This month I decided to not wear makeup. I knew it was something that needed to happen before I even went on the race but I planned on doing it in, you know, month 8 or 9. I definitely didn’t think it would be month 2. But God kept placing it on my heart so I realized it was time. [I always want to argue with God when he places stuff like this on my heart, but my track record has proven that arguing doesn’t get me very far] So one month with 21 girls was the month that God had planned. Perfect. I would love to not wear make up around so many girls.
Here is where the rawness comes in: For the first 2 and ½ weeks, I cringed every time I glanced in the mirror [which luckily are not very common here on the Race] or walked by my reflection in a store window. My poor teammates had to hear me complain about my beady little eyes for days on end. Every time I looked in the mirror I couldn’t believe the girl looking back was actually me. I didn’t recognize her. Why might you ask? Because I’ve never taken the time to see myself without makeup for any longer than a day, at most. I always have some make up on. Foundation, mascara, just something.
But for the first time this past weekend, I saw my reflection and didn’t cringe. I had to do a double take because it caught me off guard. I actually caught a glimpse of myself in the way that God sees me and created me to be in the rawest and purest form.
It’s weird. It seems like a concept I should have grasped a long time ago. But I’ve covered myself up for so long that I’ve never seen who I am without it. So how could I be comfortable with someone I’ve never taken the time to look at?
Here’s the kicker..as I was verbally processing this the other night with my dear friend and team leader I realized something else: I’ve never seen my heart in it’s truest fashion either. I’ve never truly seen myself as a beautiful and worthy daughter of the most high King. Sure, I’ve had glimpses of it here and there but I’ve always chosen to put something in place of it and to view myself as something else. I’ve chosen to believe the lies that I’ve let Satan pound into my mind for years.
Letting the truth flood in and the lies flood out is going to be a process, but bring it on because letting Jesus fill me up feels so much better than the crap that I’ve held onto for so long. So here’s to loving the girl who looks back at me in the mirror, make up or no make up, and knowing that she’s created in the image of God, which is really all that matters anyways.
