I Don't Want to Be Pretty Anymore

I thought it would be gone by now.  I thought this diamond, this love, this man would have taken it away.  He loves me.  He thinks I'm beautiful.  But the scars run so deep.

For the past twenty years I've wanted to be pretty.  I've wanted a guy to choose me.  I've wanted... well, I've wanted to believe the good things other people said about me.  But I couldn't because a man wasn't saying it.  And now that a man is saying it - well, those scars run so deep.

And here is where Christians step with the natural reactions of saying:

1. Everyone, even the most beautiful women have low self-esteem.
or
2. You ARE beautiful.
or
3. Well, it doesn't matter what the world says - look at who you are in Christ!  You are a daughter.  You are the daughter of the King - which means you're a princess!

And although all three are true (yes, I do realize I'm calling myself beautiful) they are still grounded in earth because all three are about ME.  It's about ME being loved.  ME feeling good about myself.  ME, ME, ME.

And settling for that - for being satisfied in knowing who I am because of Jesus - that might just be another form of idolatry.  I don't want to be content in that.  I want to move past that and say that Jesus' blood - God's grace - is sufficient for me.

Oh, I get chills when my David's sweet words reach my ears.  And I feel beautiful when he shares his heart.  And I love reading about how God shares His heart: who I am in Christ; that I am part of the Royal Priesthood.

But I don't want to settle for anything less than God Himself.