“If God had given me her legs, I would be in deep trouble…”

We wear short shortsI glance over at the girl right ahead of me in line. She’s probably 16, wearing light blue-jean cut-off short shorts and a white tank top. Her hair is blonde, highlighted and thick, hanging perfectly straight down to her shoulder blades. Her skin is perfectly tan and her long legs are shapely and smooth. She is a classic high school hottie, and even at the ripe old age of 24, I am surprised to find that I am not in the least bit jealous when looking at her.

The past 15 years of my life have been, like most women, riddled with disordered eating and exercise habits, dissatisfaction with images found in mirrors, jealous comparisons to other women, and a general body-image funk which motivated many of my actions, feelings, and insecurities. In short, I’ve had a negative body image since the age of 11, when I asked my brother (the only member of the opposite sex who I felt comfortable even asking this kind of question to) whether or not I looked “hott” in my Spring Sing dress. An awkward question to ask a brother, to be sure, but all relations aside, I was desperate to know that my image was considered desirable. That would confirm that I was loveable.

Even at age 19, I would check the mirror in my peripheral, notice my “pooching” stomach or my “undefined” arms, and I would immediately check the latest new workout or diet program when I got to the nearest computer. And at age 23, I started the P90X program, hoping to finally attain the body that I had wanted and worshiped for nearly all my life.

Well, God put a stop to that. As soon as I started the program, I got sick. Then I recovered, started the program again, and I got injured. Then I started it again, this time being very careful about what kind of shoes I wore (my injury was foot-related), and God got to me in a way much more powerful than any physical ailment. He convicted my soul.

He reminded me of my long battle with bulimia, and how hard I tried to attain the “perfect body” and how this ideal image was not only stealing my health, but also stealing my worship and love away from Him. He warned me that if I were to succeed in obtaining the body I thought I wanted so badly, I would be successful in creating an idol of myself. I would worship my own body. I would be turning away from Christ.

God did not give me perfectly shaped, smooth, tanned legs. He gave me odd-shaped hips and stretch marks on my runner’s thunder-thighs, rock-hard calves, farmer’s tan, kitten-scratches, backstage-stumble scars, and accidental shaving nicks. But I realize now, looking at the girl ahead of me in line, ordering her drink from the cashier, that if God had given me the “perfect body” (at least the one that I had dreamed up in my head), He would never get my entire heart, nor the glory that He wanted from me. He would never get my testimony of a recovered bulimic/anorexic who’s burden was lifted by finding Christ. He would have never gotten my faith, love, life, and identity.

Also, if God had given me my idea of the “perfect body”, my pride would shoot through the roof. I would be like the stupid and adulterous woman in Proverbs, I would be conceited and altogether dependent upon my physical attraction rather than my character in Christ. I would worship my own body and want everyone else to worship my body as well, and when my body became old and wrinkled, I would be lost and alone, feeling worthless without my youthful beauty. I would be a totally and completely foolish and Godless woman.

How scary is that?

It’s good to be reminded of how close to complete and utter depravity I am. It’s good to be reminded that I am never too far away from the sin of idolatry ruling my life.

So as I watch the beautiful young girl walk away with her drink, I step up next in line to order, “If God had given me her legs, I would be in deep trouble!”, I say to myself. And regardless of what the “perfect body” looks like in today’s culture, or what it looked like to me during these past 15 years, I trust that God gave me a body perfectly fit to be His temple and His possession. Because after all, I wasn’t created in the image of magazine pictures, Spring Sing hotties, or Barbie. I was created in the image of my Lord and Savior.

And that, my friends, is a far better body than I could create by starving myself and doing expensive workout programs.

Truth: I am a weirdo

“Those who are ashamed of me and my words in this adulterous and sinful generation, of them the son of man will also be ashamed when he comes in glory of his father with the holy angels.” Mark 8:38

There are times when I feel that being a Christian makes me weird. In a world where it’s encouraged to devote your entire life to making money and having fun, my life choices and opinions seem to contradict with the general population, oftentimes making me the awkward Jesus-freak at the party.

Yes, at times I feel confused and outcast when I find myself the only Christian in a group full of people who seem to despise anything remotely religious.

And I’ll admit, there are dark moments when I feel tempted to hide my true beliefs in Christ’s words simply because I don’t want to offend other people or be the odd one out.

Reading Jesus’ words here in Mark have deeply convicted me. I do not want to be ashamed of my Savior! I do not want to blend into an adulterous and sinful nation, even if it means I feel completely outcast.

In reality, Jesus himself was an outcast from the rest of society (that’s why they crucified him). But he shown brightly and stood out like the city upon a hill that he calls us all do be.

I too, am called to stand out and be marked as different. I am a child of God in a world that attempts to make gods out of celebrities’ photoshopped images; of course I am going to seem a little strange to the majority of people.

I am deeply proud of my God’s work, even when I don’t fully understand it. I love my Savior Jesus Christ and will never be ashamed of his unique holiness nor will I shy away from the high standards he holds me to as his follower.

“If any want to become my followers, let them deny themselves, take up their cross, and follow me. For those who want to save their life will lose it, and those who lose their life for my sake and for the sake of the gospel, will save it. For what will profit them to gain the whole world and forfeit their life?” Mark 8:34-35

I am a follower of Christ, therefore my life is not my own. My choices are lead by my God and so may look ridiculous in the eyes of many. But since my life is not my own, I do not live it to seek approval of the world–what good would that do me in the end?! It’s Jesus’ approval that I truly desire.

This is not an easy teaching: to place your entire identity in someone that you have not met face to face yet.

But the weight of the world is much heavier than the weight of his cross, the cross that he already carried for us.

I would rather love Jesus and be a weirdo than be accepted into any social group on this earth.

What about you? Is it ever hard for you to admit to those around you that you live for Christ? Do you ever feel yourself hiding your faith or feeling ashamed of your unique calling? How does Mark’s passages speak to you?