I had toed the line for months. Entertained the idea for far too long. The time had come. You know that moment when it’s time to stop talking and just start doing? That moment had arrived. No looking back. No regrets. YOLO, right? I made the call, set up the appointment and endured the sleepless nights of anticipation that stood between me and d-day. When it finally arrived, I snapped a quick selfie to commemorate and walked in to the home of a sweet friend, facing my fear and my fate. After about an hour, I stepped into the crisp sunlight… with bangs. And my life would never be the same.
It was a big decision. Hair decisions are big decisions. Can I get an amen?!?! (Thank you ladies.)
Gentlemen, yes, I’m about to spiritualize my bangs. It’s fine.
So there’s this boy…
I know what you’re thinking. “Spare me. Is this some mushy love story about falling in love and living happily ever after?” Well, not hardly. Let me save you the trouble, there’s no happy ending. Not yet anyways. And as much as I’d like to say I’ve figured this one out, let me stick with what I know, the lessons I’ve learned through trying.
Almost nine years ago, I started as a freshman in college. I have severe anxiety when I think about that being nine years ago. One of the first social activities of my college experience crossed my path with that of a guy I would later call one of my dearest friends. After a year, I was in and believed with every ounce of my being that it was only a matter of time before we would end up together. What I have learned through this relationship, the dependence on God it has all but forced out of me, would astound you. As I think back on it, I wouldn’t trade it for the world. This relationship has pulled me through many lessons, one of which is a plaguing issue for women all over the planet. Body image.
I’m not one to bring up controversial issues let alone boldly tackle whats been deemed a touchy subject. So as a precursor, this post is no different.
I’ve been thinking a lot about why I am so drawn to tattoos, to permanent ink on the skin of others. Seems a little bizarre that not only do I enjoy the visual aesthetic, but they unfailingly draw me in to someone, provoking numerous thoughts on God, his Word and his eternal kingdom. The more I get to thinking, the more I discover legitimate themes of truth, woven into and birthed out of the concept of tattoos. I’d love to share them with you.
My hope and intention for this post is that the focus will be on the truths that tattoos cause me, personally, to dwell upon, rather than tattoos themselves. Truths I believe the Lord makes known and stirs within me for my good and his glory. My intent isn’t to stir further controversy around this topic, but to simply share my thoughts and what Scripture has to say, the former may be irrelevant, but the latter, authoritative. So without further ado, here are three reasons why I love tattoos:
I grew up in a loving home and I am truly blessed to have never doubted the love and support of my parents. I had an understanding of great human love, modeled before me daily. I don’t remember ever not having some sort of concept and knowledge of God. I knew that God existed and that he loved me but other than attending church regularly and praying before dinner, I don’t remember a lot of talk about Jesus. My parents continually encouraged me toward good, strong morals and values but to me, being “good” seemed to be enough.
One of the first times I remember making a decision for Christ was in junior high after spending a week at a Christian camp, which I did dozens of times, summer after summer. We were gathered around a late night campfire and someone told me Jesus had died for my sins and it was possible for me to have a relationship with him. At the time, I didn’t know what that meant, but I knew that this was something I wanted. Something was missing in my life and I thought this could be it. That night, a counselor at that camp walked me through the decision to follow Christ.
If you’re reading this right now, odds are you clicked on a link from Twitter or Facebook. Some of you may be use to seeing me post and share Before the Cross on Facebook and typically, thats how you find yourself here. If thats you, you may have noticed and wondered why I am no longer present in the world of Facebook (I’m most likely giving my presence on Facebook way too much credit here.). Or maybe you weren’t but maybe you are now. Maybe you got here some other way and are just curious as to why someone would care enough to remove themselves from such a vehicle of virtual community and connectedness. Well I can sum it all up in one word: Babies. I deactivated my Facebook because of babies. Hear me out, I promise I’m not crazy… so here goes nothing.