Ken and Barbie

 In today's culture, we point to photo shopped models plastered on billboards and declare that is what beauty is. We are told that if you don't live up to that certain standard of perfection, you are not beautiful. We are taught that beauty is defined by our size, by the numbers on the scale. Sounds ludicrous, right? But tell yourself a lie long enough and before you know it, it becomes the truth. Eventually the lie starts to creep into your life and bit by bit, begins to destroy you. But it doesn't stop there. It won't be satisfied until it kills you. Statistically speaking, 20% of girls and women who struggle with anorexia will go on to die prematurely from it. We are being brain washed with a lie. Just like Eve, we ate the lie. Also like Eve when she ate the forbidden fruit, the lie is killing slowly but surely killing us.

    Something I can't stress enough is how much power words have—even if you're “just joking.” I remember times when people would jokingly say I was fat. It didn't help that I already didn't feel good enough, I didn't feel like I lived up to the culture's harsh standard of perfection. I thought I had to look a certain way, be a certain size, be a certain height in order to be accepted. It didn't help that I already struggled with insecurities and their teasing words only added to the mountain of self-image issues. People don't understand how much power words have. It was because of their words that I almost developed an eating disorder because I didn't think I was “good enough” (whatever that means). I remember how I would weight myself so, so much and try to watch my calorie intake. Those of you who know me well are probably really surprised by that part of me you didn't know. It's not something I'm proud of, but it's the truth. Never underestimate the power of words.

     Even these days, I sometimes still struggle with believing it when someone tells me I'm beautiful. I am tempted to believe this warped truth that if I'm not perfect, then I'm not beautiful. The culture and media has successfully sold a lie disguised as the truth and we have hungrily devoured it up. When I was talking to Nick about beauty the other day and how I didn't feel like I lived up to the standard of life sized Barbie dolls, he replied, “Ahh, Anna, but you're looking at beauty with your eyes. You have to look with your heart.” Beauty in it's truest definition is not something we can merely see with we eyes. It is something we see with we hearts. “I think,” Nick told me, “the definition of beautiful is something that makes the world a better place.” Like Nick went on to say, the world has corrupted the definition of beauty. We get fake tans, fake hair, fake nails, and call that beauty.

     Maybe. Just maybe beauty is more than that.

     I beg to offer that beauty is authenticity.

     It's not just enough to get recognize the lie and get rid of it, though that's a good starting place. You must replace lies with truth.

    Fact: Your beauty is not defined by what you see in the mirror.

    Fact: you are beautiful.

    Fact: Your beauty is not defined by the numbers on the scale.

    Fact: You are beautiful. 

    Fact: Your beauty is not measured by lies from your past.

    Fact: You are beautiful.Nothing can change that.So own it.

My Alter

Sometimes I feel like I am suffocating in the doubts and questions of the future, the unknown. Sometimes I just wish I could shut my brain off and stop thinking. Sometimes I hate thinking because when I think, I start to sink. Sometimes I cling onto things and people, afraid to let go, because I am afraid of what will happen if I do.

I struggle.

I fall.

I doubt God.

But I am learning.

I am learning that I must hold everything in an open palm.

But I know that I am not the first who has struggled with surrendering everything to God.  

So I crack open my Bible to read Genesis 22 where God tells Abraham to surrender his son on the alter.

God says, “Take your Son.”

As if that's not enough, he says, “Your only Son.”

Then if that's not enough, he adds, “Whom you love.”

And what does he say next?

“Sacrifice him.”

Abraham...take your Son. Your only Son. Whom you love. And offer him as a burnt offering.

If you don't understand the significance of this, let me rewind.

God promised Abraham that he would have a son.

He promised Abraham that his descendants would be a numerous as the stars.

Isaac was Abraham's dream. He was the fulfillment of the promise. He was the answer to Abraham's prayers.

And now...God was asking him to give up his dream.

God was telling Abraham to lay his dream, his answer to prayer, his only Son whom he loved on the alter.

What does Abraham do? Early the next morning, he gets up, packs his donkey, grabs his son, and they're off. It's easy for us to read this story because we know how it ends. We know that God's angel steps in at the last minute and tells Abraham to lay down his sword, but you have to realize that Abraham didn't know that.

I can't help but wonder what was running through his mind as he journeyed with his son. I wonder what he was thinking when he raised his knife to kill Isaac. His only son. Whom he loved. Imagine the relief he felt when the angel commands him to put down his weapon.

Unlike Abraham, sometimes I told my “Isaac” with a clenched fist. I'm afraid to give it to God and lay it on the alter because I am afraid that God will take it away. I know that God is a loving Father who only wants what is best for me, yet I still struggle to trust him completely. So I hold on to my Isaac, unwilling to lay my doubts and questions on the alter. Unwilling to trust. Because sometimes faith feels a lot like falling. Instead of trusting God with the future, I stress and worry about it. And then the unknown because an Isaac and God tells me I must lay it on the alter. I must surrender my Isaac.

Despite how uncomfortable and awkward it feels, I slowly gather the stones required to build an alter. Stone by stone, the alter takes shape. Then I heap my worries, my questions, my fears, my doubts on the alter.

Today I am laying my Isaac on the alter.

I am jumping into the unknown simply because God promise He will catch me.

I am trusting the One who holds the future instead of trying to figure it out.

Because, like Abraham, I want Jesus more than I want my Isaac.

Because I love Jesus more than I love my Isaac.

My Jesus. My only Jesus. Whom I love.