Three and a half years ago, a friend shared the gospel with
me, and the Holy Spirit compelled me to seriously consider what he was saying.
The months that followed were truly life-changing for me as I began to learn
who God was, what He had done to redeem us, and started to accept His grace for
myself. Over the span of a few months, I experienced a level of peace and
healing that I had never found before, something I had been subconsciously been
searching for, and this led to me being baptized. 2 Corinthians 5:17 says, Therefore, if anyone is in Christ, the
new creation has come: The old has gone, the new is here! God was
making me into a new creation. The Bible gives us the image of God as the
potter, with us as the clay, being molded and re-molded. And so, God began to
change many things in me.
With all these changes happening, I thought that it would be
a good idea to go and cut off all my hair. For the last ten or so years, I had
avoided having long hair but never went as short as I dreamed of doing. I can’t
say for sure what my mindset was – perhaps it was that I wanted to have control
over something, or that my prideful self wanted to prove that I didn’t care
what people thought, or that I wanted to see how Christians would react to
someone who looked different. It was a challenge, to me or to others, I’m not
sure. So I went and cut off most of my hair. Number 1 on the sides, longer on
top. I loved it. It led to some interesting interactions. It turned out to be
more high maintenance than when I’d had longer hair. It was with this haircut
that I walked into Humbervale for the first time. My gospel sharing friend
suggested I check out the young adult group there, even though I had been
attending another church at the time.
So I went. And I never felt anything but openness and
acceptance. They could have responded in many different ways, but instead they
were kind and loving to this brash, outspoken, baby Christian. They invited me
back. I went. They invited me to their young adult retreat. I went. That weekend,
we went to the Sunday church service after the retreat. I felt God tell me
strongly that this is where He wanted me. This congregation was older, German,
Baptist, with old hymns and subdued worship, completely different from the
church I had been attending. And yet, I sensed a level of warmth and love, a
depth of wisdom and grace that perhaps only comes from years and years of
walking with God. The young adults embraced me as I was, the families welcomed
me in and modeled what a Christian family looks like, the older couples were
humble and gracious and elicited respect from all those around them, including
me. So I became part of this family.
But back to hair. I couldn’t tell you if it was a conscious
or subconscious choice, but I began to grow my hair out. For those who have
ever cut their hair very short, you know it’s a bit of an awkward process. But
I just let it grow. And grow. I avoided the hair dresser because a part of me
was nervous that I would just ask her to cut it all off. During that time, God
was working on many things in my heart. One day, during a Sunday night worship,
one of the chaplains asked us to ask God
to show us how He saw us, to show us how He intends us to be. I had never
thought of that before. So I did. What God showed me was the culmination (or
perhaps the start) of a journey that I had been on.
God gave me a picture of myself, standing on the rock that
is Christ. My cornerstone. In the image, I was wearing a flowing white dress
and had long hair blowing in the wind. I can’t really do it justice with words
but what He impressed on my heart was this: You
are not just my child, you are my beautiful daughter. I wasn’t just a child
of God, but a wonderfully, beautifully made daughter of God. Those of you who
know me, know how much of a struggle that concept could be for me. God was
bringing forth a piece of my identity that I had long tried to avoid. I
realized this was something He had been working on for the last few years. One
of the things He had put on my heart previously was that I should dress up for
church, dress up for Him, in a skirt or dress. At the time, I understood it as
a way to show to others that God was important to me. I previously wouldn’t
dress up for anything, except maybe special occasions or a date. Church was
like a date with God. But He was also working on helping me accept that I was
His daughter, helping me to embrace that rather than push it away, showing me
the value in it.
Now, a little over three years from when I first cut my
hair, I find myself in a place where people comment on how long my hair is. I
look in the mirror and can’t believe how much hair I have. A friend warned me
about the stage when your hair is long enough that it gets caught in your
armpits, and I thought that was hilarious until it happened. I have no idea
what I’m doing so the other day I Googled, what to do with long hair. Yet, I
realized in a way, it’s become a testimony of the transformation that God is
working in me. The same way baptism is an outward expression of committing your
life to Christ, growing my hair has been an outward expression of allowing God
to work in me and mold me. When I worship, I see that image of myself again,
standing in front of the throne of God, and I can’t help but play with my hair.
A reminder of this promise from Him, of what He is calling me to be.
I don’t know how long I will continue to grow it. If it ever
became a point of pride or vanity, it would need to go, but somehow I don’t see
that happening. I had planned to wait until I went home in December and then
cut it to match my sister’s length (shoulder length) because everyone kept
commenting how alike we looked. A few weeks ago she got a buzz cut. There goes
that plan. So the hair will stay, until I feel God tell me otherwise. The
reason I write this is that I’ve felt really compelled for the last week or so
that I needed to share this. To emphasize that God knows us, truly knows us, in
a way that we don’t even know ourselves. Ask Him to show you how He sees you.
You might be surprised. He intends for us to be made whole. He loves us while
we are still broken. And so when I read the fruits of the Spirit, and think how
can I possibly ever have these qualities, particularly gentleness, I’m reminded
of that image God gave me, of how He intends me to be. I’m reminded that He is
working in me every single day, making me new, and that with the help of the
Spirit, it is possible to be all of these things and more.
[I walked into the dining room after writing this and the first thing someone said to me was, wow your hair is so long now! Couldn't help but laugh...]
[I walked into the dining room after writing this and the first thing someone said to me was, wow your hair is so long now! Couldn't help but laugh...]
So I went down to the potter’s house, and I saw him working at the wheel. But the pot he was shaping from the clay was marred in his hands; so the potter formed it into another pot, shaping it as seemed best to him. Then the word of the Lord came to me. He said, “Can I not do with you, Israel, as this potter does?” declares the Lord. “Like clay in the hand of the potter, so are you in my hand, Israel." ~ Jeremiah 18:3-6
This post is really cool. I admire your candor and honesty in your writing! And the armpit comment made me LOL ^_^
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