who I love still trapped in the ways that I lived before Christ came into my life and became all that I needed . . . and I feel so helpless to get them out of that slavery to drugs, alcohol, sex, whatever it is that has them in that empty, repetitive cycle. And sometimes I may not throw a stone, but I might shake my head. I don't think I'm better than them; I just feel so frustrated that they do not hand these things over to the only One who can truly turn their lives inside out.
But this is what God is teaching me: Jen, do not judge. It will never bring change. Only love will. Look at the world through my eyes. See the woman with the "A" branded on her chest as I do: as my child, lost and hurting. Hold out your hand to help her up, and if she does not take it, pray for her. Do not lift your hand to throw a stone -- for you too were lost and alone; you too are in need of a Savior.
Who in your life might need less criticism from you and more compassion? Who do you wish would change? Try Jesus' approach: faith that if they only knew how deeply you love them, how much you sympathize with whatever they are facing, they would change ... for good.
As the story goes, the religious leaders tried to trick him into condemning this woman along with them, but Jesus refused. Instead he bent down silently, writing something in the sand with his finger (perhaps a list of their sins?). They kept questioning him, so finally he straightened up and said, "If any of you is without sin, let him be the first to throw a stone at her." At this, they all walked away.
"Woman, where are they?" he asked her. "Has no one condemned you?"
"No one, sir," she replied.
"Then neither do I condemn you," Jesus declared. "Go now and leave your life of sin."
The men had gathered to throw some stones that day. To point the finger and expose her shame. And Jesus certainly could have done the same. But he didn't. He didn't rebuke, criticize, judge, scorn, lecture or remind her of all the bad things she had done. Instead, he exposed their judgement: their shame. And he treated the woman with love and compassion.
Jesus had this compassion for people that is tough to find on earth, even in churches. As humans we feel compassion for children suffering disease, the poor and lame, those who experience a tragic loss. Compassion comes easily for the innocent.
But the guilty? Those who have clearly done wrong? Clearly forsaken their loved ones? Compassion simply is not the natural human response.
We all know people who we wish would change. We wish they would see the consequences of their poor choices. We wish they would see their sin, their shortcomings, their character flaws and fall at God's feet saying, "I'll change!" But this does not happen, so we argue, cry, plead, beg, criticize, scorn, remind them of their shortcomings ... to no avail. Why doesn't this approach work? Because judgment and shame do not bring about lasting change, which can only begin in the heart -- the place where God and man meet one-on-one.
I have been called judgmental before -- and I say that to my own shame. I see people who I love still trapped in the ways that I lived before Christ came into my life and became all that I needed . . . and I feel so helpless to get them out of that slavery to drugs, alcohol, sex, whatever it is that has them in that empty, repetitive cycle. And sometimes I may not throw a stone, but I might shake my head. I don't think I'm better than them; I just feel so frustrated that they do not hand these things over to the only One who can truly turn their lives inside out.
But this is what God is teaching me: Jen, do not judge. It will never bring change. Only love will. Look at the world through my eyes. See the woman with the "A" branded on her chest as I do: as my child, lost and hurting. Hold out your hand to help her up, and if she does not take it, pray for her. Do not lift your hand to throw a stone -- for you too were lost and alone; you too are in need of a Savior.
Who in your life might need less criticism from you and more compassion? Who do you wish would change? Try Jesus' approach: faith that if they only knew how deeply you love them, how much you sympathize with whatever they are facing, they would change ... for good.
Friday, August 24, 2007
Blessed is She
Mary. The mother of God. The Sinless one. The Holy one. The Blessed Virgin. History has painted Mary as perfect. Having a Queen in Heaven who advocates on our behalf has been remarkably helpful for countless women. Since I was not brought up with religion, however, I have only the Scriptures to define what the mother of Jesus was like. Regardless of how history has framed her, the perfect Word reveals she is more like us than we might imagine.
According to Luke, she was a girl from Nazareth and a virgin engaged to be married to a carpenter. Reading her famous Magnificat (Luke 1:46-55) reveals that the history of her people and her God were seared on Mary’s heart. Many have claimed that she was blessed with being the mother of the Messiah because of her purity, reverence and holiness. Certainly she was “highly favored with God,” in the words of the angel Gabriel. But let’s read what Elizabeth, her dear friend, exclaimed upon hearing Mary was pregnant with the Christ: “Blessed is she who …. Remains a virgin forever? Never sins? Never questions God? Memorizes Scripture?” No, Elizabeth cried out some of the most profound words women claim in all of Scripture: “Blessed is she who has believed that what the Lord has said to her will be accomplished!” Blessed is she who has believed.
When the angel Gabriel first approached her, Mary was “greatly troubled.” And when he told her that she would be the mother of the Son of God, she definitely questioned it. “How could this be, for I am a virgin?” She asked.
“Nothing is impossible with God,” the angel told Mary.
Mary answered with the words God must long to hear from all of us: “I am the Lord’s servant,” she responded, “May it be to me as you have said.” And as any woman would do, she hurried to tell a friend. She and Elizabeth excitedly exchanged news, and Mary broke out in her song of praise, “the Magnificat”: “From now on all generations will call me blessed ….”
Unfortunately women over time have felt disconnected from Mary. She has seemed too perfect. We cannot relate to someone who never sinned and whose son never sinned. History’s framing of her as an eternal virgin is just too unrelatable. And yet, the Scriptures reveal that not only did she bear more children, but that she also needed a Savior: “My soul glorifies the Lord and my spirit rejoices in God my Savior,” she said. She was as human and as in need of God as the rest of us. What is different about her, in the angel’s words, is that she was highly favored with God. This is the part that draws me to her, because I – like most of us – want blessing and favor with God.
Like Abraham, Mary’s faith was credited to her as righteousness. It wasn’t that she did everything right – in fact at the wedding at Cana she got on Jesus’ nerves a bit as she attempted to nudge him into public ministry. Later, while the crowds pushed against him, she sent someone in to get him, but he disregarded her call, remaining with the people who needed to hear his teaching most. Nevertheless, she was there outside the door –confused and afraid most likely – but ever faithful.
At Jesus’ baby dedication at the temple, the prophet Simeon turned to Mary and said that Jesus’ life would cause the rise and fall of many, and a sword would pierce her own soul too. At the cross, these words became an ominous foretelling of their fate: before her eyes her son was beaten and crucified by the very people he came to save. The child who had been born in her arms had grown into a man spat upon and despised by so many. Knowing he was God’s one and only Son must have caused her immeasurable sorrow. But when nearly all his disciples had run away in terror, faithful Mary remained at the foot of the cross until he gasped his last breath. Even after Jesus had returned to the Father, she gathered with all the believers in prayer.
The fact that she believed does not mean that she didn’t question, didn’t doubt, didn’t grieve and worry. But the fact that she believed was the source of her blessedness. The good news for us is that Scriptures show no evidence of her perfection, only her faith. 1 Peter 3:5 says the women of the past used to make themselves beautiful by putting their hope in God. To me, this is what makes Mary so beautiful: her hope.
Sometimes I want so badly to do something great. I see the suffering in the world and I want to solve it. But then I remember Mary. She simply opened herself as a vessel of His Spirit. Despite all questions, she believed. She allowed Christ to come inside of her, dwell and grow within her – literally. And from that faith was born the hope of the world.
What are you questioning God about right now? What makes you doubt? What makes you worry? Remember Mary. Open your heart as she opened her womb. Allow God’s plans to grow within you. Trust Him. From your faith great things can come. For it is only in the growth of His Spirit within us that real miracles are born. And through us, yes, God can touch suffering – and heal it.
Blessed is she who has believed.
According to Luke, she was a girl from Nazareth and a virgin engaged to be married to a carpenter. Reading her famous Magnificat (Luke 1:46-55) reveals that the history of her people and her God were seared on Mary’s heart. Many have claimed that she was blessed with being the mother of the Messiah because of her purity, reverence and holiness. Certainly she was “highly favored with God,” in the words of the angel Gabriel. But let’s read what Elizabeth, her dear friend, exclaimed upon hearing Mary was pregnant with the Christ: “Blessed is she who …. Remains a virgin forever? Never sins? Never questions God? Memorizes Scripture?” No, Elizabeth cried out some of the most profound words women claim in all of Scripture: “Blessed is she who has believed that what the Lord has said to her will be accomplished!” Blessed is she who has believed.
When the angel Gabriel first approached her, Mary was “greatly troubled.” And when he told her that she would be the mother of the Son of God, she definitely questioned it. “How could this be, for I am a virgin?” She asked.
“Nothing is impossible with God,” the angel told Mary.
Mary answered with the words God must long to hear from all of us: “I am the Lord’s servant,” she responded, “May it be to me as you have said.” And as any woman would do, she hurried to tell a friend. She and Elizabeth excitedly exchanged news, and Mary broke out in her song of praise, “the Magnificat”: “From now on all generations will call me blessed ….”
Unfortunately women over time have felt disconnected from Mary. She has seemed too perfect. We cannot relate to someone who never sinned and whose son never sinned. History’s framing of her as an eternal virgin is just too unrelatable. And yet, the Scriptures reveal that not only did she bear more children, but that she also needed a Savior: “My soul glorifies the Lord and my spirit rejoices in God my Savior,” she said. She was as human and as in need of God as the rest of us. What is different about her, in the angel’s words, is that she was highly favored with God. This is the part that draws me to her, because I – like most of us – want blessing and favor with God.
Like Abraham, Mary’s faith was credited to her as righteousness. It wasn’t that she did everything right – in fact at the wedding at Cana she got on Jesus’ nerves a bit as she attempted to nudge him into public ministry. Later, while the crowds pushed against him, she sent someone in to get him, but he disregarded her call, remaining with the people who needed to hear his teaching most. Nevertheless, she was there outside the door –confused and afraid most likely – but ever faithful.
At Jesus’ baby dedication at the temple, the prophet Simeon turned to Mary and said that Jesus’ life would cause the rise and fall of many, and a sword would pierce her own soul too. At the cross, these words became an ominous foretelling of their fate: before her eyes her son was beaten and crucified by the very people he came to save. The child who had been born in her arms had grown into a man spat upon and despised by so many. Knowing he was God’s one and only Son must have caused her immeasurable sorrow. But when nearly all his disciples had run away in terror, faithful Mary remained at the foot of the cross until he gasped his last breath. Even after Jesus had returned to the Father, she gathered with all the believers in prayer.
The fact that she believed does not mean that she didn’t question, didn’t doubt, didn’t grieve and worry. But the fact that she believed was the source of her blessedness. The good news for us is that Scriptures show no evidence of her perfection, only her faith. 1 Peter 3:5 says the women of the past used to make themselves beautiful by putting their hope in God. To me, this is what makes Mary so beautiful: her hope.
Sometimes I want so badly to do something great. I see the suffering in the world and I want to solve it. But then I remember Mary. She simply opened herself as a vessel of His Spirit. Despite all questions, she believed. She allowed Christ to come inside of her, dwell and grow within her – literally. And from that faith was born the hope of the world.
What are you questioning God about right now? What makes you doubt? What makes you worry? Remember Mary. Open your heart as she opened her womb. Allow God’s plans to grow within you. Trust Him. From your faith great things can come. For it is only in the growth of His Spirit within us that real miracles are born. And through us, yes, God can touch suffering – and heal it.
Blessed is she who has believed.
Wednesday, August 01, 2007
Unfading Beauty?
The Word teaches that real beauty comes from the inner self. This is great news on days when we feel ugly. In fact, 1 Peter 3:3 (on right) is one of the major reasons I left the modeling industry -- because while everyone else critiqued the outside, God loved the girl within.
While I'm glad my worth in God's eyes is beyond the flesh, this verse also troubles me. Unfading beauty, it reads, is rooted in a "gentle and quiet spirit." That's the problem: I don't have a gentle and quiet spirit. I'm passionate and opinionated. When I'm really mad, I've been known to yell. "Gentle" and "quiet" aren't the first words to describe me!
Some days it seems Botox, hair extensions, a personal trainer, plastic surgery, a new set of clothes and miracle makeup would be easier avenues to beautiful. But this is an endless battle: it's the world's way of chasing an "unfading" physical beauty that is unattainable anyway. While I'm not against looking our best -- in fact I'm all for it -- sometimes focusing on the physical is a serious distraction from dealing with the woman within.
Recently I asked some trusted friends to name the traits of a truly beautiful woman. They answered with words like peace, joy, patience, faithfulness, compassion, love, unselfishness, kindness. We all know women who have a beauty like this: there is a sparkle in their eye that speaks of a deep joy, a deep peace. They overflow with the kind of unselfish love that draws us to them. They may not look like a Revlon model, but they have a beauty that lasts. By knowing them, we are changed and inspired.
Lashing out at someone I love always makes me feel uglier than having my face broken out or flesh bulging from jeans that used to fit. Deep inside, it hurts when a loved one needs me to have a "gentle and quiet" spirit and I have anything but. As 1 Corinthians 4:21 says, we choose how to react: we can come at someone as with a "whip" or in gentleness and love. Obviously love is the better choice, but that doesn't mean we get it right every time.
Here's the good news: the fruit of the Spirit as defined in Galatians 5 lists every attribute my friends described as real beauty. The spirit Paul refers to in 1 Peter 3:3 is not the natural human spirit, but Christ's Spirit in us. What is beautiful to God? A woman who hopes in him. A woman whose heart is open for him to fill it. The more we open ourselves to be filled, the more our character is transformed. The less we are like our selfish humanity and the more we become like Christ, who is radiant with perfect beauty (He 1:3; Ps 50:2).
The other day I was very frustrated with my daughter and felt like lashing out. But something extraordinary happened: I opened my mouth, and loving, kind words flowed from it. Something miraculous takes place when we ask God to give us a beauty that lasts -- we make a ton of mistakes, and then we have moments like this, when his Spirit takes over. We begin to see and enjoy the sweet fruit of his love shining through us.
Finally, we care less and less about looking a certain way and realize that acting a certain way can be much more attractive . . . even when no one is watching.
While I'm glad my worth in God's eyes is beyond the flesh, this verse also troubles me. Unfading beauty, it reads, is rooted in a "gentle and quiet spirit." That's the problem: I don't have a gentle and quiet spirit. I'm passionate and opinionated. When I'm really mad, I've been known to yell. "Gentle" and "quiet" aren't the first words to describe me!
Some days it seems Botox, hair extensions, a personal trainer, plastic surgery, a new set of clothes and miracle makeup would be easier avenues to beautiful. But this is an endless battle: it's the world's way of chasing an "unfading" physical beauty that is unattainable anyway. While I'm not against looking our best -- in fact I'm all for it -- sometimes focusing on the physical is a serious distraction from dealing with the woman within.
Recently I asked some trusted friends to name the traits of a truly beautiful woman. They answered with words like peace, joy, patience, faithfulness, compassion, love, unselfishness, kindness. We all know women who have a beauty like this: there is a sparkle in their eye that speaks of a deep joy, a deep peace. They overflow with the kind of unselfish love that draws us to them. They may not look like a Revlon model, but they have a beauty that lasts. By knowing them, we are changed and inspired.
Lashing out at someone I love always makes me feel uglier than having my face broken out or flesh bulging from jeans that used to fit. Deep inside, it hurts when a loved one needs me to have a "gentle and quiet" spirit and I have anything but. As 1 Corinthians 4:21 says, we choose how to react: we can come at someone as with a "whip" or in gentleness and love. Obviously love is the better choice, but that doesn't mean we get it right every time.
Here's the good news: the fruit of the Spirit as defined in Galatians 5 lists every attribute my friends described as real beauty. The spirit Paul refers to in 1 Peter 3:3 is not the natural human spirit, but Christ's Spirit in us. What is beautiful to God? A woman who hopes in him. A woman whose heart is open for him to fill it. The more we open ourselves to be filled, the more our character is transformed. The less we are like our selfish humanity and the more we become like Christ, who is radiant with perfect beauty (He 1:3; Ps 50:2).
The other day I was very frustrated with my daughter and felt like lashing out. But something extraordinary happened: I opened my mouth, and loving, kind words flowed from it. Something miraculous takes place when we ask God to give us a beauty that lasts -- we make a ton of mistakes, and then we have moments like this, when his Spirit takes over. We begin to see and enjoy the sweet fruit of his love shining through us.
Finally, we care less and less about looking a certain way and realize that acting a certain way can be much more attractive . . . even when no one is watching.
Friday, June 01, 2007
How Beautiful
My feet have never been my best feature. Let's just say no one has ever called them remotely attractive. But like God does with so many things the world calls ugly, God says they are beautiful. Yes, he says my long, dry feet with their gnarled toes are beautiful. How sweet of Him.
Isaiah 52:7 says, "How beautiful on the mountains are the feet of those who bring good news, who proclaim peace, who bring good tidings, who proclaim salvation ...." This verse reminds me of the precious people who introduced me to Christ. They were strangers in a foreign land. They had no idea who I was, what I'd been through or what I needed. And yet, they opened their mouths and spoke. They opened the doors of their church and invited me in. They opened their hearts and offered food when I was hungry and the Word to satisfy the cravings of my soul. They brought good news and good tidings; they proclaimed peace and salvation. Their faith became action, and that changed the direction of my life ... on earth, and for eternity.
Ephesians 6:15 says our feet must be fitted with the readiness that comes from the gospel of peace. In other words, we need to be ready to step forward in faith. We need to ask God to give us eyes to see those who are hurting and lost, and ears to hear when he is asking us to speak, and when he'd rather we be silent. The gospel comes with a readiness: every day, our world is filled with bad news. People still need to hear the good news!
The good news is that Jesus died to set us free from our sins, our pasts, and from the endless demands of the world. The good news is that through faith in Christ, we can know God and walk with him now and forever.
But don't stress about it. It's not about us. It is not we who change lives; it is Him through us. All we have to do is be open vessels through which He can work. Are you open? Are you open to the great adventure of being a vessel for God? I'll tell you, if you are ... how beautiful are your feet. How beautiful are you!
Isaiah 52:7 says, "How beautiful on the mountains are the feet of those who bring good news, who proclaim peace, who bring good tidings, who proclaim salvation ...." This verse reminds me of the precious people who introduced me to Christ. They were strangers in a foreign land. They had no idea who I was, what I'd been through or what I needed. And yet, they opened their mouths and spoke. They opened the doors of their church and invited me in. They opened their hearts and offered food when I was hungry and the Word to satisfy the cravings of my soul. They brought good news and good tidings; they proclaimed peace and salvation. Their faith became action, and that changed the direction of my life ... on earth, and for eternity.
Ephesians 6:15 says our feet must be fitted with the readiness that comes from the gospel of peace. In other words, we need to be ready to step forward in faith. We need to ask God to give us eyes to see those who are hurting and lost, and ears to hear when he is asking us to speak, and when he'd rather we be silent. The gospel comes with a readiness: every day, our world is filled with bad news. People still need to hear the good news!
The good news is that Jesus died to set us free from our sins, our pasts, and from the endless demands of the world. The good news is that through faith in Christ, we can know God and walk with him now and forever.
But don't stress about it. It's not about us. It is not we who change lives; it is Him through us. All we have to do is be open vessels through which He can work. Are you open? Are you open to the great adventure of being a vessel for God? I'll tell you, if you are ... how beautiful are your feet. How beautiful are you!
Tuesday, April 10, 2007
An Unveiled Face
What do you look like without makeup? If you are a man, you would say -- what you see is what you get! But if you are a woman, you may feel a bit squeamish, insecure even. Having spent years working in the modeling industry, I always felt that I was "not good enough" bare-faced. On jobs, makeup artists dramatically transformed my face with the exacting strokes of their brushes. After a few hours in the makeup (and hair) chair, then, I was "camera-ready." If someone told me we were going to take pictures with no makeup on at all, I would turn my back!
In the Old Testament, Moses put a veil over his face to mask the intense radiance that came from having met with God. The veil kept people from being terrified from the brightness of his face, and represented the veiling of the people's minds to understanding the ways of God. But in 2 Corinthians 3:16-18, Paul explains that when we put our faith in Christ, God removes the veil. We become free to fully "see" and understand the Scriptures, and free to be ourselves before the Lord. We are completely unmasked.
In the modeling world, beauty is manufactured through covering up, but in God's world, real beauty comes from laying it all out. The more our weaknesses show, the more He reveals His strength. If we let Him, God literally takes off our masks, and we become unable to pretend all is perfect beneath the veneer. Sometimes what he reveals underneath the mask is not pretty at all -- there are fears, insecurities, bitterness and anger that have festered for far too long. But this is where the great love of God comes in: if we let Him shine His light into the dark places within us, Christ's blood washes over our imperfections and sins, and gives us the power to be fully human, fully flawed, yet beautiful at the same time.
As we look to Him with unveiled hearts and unveiled faces, He begins to transform us from the inside out. We begin to reflect a glory not our own. And the more He fills us -- through prayer and time in His Word, the more we naturally radiate His love to the people in our midst.
No matter what you are facing today, you can be the radiant face of Christ in someone's life. Let His light shine through you. You never know how the Spirit may touch someone else and change them for eternity. Now that's what I call beautiful.
In the Old Testament, Moses put a veil over his face to mask the intense radiance that came from having met with God. The veil kept people from being terrified from the brightness of his face, and represented the veiling of the people's minds to understanding the ways of God. But in 2 Corinthians 3:16-18, Paul explains that when we put our faith in Christ, God removes the veil. We become free to fully "see" and understand the Scriptures, and free to be ourselves before the Lord. We are completely unmasked.
In the modeling world, beauty is manufactured through covering up, but in God's world, real beauty comes from laying it all out. The more our weaknesses show, the more He reveals His strength. If we let Him, God literally takes off our masks, and we become unable to pretend all is perfect beneath the veneer. Sometimes what he reveals underneath the mask is not pretty at all -- there are fears, insecurities, bitterness and anger that have festered for far too long. But this is where the great love of God comes in: if we let Him shine His light into the dark places within us, Christ's blood washes over our imperfections and sins, and gives us the power to be fully human, fully flawed, yet beautiful at the same time.
As we look to Him with unveiled hearts and unveiled faces, He begins to transform us from the inside out. We begin to reflect a glory not our own. And the more He fills us -- through prayer and time in His Word, the more we naturally radiate His love to the people in our midst.
No matter what you are facing today, you can be the radiant face of Christ in someone's life. Let His light shine through you. You never know how the Spirit may touch someone else and change them for eternity. Now that's what I call beautiful.
Thursday, March 15, 2007
Seasons of Change
Since our family has moved to the mountains, I have been struck by the power of seasonal change. We have seen the sky turn from brilliant blue to hazy gray, the clouds from white cotton to black coal. The shifting seasons have delighted us, kept us inside and drawn us out. Their power has dictated how we spend our days and the very tone of our nights. I have fallen asleep to the soft drumming of rain landing and sliding down the roof; been jarred awake by the sound of angry clouds crackling and spitting; and woken in the morning to the still and mysterious whisper of snow gently piling on our doorstep.
I sit up in bed and see the sweetest sight: the towering pines are laced with a fine white powder; the once brown, irregular soil is now carpeted in a pure, white blanket. The children run to the window and squeal, It snowed, Mommy! Daddy, it snowed! As they crawl in bed to cuddle, I am reminded, His compassions are new every morning. It is so refreshing to know the mercy of God. Each day, as the world around us is made new, so are we.
And yet, the chill of winter does take its toll. The warm sun returns, the snow melts, and the roads become muddy and wet. The streets are cleared, but over time they become lined with dingy, brown piles. The pure white highlights disappear from the trees. It is cold, wet and drippy. No one wants to go outside.
So it is with our souls. We go through seasons -- of joy, celebration, excitement and adventure -- and then longing, dissatisfaction and fear. Past resentments or bitterness threaten to steal our joy once again. The storm clouds of jealousy, greed, disappointment or doubt loom over us; we cannot seem to escape them. These hurts need to purge themselves -- sometimes we need to weep, pray, talk to a trusted friend, confess, repent, or simply rest -- so that the winter clouds within us are released and we ourselves are cleansed.
What we cannot imagine in the midst of the storm is what it's going to look like when it’s over. When the sky thunders and the world darkens, we cannot imagine the pure snow that will follow; further we cannot envision the new blooms of spring. But be assured my friend, spring is around the corner. Faith is believing that the sunshine will return even when we cannot see it; faith is trusting that light will bask the world again in glory . . . that light will shine again in our hearts as well.
There is a time and a season for everything: a time to experience the winter of our souls, and a time for spring to come again. As the world is made new each season, the Word promises that we too, through faith in Christ, are made new. If we have the faith to ask, God will gladly give us a new heart and a new song within it. As the restorer of our souls, He shines His light on the dirty piles of hurt, mistakes and failures within us, melts them away, and floods us with clean, pure water – forgiveness, renewal and hope for the future.
May this spring be one of "newness" for you, whether it be a new child in your life, a new faith, a new adventure. Whatever season you are experiencing right now, remember it is only a season. It too shall pass. And what is around the corner, if you keep your eyes on the Son, will draw you closer to Him than the season prior.Spend quiet time alone with God this season. He will surely water your soul, flood it with light and bring about the new blooms of spring.
I sit up in bed and see the sweetest sight: the towering pines are laced with a fine white powder; the once brown, irregular soil is now carpeted in a pure, white blanket. The children run to the window and squeal, It snowed, Mommy! Daddy, it snowed! As they crawl in bed to cuddle, I am reminded, His compassions are new every morning. It is so refreshing to know the mercy of God. Each day, as the world around us is made new, so are we.
And yet, the chill of winter does take its toll. The warm sun returns, the snow melts, and the roads become muddy and wet. The streets are cleared, but over time they become lined with dingy, brown piles. The pure white highlights disappear from the trees. It is cold, wet and drippy. No one wants to go outside.
So it is with our souls. We go through seasons -- of joy, celebration, excitement and adventure -- and then longing, dissatisfaction and fear. Past resentments or bitterness threaten to steal our joy once again. The storm clouds of jealousy, greed, disappointment or doubt loom over us; we cannot seem to escape them. These hurts need to purge themselves -- sometimes we need to weep, pray, talk to a trusted friend, confess, repent, or simply rest -- so that the winter clouds within us are released and we ourselves are cleansed.
What we cannot imagine in the midst of the storm is what it's going to look like when it’s over. When the sky thunders and the world darkens, we cannot imagine the pure snow that will follow; further we cannot envision the new blooms of spring. But be assured my friend, spring is around the corner. Faith is believing that the sunshine will return even when we cannot see it; faith is trusting that light will bask the world again in glory . . . that light will shine again in our hearts as well.
There is a time and a season for everything: a time to experience the winter of our souls, and a time for spring to come again. As the world is made new each season, the Word promises that we too, through faith in Christ, are made new. If we have the faith to ask, God will gladly give us a new heart and a new song within it. As the restorer of our souls, He shines His light on the dirty piles of hurt, mistakes and failures within us, melts them away, and floods us with clean, pure water – forgiveness, renewal and hope for the future.
May this spring be one of "newness" for you, whether it be a new child in your life, a new faith, a new adventure. Whatever season you are experiencing right now, remember it is only a season. It too shall pass. And what is around the corner, if you keep your eyes on the Son, will draw you closer to Him than the season prior.Spend quiet time alone with God this season. He will surely water your soul, flood it with light and bring about the new blooms of spring.
Wednesday, February 07, 2007
Beauty Beyond the Mirror
The other day I went to an esthetician to ask what could be done about this sudden breakout on my forehead, cheeks and chin. What is this horrible mess?? I asked her. Hormones? Stress? Allergies? What can you do about it? Laser? Peels? Treatments? She looked me straight in the eye and said, “Honey, what you need to do is stop looking in the mirror.” Stop looking at all that is “wrong” with you. Stop worrying about it. Stop focusing on it. Her recommendation? Spend quiet moments in reflection; spend time doing what you love. And don’t look in the mirror. This seemed an odd thing for someone in a dermatologist office to say.
Of course I wanted her to give me a quick fix – a pill, a peel, a prescription (I’m not sure why – I’d already tried all that, and none of it worked!). What I didn’t realize at the time is that she gave me the greatest prescription of all: a fast from the mirror. Permission to enjoy my life despite the imperfections. What she couldn’t have known is that it would transform me completely.
In the last forty days, I have gotten ready for the day, then avoided the mirror at all costs. I’ve had to adjust the rear view mirror in my car because I realized it was angled just so I could take quick glances at my forehead – worrying about how I looked to people that day. I’ve realized how much I glance at my reflection in windows, that I even look past people to do a “quick check.” As horrible as it may sound, I’ve had to retrain myself to stop looking at me, and focus more on the world around me and people in my midst.
Instead of looking in the mirror in the morning, I’ve looked into the Word. Instead of bowing my head in shame that I do not measure up to my own expectations, I’ve bowed my head in prayer. During the day, I’ve let the house go, I’ve let my hair go, and I’ve gotten down and laughed and played with my kids; at night, I’ve crawled into bed to snuggle with my husband rather than agonize over my ever-changing reflection in the mirror. And whenever possible, I’ve taken long walks with God, marveling over His creation. Patiently and lovingly, he has helped me take off that heavy cloak of always making sure I look okay, and has reminded me of how I look to Him above all else.
In the majesty of His creation, I have seen a new reflection. Like every tree, lake, mountain, and flower He’s made, we are each beautiful and unique by design. Every detail in us – even that which we may see as a “flaw” – has a purpose that we may or may not ever realize. He made us with painstaking love, precision and care; we are his hand-made treasures, his handiwork, his poetry in a world that desperately needs to see the beauty of God. When we get this, our identity rests not in what constantly changes – like the mirror – but instead in that which never changes: His love.
In the reflection of His Word, He has shown me that when my face is a mess and life is a mess and house is a mess, I am no less beautiful and valuable to Him than I am on a good hair day! We see this in Luke 7, when one of my favorite women of the Bible comes bawling at Jesus’ feet in front of a bunch of proud Pharisees. She is so hysterical and weighed down by her failings that she uses her hair to mop up the tears that she sheds on Jesus’ feet. While all the Pharisees shun her poor behavior, Jesus tells them in essence: I love this mess! I love this woman just as she is right now! (Go, Jesus!) He forgives her, blesses her with peace, and sets her free. We are not our imperfections. We are not our sins. We are not our failings, and we are not our flaws. We are His creations. His beloved. His daughters. Free to walk in His love, regardless of what we look like and what we feel like at this moment in time. And nothing can ever take that away from us.
Ever since I was a little girl, I have always felt that I had to be as beautiful as the women in magazines . . . and I have never seemed to be able to measure up to the world’s expectations. Having acne in my thirties has forced me to turn away from that destructive perfectionism, to come to grips with the fact that I will never be perfect and neither will anything in the world, save His love. Through this trial, God has broken my pride, humbled me, and ultimately drawn me to cling to Him for my identity. He has become the source of my beauty. He has become the source of my strength. He has given me a beauty of the heart: a ready laugh, a hope for the future. A beauty that grows stronger, not weaker, with time.
Oh, and by the way, after forty days of not looking in the mirror, I allowed myself to linger there a little longer last night – and all I saw was my eyes. They were sparkling. I looked younger, happier . . . there was a light there that has been unearthed once again. People keep telling me how much better my skin looks. I wouldn’t know. I assume it’s His love shining through me. It must some kind of . . . beauty beyond the mirror.
Of course I wanted her to give me a quick fix – a pill, a peel, a prescription (I’m not sure why – I’d already tried all that, and none of it worked!). What I didn’t realize at the time is that she gave me the greatest prescription of all: a fast from the mirror. Permission to enjoy my life despite the imperfections. What she couldn’t have known is that it would transform me completely.
In the last forty days, I have gotten ready for the day, then avoided the mirror at all costs. I’ve had to adjust the rear view mirror in my car because I realized it was angled just so I could take quick glances at my forehead – worrying about how I looked to people that day. I’ve realized how much I glance at my reflection in windows, that I even look past people to do a “quick check.” As horrible as it may sound, I’ve had to retrain myself to stop looking at me, and focus more on the world around me and people in my midst.
Instead of looking in the mirror in the morning, I’ve looked into the Word. Instead of bowing my head in shame that I do not measure up to my own expectations, I’ve bowed my head in prayer. During the day, I’ve let the house go, I’ve let my hair go, and I’ve gotten down and laughed and played with my kids; at night, I’ve crawled into bed to snuggle with my husband rather than agonize over my ever-changing reflection in the mirror. And whenever possible, I’ve taken long walks with God, marveling over His creation. Patiently and lovingly, he has helped me take off that heavy cloak of always making sure I look okay, and has reminded me of how I look to Him above all else.
In the majesty of His creation, I have seen a new reflection. Like every tree, lake, mountain, and flower He’s made, we are each beautiful and unique by design. Every detail in us – even that which we may see as a “flaw” – has a purpose that we may or may not ever realize. He made us with painstaking love, precision and care; we are his hand-made treasures, his handiwork, his poetry in a world that desperately needs to see the beauty of God. When we get this, our identity rests not in what constantly changes – like the mirror – but instead in that which never changes: His love.
In the reflection of His Word, He has shown me that when my face is a mess and life is a mess and house is a mess, I am no less beautiful and valuable to Him than I am on a good hair day! We see this in Luke 7, when one of my favorite women of the Bible comes bawling at Jesus’ feet in front of a bunch of proud Pharisees. She is so hysterical and weighed down by her failings that she uses her hair to mop up the tears that she sheds on Jesus’ feet. While all the Pharisees shun her poor behavior, Jesus tells them in essence: I love this mess! I love this woman just as she is right now! (Go, Jesus!) He forgives her, blesses her with peace, and sets her free. We are not our imperfections. We are not our sins. We are not our failings, and we are not our flaws. We are His creations. His beloved. His daughters. Free to walk in His love, regardless of what we look like and what we feel like at this moment in time. And nothing can ever take that away from us.
Ever since I was a little girl, I have always felt that I had to be as beautiful as the women in magazines . . . and I have never seemed to be able to measure up to the world’s expectations. Having acne in my thirties has forced me to turn away from that destructive perfectionism, to come to grips with the fact that I will never be perfect and neither will anything in the world, save His love. Through this trial, God has broken my pride, humbled me, and ultimately drawn me to cling to Him for my identity. He has become the source of my beauty. He has become the source of my strength. He has given me a beauty of the heart: a ready laugh, a hope for the future. A beauty that grows stronger, not weaker, with time.
Oh, and by the way, after forty days of not looking in the mirror, I allowed myself to linger there a little longer last night – and all I saw was my eyes. They were sparkling. I looked younger, happier . . . there was a light there that has been unearthed once again. People keep telling me how much better my skin looks. I wouldn’t know. I assume it’s His love shining through me. It must some kind of . . . beauty beyond the mirror.
Thursday, February 01, 2007
Here we go!
Well, I'm excited to say that my new website is up and running! On it, you can find out all kinds of information about my speaking, writing, testimony, and my newest addition -- the beginning of an online store. It still has a ways to go, but I am very excited to be starting a line of inspirational greeting cards to pass on my message of beauty in God's sight to women all over the world. Now that the site has plenty of info on me and what I do, I can't wait to put more and more content about God and what He does. After all, that's the point -- shining for Christ, sharing His love and His ways with a world that so dearly needs them. Thank you for being a part of what I'm doing -- I'll keep updating as new events and insights come my way. Best to you! Jen (click here to go to my site!)
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