I can be really self-conscious about my looks. But you know, you probably wouldn’t guess that with a quick glance my way. I can honestly count on one hand (if not one finger) how many times I’ve worn any amount of make-up in the past month. I don’t get manicures or pedicures. I only get my haircut when absolutely necessary because I’m concerned my spikes are blocking the view of people who happen to sit behind me. I tend to spend most of my days in yoga or work out pants paired with a comfy sweatshirt. Yet, how I look from this or that angle will and does cross my mind more frequently than I care to admit.
As a 24-year old, there are definitely certain “standards” of how someone should look and dress and that likely remains true for most ages. In my second and third year of college, I spent an embarrassing amount of time trying to get a coveted six-pack and had some pretty solid abdominal muscles because of it. I also happened to be ridiculously proud of my “runners legs” as I had completed my first half marathon in spring 2013 and planned to run a marathon later that summer.
While not biblical, I’m convinced God has a sense of humor. Thanks to a spinal cord injury, my legs haven’t moved under voluntary control for three years. Those once well-defined and rock-hard calves seem to have taken appearance advice from a wet noodle. When it comes to my completely useless abdominal muscles, I’m grateful for buttoned jeans that at least keep things (meaning my stomach) in the right place.
I think it’s easy to pick out flaws and imperfections when we look at ourselves in the mirror, at least I know it is for me. That’s a new wrinkle. Look at that, first gray hair. If I pull it out, at least I can fake bypass this aging process for a little while. I sure hope I’m not the only person that has ever thought or done that…
When I look at myself, I don’t see perfection. When God looks at me… He does. Thanks to his Son and my Savior, I am perfect. My “flaws,” physical and otherwise melt away into a robe of righteousness that no person, no injury, no health problem, no struggle could ever take away.
It’s not always easy to remember but we all are fearfully and wonderfully made children of an awesome Father. A Father who knows the number of hairs on our heads and loves each and every part of this body HE created.
And really, I have every reason to feel the exact same way.