Wait, Carole got a tattoo?
Yeah, I never thought I’d be saying those words either, but believe me when I say, there’s a story behind it. Now, it’s a long story, but a story worth telling, is worth telling it right.
So without further ado . . .
About half way through training camp, we were sent off to, crazily enough, another camp site. We were allowed to take just about nothing with us and we had to be completely ready about twenty minutes after we found out about it. So naturally, being completely exhausted, I was chipper throughout the entire exercise and moved with speedy efficiency.
. . . not so much.
But regardless, we made it to the camp site with the supplies that had been provided for us, and a couple of hours later our fire we stood and sat around a dying fire with our stomachs full of dinner and our beds all set up a couple feet away as a couple of our squad mates led us in some campfire worship.
A few songs in, a kind of stillness settled upon us as we took time to meditate and glorify our Creator and all that He’d done for us. There was a fullness to the air and a light soreness to our bodies as the weight of another full day settled in.
As we sang, one of my sisters, standing near me took a few slow step closer to the dying embers of our fire, hands raised in worship, but head bent. As another step brought her a little too close to the fire for comfort, I noticed she was shaking as silent sobs ran though her body.
One by one, each person in our circle came to gather around that one girl, laying hands on her and offering her a lot of wordless comfort and a few verbal words of encouragement. Then as one girl started praying, nineteen other voices joined in, calling out to our father with the authority that can only be wielded and possessed by an heir; one who is certain of her inheritance. The power felt in that moment was enough to resound in my gut, taking my breath away.
All things that were not of our father were cast out of our circle, no longer allowed to stand in the presence of a holy God.
Then one girl stepped up to our sister in the middle, took her face in her hands and looking into her eyes said, “I choose you and I am going to fight for you.”
On paper or online, those may just seem like words, but when they’re spoken so directly to you, they have their own kind of power; their own surety, like a promise. It was enough to trigger a chain reaction, all of us turning to the girl next to us and declaring those words over her; not just a promise, but a seal.
Then one of our squad leaders who was staying the night in case of emergencies, told us to take a look at the fire. When we’d started praying, it was nothing but ashes, but when we looked at it again, there were flames leaping up where there had once just been dying heat. She told us to remember this moment as a milestone, like the Israelites in the Old Testament when God gave them a miracle.
This was the start of our ministry.
This was a reminder of what God can do through us when we work together in unity.
Well, fast forward twenty four hours and we’re back at camp, still exhausted, and in a worship session, but I still couldn’t get that image of the fire out of my head.
But that was the moment God chose to ask me, “what if you got a tattoo?”
“Um . . . what?”
“What if you got a tattoo? One of fire to commemorate last night and all that it meant?”
It was about that time that I started listing out all of the reasons why, several of them pretty darn good reasons to my way of thinking. I had nothing against tattoos in general, but had never thought to get one for myself. But a moment later, I had a mental picture of what and where this fire tattoo should be on my skin. Still, I wasn’t about to run off to find the nearest tattoo parlor.
But God was persistent, continually bringing up the question over the next several days of training camp and even after. He never made me feel like I was being forced into a corner, but rather that I’d said yes to him already on several occasions and this was just one more step forward into his love and fullness for me.
It would be a reminder of the family I’d found in my sisters, the unity we have together, a monument of the start of our ministry together, and an act of sacrifice and worship on my part to my Father since I didn’t really want to do it.
And perhaps most importantly, the culture around tattoos in our society allows anyone to come up to you on the street and ask for the meaning behind it. No longer would I be a Christian only when I feel like it, but at any moment I may be called upon to preach the Gospel as it has worked in my life.
So a few weeks later, once I’d thought and prayed it through, once I’d read Acts 15 several times, reveling in the freedom given to all followers of Christ as long as they abstain from things consecrated to idols, strangled animals, drinking blood, and sexual immorality.
In short, that means in Christ, I can eat pepperoni on my pizza, my dad can shave his beard, and yes, I can even get a tattoo!
I’ll be honest, it was a relief to read this passage for myself. I knew tattoos weren’t against the Bible, but to see it for myself and to grasp what it meant was such a beautiful weight off of my chest.
After that, I went to the consultation (and almost hurled), and then a few days later, I got my tattoo! It is exactly what came into my head that night during worship; a ring of fire around my left arm. It’s still crazy to me that I did that, but slowly, it’s settling in. I know that something so permanent will serve as a reminder for several lessons God has to teach me, both now and in the future.
Well, that’s all for now. Launch is only a couple of weeks away and then the real adventure starts.
See you soon!
