For You formed my inward parts; You knitted me together in my mother’s womb. I praise You, for I am fearfully and wonderfully made. Wonderful are Your works; my soul knows it very well. My frame was not hidden from You, when I was being made in secret, intricately woven in the depths of the earth. Your eyes saw my unformed substance; in Your book were written, every one of them, the days that were formed for me, when as yet there was none of them.
Texts like this one show me just how much of an unbeliever I am. Sure, I sing about Jesus at church. My husband is a pastor, for goodness’ sake. But when it comes to my perspective on me, I look much more like an atheist than a cross-clinger.
Lights flash and the crowd cheers as a once-frumpy mom prances onto the stage, hair gorgeous, makeup perfect, and clothes flattering and feminine. As petty as it may sound, I honestly love these moments. The newfound confidence just emanates from a creature who finally feels as pretty as she is.
Growing up in the church, I heard quite the assortment of beauty stances, each with its own set of verses backing it up. Some advocate no makeup at all, while others urge paying attention to every little detail. Peter and Paul seem to prefer ladies wearing potato sacks, but the godly couple in Song of Songs are major fans of pleasing aesthetics. Then add the sultry tips from the adulterous woman in Proverbs, the year-long beauty treatments Esther “endured,” and the bit about how looks are fleeting; talk about confusing!