Maintaining Appearances (Columbus Post #2)

You know that stereotype about women worrying more about their appearance than men worry about theirs? I think that's a lie. I know several men who are balding and sigh over it. Speaking of hair, hair gel for men is a good example of male attention to their appearance. I have several guy friends who are very concerned about their weight (one of the latter, when talking about New Year's resolutions in Columbus, said his "shallow resolution" was: "Lose some weight, fatty"). This isn't to say that women don't worry about appearance, but that in many important ways, men and women are more alike than we are different.

For a long time, I confused humility with self-deprecation. I thought humility meant never accepting compliments, never believing you could be the best at anything, never letting somebody insult you if you could beat them to it. I ignored everything my parents said about how none of this was good for me. Then I ran into some girls who were doing the same sorts of things I was doing and I found those behaviors to be hugely annoying. Why? 

As strongly as self-obsession does, self-deprecation implies that you are the one who gets to defines yourself. Beware how you go about such work: "For the most part we do not see first, then define; we define first and then see" (Walter Lippmann). Usually, until my friends point out that they've gained weight, or that they haven't had anything interesting to say all night, or that they haven't cleaned in too long, I don't notice any of those things. Once they've been pointed out, even if I don't agree with the statement, I'll spend some time thinking about it. Waste some time. Previously, I was thinking about things like how great their band sounds, or how we can talk about anything, or simply how it's nice to see them. A self-deprecating remark derails the easy relational flow that we had going...or that I had going. It reveals pain I didn't know was there, and it opens up my own insecurity.

Because if something like a little weight fluctuation or a lull in the conversation or a few dirty dishes are important to my friend, then what do they notice about me? I'm not perfect, either.

None of us are. We know it. Somewhere below the worrying over what other people think is the knowledge that none of us is perfect enough to be loved for everything we are. We cover up, praising or shaming ourselves in turn, trying to distract others from our real problems, foolishly imagining that our problems preoccupy everyone else the way they preoccupy us, when in reality everyone else is busy looking for cover, too.

When Adam and Eve chose to partake of the forbidden and found it wasn't all the serpent promised it would be, they went looking for fig leaves to sew into clothing. I wonder if they searched in separate directions. I wonder if they could stand to make eye contact before God came looking for them.

When He came, He didn't tell them they were wrong to seek covering. He showed them they had chosen the wrong way to go about it, that He was the one who covers in a meaningful way. Later, He would send perfection personified, a person who wasn't all that much to look at but who brought perfection as clothing for those who saw how much they needed it and that He was the only one who could give it to them.

Here's the bad news: We can't ever be pretty enough, or thin enough, or smart enough, or charming enough, or enough enough, to merit or hold onto love.

Here's the good news: Grace abounds. Real love covers a multitude of all kinds of failings, from a bad hair day to harsh words hurled in anger. "We love, because He first loved us" (I John 4:19). You can't earn it...but you can't stop it, either.

As for me, I have repeatedly found that when I choose to define by love instead of looks, I get the fringe benefit of that choice thrown in: love makes people beautiful like nothing else ever can.