Читать книгу Victorious Secret - Laura Mary Phelps - Страница 11

Chapter 2

The Self-Image Battle

“Let not yours be the outward adorning with braiding of hair, decoration of gold, and wearing of robes, but let it be the hidden person of the heart with the imperishable jewel of a gentle and quiet spirit, which in God’s sight is very precious.”

— 1 Peter 3:3–4

I was feeling pretty good about life and my place in it, until I scrolled through my Instagram feed and saw it.

The pie.

This perfectly baked cherry pie.

And not only was it a beautiful and delicious-looking pie, but taken out of it was the perfect little bite. This glorious, gourmet cherry pie was plated on a perfectly worn piece of vintage china, with a single silver fork, gracefully placed on the edge of the plate. And as if that were not enough, this entire plate and pie was photographed on a rustic, distressed, and absolutely fabulous farm table.

Now, some people might scroll right past that pie. Because I mean, honestly, who cares? Big deal. You made yourself a pie and took a picture of it. Congratulations. Whatever. But not me. You want to know the bag of crazy that popped into my mind when I saw that beautiful pie?

How on earth did she have the time to bake that? Why did she bake it? Obviously, she must be having a party or a group of friends over. Or one of her fabulous arts and crafts gatherings. I’ll bet she is sitting in her perfect house right now laughing with friends and being all hospitable, and her hair probably looks good, too. Good grief, she has people over in the middle of the day? How is her house clean enough for that? And that china plate … she probably got it at a thrift shop. And where does all of her money come from anyway? She has nineteen kids, and she doesn’t even work! I guess she sits around baking and entertaining and thrifting … while I sit in my mess of a rented home, microwaving some sort of loser dinner for my family on paper plates because all of our real plates are chipped and sitting in the sink. And what about all those kids? They probably helped bake the darn thing! In fact, I’ll bet they picked the cherries that went into that pie as a family because this was some sort of homeschooling lesson, where they measured and counted and turned pie baking into an educational experience. They probably held hands and prayed over the ingredients. And why don’t I have a farm table? I think I need a farm table. Seriously. I think I would be so much happier if I just found the right farm table. I hate myself. I really do. I mean look at me. I’m wearing my 13-year-old’s leggings and my 11-year-old’s dirty sweatshirt. I look like a homeless woman. I really do. If I sat outside on the corner you would totally give me money. That’s how homeless I look right now. And what really gets me is, what woman can sit down and eat a pie on a Tuesday afternoon without hating herself? Right? I mean come on, it’s gotta be loaded with gluten. And sugar. So much sugar. But she’s so skinny! So unfair. She’s skinny eating pie with friends in her clean home while I sit at my messy desk in my homeless attire. You know how fat I would get if I did nothing but make pies and eat them? She probably doesn’t even eat it. She’s probably one of those women who invite other women to come over and eat, and she sits and watches. She wants everyone to be fatter than she is. Nice. Ugh. I really am a mess. Why can’t I just get myself together? The house is a mess, my desk is a mess, I am not even good at my job, and who knows what my kids are up to? I need help. Serious help. And I need a farm table. I really need a farm table. What’s wrong with me? I hate that stupid pie.

Ah, the wonderful, encouraging world of social media! Isn’t it great?

Only, the problem here really isn’t social media, is it? The problem here is me. How I view and compare myself to others. How I distort images and do some serious magical thinking, which is a therapist term for “making up a story and fully believing it.” Because other than the fact that this woman had a few minutes and the desire to photograph a pie, every other thought that ran through my head was most likely false. (Except for the thrifting. I stand by the thrifting, because honestly, I may not know her, but she thrifts too much.)

But we do this, don’t we? We see an image and our minds create a story around it. We see, and we desire. And this is good. A great picture ought to tell a story; it ought to stir emotion. But there is a problem with this today. Because we are bombarded by images, and we have the hideous ability to see what everyone is doing, eating, drinking, wearing, vacationing, and enjoying, at every given moment of our every single day. And most of the images we see? Guess what? They are filtered. They are staged. They are untrue. They are the one perfect shot out of 500 others you did not see, and most likely never will.

But it is hard to choose not to use filters, because they really do make us look so much better. The first time I used a filter on my face and saw the even, smooth skin and bright eyes, I was sold! And don’t even get me started on those animal filters my children use … because honestly, I am at my most beautiful ever when I look and sound like a deer. Who knew? Strange, but I gotta admit, so true. So much so, that I have already requested that when I die, if possible, I’d like to be laid out in the coffin looking exactly like that deer.

Let’s just confess. We all love filters. And let’s just admit that if we like ourselves better as seen through an animal filter, well, sweet friend, there might be a problem.

Because here is an interesting thing. You know what it means to filter? I do. Not because I am smart, but because I looked it up. To use a filter means to “remove what is unwanted.” When I read that, I was really struck by it, and not in a good way. Something about the word remove … something about the word unwanted. How many years of my life have I devoted to trying to remove those things about me that I do not want, those things about me that I think make me less attractive? Less desirable? Those things in my life that might point to the fact that I am kind of a hot mess and not the perfect woman I’d like you to think that I am? Too many years. From the nose job when I was just seventeen, to drastic weight loss in college, to the frantic house-cleaning maniac I turn into moments before company arrives. I have been on a nearly life-long quest of seeking out the illusion of perfection. Changing my image to fit whatever crowd I was currently in, transforming myself into the woman I thought a man would be attracted to. And let’s be honest, ladies, we not only like to be perfect for the men, but even more so for other women. Right? We are the most competitive species I know, and we love a good game of comparison — as long as we win. So, all of this filtering we do, it really isn’t about enhancing the beauty that is already there, is it? No. It is about removing the unwanted to give the illusion that everything is so much better than it actually is, because the way we are, as is, is not good enough.

I think we do this because we want everyone to believe that we are better than just okay. I think we remove and sift and filter things out so that people cannot see what is really going on inside our homes, inside our families, inside our marriages, inside our hearts, inside our heads. I get it, not everyone needs to see the inside of your kitchen junk drawer, or what your linen closet looks like. And not everyone should be trusted with the truth of how weary you feel, how painfully lonely your marriage has been, how lost you fear your children might be, how you struggle to find meaning and purpose. But we do need to recognize that filters don’t work in real life and in real relationships, because filters don’t encourage the basic things we need to thrive, like truth, authenticity, and honesty.

And we really need to acknowledge, at some point, that life is not perfect, we are not perfect, and that our pain is valid and real and okay and should be addressed, because sticking a deer’s ears and nose on it will not make it go away. It’s a temporary fix. It is not made to last. And I don’t know about you, but no matter how loud the world gets, or how much it tries to convince me that nothing lasts forever, and love is a feeling, and we can choose our gender and marry our dog (okay, so we can’t marry our dog … yet), I still disagree. I disagree because I want authentic, lasting relationships, and I want to choose to love because I desire the greatest good for others, not just myself, and because I want to live in the light of truth. But if I can’t be honest with myself, how will I ever learn to be honest with others? And if I can’t truly love myself, how can I truly love others? All these filters, all this work to appear lovely, all the botox and tummy tucks and nose jobs, only tear us away and apart from our true selves, from the truth of not only who we are, but whose we are: each of us is a beautiful, beloved daughter of God, an absolute masterpiece, a stunning work of art.

That is exactly how you describe yourself, isn’t it? God’s beloved. A work of art. (Did you laugh when you read that, or roll your eyes? Because I did both while I wrote it.)

It’s hard to believe this, isn’t it? It’s hard to get real. I think we have just pretended for so long that it feels wrong to drop our mask and widen the camera lens and show the whole picture. But here is the thing. There will never be a filter we can use that will keep our true selves from the One who sees all, knows all, and created all. And I often wonder what God thinks when he sees us poring over false images, doubting who we are, buying into lies, comparing our lives to one another, trying to remake ourselves to look like someone else. I think about how sad he must feel when we pick apart our faces, our bodies, our marriages, our families, our careers, our lives, desperately trying to cover up the imperfections, remove the unwanted. And oh, how exhausted we are. How painfully tired we are from all of this performing. From all of this nonsense. From all of these empty attempts at identifying ourselves as anything other than “child of God.” Because the bottom line is just that. We are his beloved. We are his creation. He made us to love him and to know him here on earth, so that we can live for an eternity with him in heaven. It really is so simple.

And yet, we have made it so incredibly complicated. The world has shoved an endless buffet of self-image choices in our face, telling us we can pick who we are, remake ourselves completely, choose our identity and what we want to be. And I will be honest. I have been up and down that buffet for forty-seven years now. Turns out, finding suggestions on how to change myself, to better myself, to improve who I am apart from a relationship with God is super easy! But finding the truth about my identity? Finding the one thing that tells me to stop striving, to stop self-loathing, to rest in the arms of my Father because I have been made in his image, and because he loves me, just as I am? Not so easy. The choice that reminds me that my self-worth is not wrapped up in my appearance, successes, how big or clean my house is, or by the number of college acceptances and scholarships my children earn, or by that stupid, freaking number on the scale? I can’t easily find that choice. And how sad. How incredibly sad that we are all running around like headless chickens, desperate for purpose, dying for meaning, running in circles of despair, because by the world’s standards, our worth is nothing.

Sweet friend, this could not be any farther from the truth of who we are and the enormous value we possess. Because you see, my self-worth, and your self-worth? If we truly want to break out the measuring stick, if we honestly require an accurate weight of our worth, all we need to do is stop grasping at the empty promises around us and look up at the crucifix. Close your eyes right now for one minute and see it. See him. Because the fact is that God sent his only beloved Son to earth, to feel all that we feel, to live among us, to give up his life for sinners like you and me while he was sinless, and to die a most hideous death just for you and for me — just as we are. And he would do it all over again, even if we were the only two people on earth to die for. Do we really need more proof of how precious we are, how beautiful we are, how worth it we are, than that?

We were worth dying for. And we still are.

It is when I do this, when I take my self-doubt, my self-hatred, my hideous lack of self-worth, and the false idea that I can find my identity in anything other than Christ, to the foot of the cross, then I can see our Father reaching out to all of us, as a loving father does. And I can hear his voice saying,

“Oh, sweet daughter, just stop. Please stop and listen. I made you. Do you hear me? You are my beautiful creation. And you have been made perfect in my image. Not the images you see on Instagram. MY image. There is no bit of you that is unwanted. I knit you myself, and I do not make mistakes. Stop undoing the threads. It is killing you. You are exhausted. I did not make you to feel this way. Stop the striving, take off the filter, and just be you. Only I can purify you, only I can refine you. Let me. Let my light pass through you. Quit shutting me out. Put down the filter of this world and take up MY filter. Look at yourself through my eyes, and through my heart. See yourself the way I see you. See how I love you, how very much I want you. Just as you are. Every piece of you. Wanted.”

And then I hear him say, “By the way, she bought that pie from the store and the rest of her house was a mess, and you don’t need a farm table, and you want to see homeless? Because I can show you homeless … so please … just shut up.” Only God probably doesn’t say shut up. I do. I should probably filter that.

I don’t know. I just think we live a half-filled life when we spend it trying to make it look like something it isn’t; when we spend it trying to fill it with things that do not come from God. Because honestly? Who are we fooling? God sees you, and he wants you. Every bit of the you he created. He doesn’t want you looking like a deer and he doesn’t care how perfect your life looks on your Instagram feed. Only he holds your purpose, and only he knows your plan. And the sooner we get to know him, who knew us before we were born, the sooner those plans will be revealed. God sees so much more than you are willing to show, and he knows the amazing things about you that he has given to only you. And he wants it all.

You are wanted as is. Made in his image. Unfiltered. Unstaged. Totally and 100 percent wanted. Look at that image. Post that. And believe it.

Battle Plan

Let’s check our “feed”: those things we look at, allowing them to influence us and shape our hearts. Maybe it’s social media, gossip magazines, or a favorite Netflix binge. Do a heart check and ask yourself, “Am I encouraged by what I see? Or do I want to throw myself off a cliff when I’m done?” So many of us are choosing to look at things that chip away at our self-image, dragging us down into the pit of comparison. Pay attention to how you feel after you spend time looking at these images. Maybe it is time to clean up your feed not only by eliminating the junk, but by adding more truth and beauty.

Weapon of Choice

The Belt of Truth is the first piece of armor we need to put on. This is no ordinary leather belt. You won’t find it at TJ Maxx. From it will hang our Sword of the Spirit, so it is a most important piece of defense, not only protecting us against the lies that bombard us, but also preparing us for victory in the battle. I have always wanted to say this: “Gird your loins!” And while girding, go ahead and repeat often, “You are all fair, my love; there is no flaw in you” (Song 4:7), believing that these are God’s words spoken to you, just as you are.