a thought about heaven

I was walking down a path, enjoying the solitude, when I heard a rustling behind me and thought, "There's someone following...". I went on a few steps, uneasy, then turned around.

There was no one there. The rustling I heard was the wind running its fingers through the leaves of an oak, shaking brown leaves from among the green so that they fell slanting like rain.

It was one of those moments when you catch your breath and think, "If the earth can be this lovely, what will heaven be like?".

Where moments like this await us around every corner. Where each moment is free from even a hint of sorrow or fear. Where they slide into each other, moment after sunblown moment, until the years become one long story of joy.

image is by -Reji on flickr.com

to dye or not to dye?

To dye or not to dye? This question came up on Jenny's blog, and I just couldn't resist jumping in with a typically over-long comment! Here's an edited version of what I wrote, for women considering the pressing question of whether to dye their greying hair or not. If you want some more practical and no doubt godlier reflections, check out her blog post and the comments.

Like all things the Bible doesn't legislate on, whether or not to dye your hair comes down to the freedom to serve one another in love (Gal 5:13). It's the doctrine of demons to declare a created thing "bad": it's good if received with thanksgiving (1 Tim 4:1-5). We're not to submit to rules like "do not handle! do not taste! do not touch!" (Col 2:16-23).

So yes, hair dye, waxing, and, dare I say, even botox and surgery to improve appearance are not evil in themselves: they are good gifts of God to be received with thanksgiving (you only have to think of times they are "necessary" - as in reconstructive surgery after injury - to see that this is true).

Yet physical beauty is fleeting, and we're to adorn ourselves with trust in God, gentleness and good deeds rather than with elaborate hairstyles, clothes and makeup (Prov 31:30; 1 Tim 2:9-10, 1 Pet 3:3-4). We're free to use these things with godliness and thankfulness, but not to over-value or get our value from them. Do we spend more time studying our reflection in the bathroom mirror or the mirror of God's word? (James 1:22-25) Are we living in luxury and self-indulgence? (James 5:5)

So how do I decide whether to dye my greying hair or not? Well, partly this is a matter of personal freedom: I may decide to wear lipstick, or colour my hair, because I like and enjoy it, and that's okay as long as I'm not enslaved to it as an idol (obsessed, spending too much money, and so on). I may need a godly friend to help me sort this one out!

It's also a matter of context: what is loving for those around me? Am I bringing honour to Christ? These are the main principles at stake.

Some principles that occur: the "weaker brother" principle (Rom 14). Do others in my Christian community see what I am doing as evil? Will I lead them into sin - to act against their own conscience? I may abstain from hair dye for this reason. (I hope this isn't an issue for many of us!)

The "all things to all people so that by all possible means I might save some" principle (1 Cor 9:20-23). I imagine if I was ministering in a posh suburb or to film stars (thank heavens I'm not!) botox etc. might be part of the deal. In my case, I choose a hair style that is appropriate for our local community. Although there's also the other side of this: it's good to stand out and make choices that set us apart as different (Titus 2). So I have to evaluate the impact of what I do on those around me.

For example, I work among uni students and I don't age gracefully, so I try to look a little younger in how I dress and what I do with my hair and makeup. Maybe this is just vanity, I don't know. Younger women don't need me to be "young": they need my age and the wisdom that comes with age (Titus 2:3-5) and grey hair can be a symbol of this (Prov 16:31). As they get to know me, it's character they'll notice, not appearance. But it's good not to put obvious stumbling blocks in their way.

Who am I kidding? For me this is really a matter of personal preference. I think I might do the "funky grey" thing if my husband liked short hair. But since one of the ways I love him is by keeping my hair long (not my first choice), and since he likes my hair this way, I dye it (his preferences are the ones I honour after God's). I was planning not to, but there you go. I have thick, wiry hair and I think I'd look a little odd with long grey hair! (Think Macbeth.) And yes, maybe I spend more than I should: my (perhaps pathetic) excuse is that I don't have that convenient-coloured hair that you can easily dye yourself. Plus I've built up a close relationship with my (relatively cheap) hairdresser, including some conversations about Jesus, and, like all good hairdressers, she owns my hair, and it would feel strange to back out of those long hair-dying sessions now...

In other words, in different circumstances I might make a different decision. I'm not holding myself up as an example, just letting you know how this decision worked out for me. I'm sure that the choices my friends and those around me were making had a huge impact on me; every decision we make impacts others, which is a sobering thought and perhaps should give us pause as we reach for the hair dye.

Whether we dye our hair or not, the principles remain the same:

• don't legislate on issues where God has allowed freedom
• receive what God has made with thanksgiving
• use our freedom to serve others in love (e.g. husband, church community, or non-Christian friends
• honour those who make different decisions to ourselves (unless they are making them for ungodly reasons, in which case it may be loving to bring the issue to their attention).

If we do this then we are honouring Christ by our decisions, whatever they may be.

Can you think of Bible references or principles that I've missed?


This post first appeared at The Briefing today (posting it there made me feel very brave and more than a little foolish).

image is by foxtongue from flickr

inner beauty and the style icon

I read the saddest, most discouraging article the other day.

It was called Age Perfect and it was in Sunday Life magazine, which comes to our house via The Age newspaper, and to yours, perhaps, via The Sydney Morning Herald. It followed hot on the heels of a recent article about "cougars", older women who ooze sex appeal, most often seen on the arms of younger men.

"Age perfect" should have been an encouraging article. It's about (it claims) inner beauty. It's about how older women are the new style icons. So long pushed out of the way by young, nubile teens and 20-somethings, 40 is now the new 20. Older women have won our admiration for their ...

Wisdom? Life-experience? Character? No. Here's why older women (that is, 40 or 50 year olds) have won our hearts:

• Demi Moore (47) was spotted at 41 "sporting a body as hard as the surfboard she was carrying by her side"; her younger husband, Ashton Kutcher, 32, exclaimed on Twitter, "'Watching my wife steam my suit while wearing a bikini. I love God!'" Oh, and she wears "Donna Karan, Michael Kors or Roland Mouret ... Or Versace".
• Gail Elliott (fashion designer) says, "'I know my body better. I feel proud of it. Being happy with yourself makes you confident, which makes you happy.' ... Elliott believes that by 40, most women know how to work it."
• Michelle Obama (46) "is a knockout, sure, ... but it's the all-round package that has the world mesmerised: her elegance, sophistication and intellect. Stuff it takes years to acquire. ... To top it off, she can dress."

• Collette Dinnigan (fashion designer, 44) says, "Dress for your body shape and what you know works; classic accessories always add a twist ... When you feel good, you look good. Confidence is sexy."


• Jennifer Aniston (41) "gets about in cut-off denims on days off and chic minis at premieres." Helena Christensen (41), is "Always elegant and chic, not radical or trying to change her body." Elle Macpherson (46), "still working her trademark string bikini and cowboy hat", has a "wonderful personal style and always looks great."

These "older women" are 40 or 50 but look much younger. They've been able to "ward off ageing", not with Botox or cosmetic surgery (or so the article claims - although it admits that some of its heroines have probably resorted to surgery) but with "lifestyle choices" - "time to exercise", "organic food", the ability to dress for one's body shape, designer fashion, and, in Jennifer Keate's case, "her mother's time-trusted facial exercises".

The article concludes with some words about "inner beauty":

'It's about how you take care of yourself; it's about inner beauty.' ... For once, self-love is more alluring than tits and teeth. Inner beauty is yours for the taking. If you just bide your time.

And here's me thinking that inner beauty is all about a quiet spirit which trusts in God! (1 Pet 3:3-4) Apparently it's really about self-confidence, caring for yourself, and self-love. And, of course, youthful looks, diet, exercise, a sculpted figure, and designer clothes. So, at the age of 41, here's what I have to aspire to (and a standard I, like most women, have no hope of meeting): a toned body, a designer wardrobe, and the kind of ethereal beauty which ages well.

Give me God's dream for the older women: a woman respected not for her style and well-preserved sex appeal, but for her wisdom, godly character, years of faithful service, and trust in Jesus (1 Tim 5:9-10). I'll take a few wrinkles, some saggy skin, and a dream like that any day.

Charm is deceptive, and beauty is fleeting; but a woman who fears the LORD is to be praised. (Prov 31:30)

ageing beauty

This post appeared at Sola Panel today. I thought I'd reproduce it in full here, with pictures. I hope you enjoy it!

I'm sitting outside a cafe at a wobbly iron table, my pen moving lazily and messily across my notebook as I dream and write, dream and write. I sip from my mug-sized chai latte. A European wasp hovers hungrily above the frothed milk.

I look up and see a slim young Asian woman, neatly dressed in white shirt and charcoal bootlegs, smooth, dark hair in a ponytail, discreet silver rings in her ears. She tugs gently on the padded front bar of a walker.

Behind the walker is an elderly woman, bent sideways and stooped over like a crooked L. She shuffles one foot forward and slides the other up to meet it, swollen ankles hanging in soft folds over slippered feet. Her skin is crumpled and spotted with age, her white fly-away hair scant and dry, her patterned shirt and pleated skirt thrift-shop polyester.

She lowers herself carefully onto a bench. The young woman fetches a cup of tea and an easily digested sweet biscuit, and sits and chats about whatever comes into her head: the balmy weather, a boyfriend who left her, how she likes to sit in the garden after work. The older woman listens attentively, a small smile on her carefully lipsticked mouth.

Here is a greater humility than I have yet learned—not just to serve, but to receive service—to patiently accept help with simple tasks like walking, personal tasks like choosing which bread rolls to buy, and intimate tasks like showering. It would be even harder (for me, at least) to respond graciously when, inside, I'm longing for solitude and silence—to trade this lovely coffee shop stillness (how I love sitting alone in coffee shops!) for a constant companion who feels the need to make cheery conversation.

It looks like the younger woman is serving the older, but I suspect a different dynamic is operating. A sweet and unassuming gift is being given from older to younger—a gift of experienced wisdom, cheerful forbearance and patient stillness. It's a wisdom gained through a lifetime, a cheerfulness won during who knows how many battles with irritation and anxiety, and a stillness that has been reached after many years of cooking and washing and cleaning and serving.

How easy it would be to become bitter and self-absorbed and grumpy and anxious and shrill as I grow old! Instead, I pray that I will become like this woman, whose gentle spirit shines from her sweet face with a soft radiance. I pray that as my joints ache and my skin wrinkles, my heart would grow more lovely year by year. I pray that even now, I would be planting the seeds of humility, gentleness, cheerfulness and forbearance that will one day blossom into the beauty of lovely old age.

Your beauty should not come from outward adornment, such as braided hair and the wearing of gold jewelry and fine clothes. Instead, it should be that of your inner self, the unfading beauty of a gentle and quiet spirit, which is of great worth in God's sight. 1 Pet 3:3-4

images are from stock.xchng

Claire Smith on true beauty

True beauty is a heart that is pure, ... reverent and respectful, quiet and humble. ... Although they don't look like much, these inner qualities - this purity, this reverent fear, this quiet spirit, this humility - are really worth something. They're expensive adornment as far as God is concerned. ... [Quietness is] a peaceful attitude of the heart that comes from a confident and rock-solid trust in God. It's a quiet spirit because you're trusting God. True beauty is beauty of the heart, and do you know, it's so extraordinary ... that even unbelieving husbands will find it beautiful. ... A heart shaped by moral and ethical purity and reverence for God, gentleness, trust in God that frees us from worry and anxiety, and a conscious effort and commitment to inner beauty rather than external beauty. ... Forget the face creams, forget the sales, if we want our husbands to think we're really beautiful, this is where real beauty is to be found. And better, it's beauty that improves with age.

Claire Smith on 1 Pet 3:1-7 - Won Without a Word from Different by Design

image is from stock.xchng

a reverse fairytale

Once upon a time there were twin sisters.

One, like all the best fairy-tale princesses (she, however, was only an aspiring princess) had curly blonde hair, pink cheeks and rose-bud lips, as blithe and bonny as a May day. Her name, somewhat predictably, was May. Her sister had straight hair of an indeterminate shade of mousy brown, a sharp nose, a single long hairy eyebrow, and a worried forehead. Her name, perhaps also somewhat predictably, was Mabel.

(At this point we pause to apologise to southern hemisphere readers - that's most of you - but "November day" didn't sound quite right. Also to anyone called Mabel, it's really a lovely name, but I had to choose something, and Mabel echoed May nicely. May and Mabel. Notice that? And I actually like brown hair, the mousier the better. I mean it. My own hair is a particularly fetching shade of mouse. And while I don't have a sharp nose, a single hairy eyebrow, or curly blonde hair, I like lots of people who do.)

When they were 5, May could often be seen skipping gaily through fields of daisies, dangling a basket of blooms over one arm, avoiding wolves because they might dirty her frock; or charming wealthy bachelor uncles with a simpering smile and a shake of her well-brushed curls. Mabel was generally to be found with a stubborn expression, her head buried in a book; or with scratched limbs and twig-filled hair, her overall-clad legs dangling from a tree branch.

At the age of 15, May spent hours each morning applying quality beauty products to her flawless skin, was always fetchingly attired in a full-skirted dress, and was frequently surrounded by a bevy of the local lads. Mabel's face was a patchwork of acne, her forehead bruised from frequent contact with posts while reading and walking simultaneously, and her (admittedly rather lovely) eyes hidden behind thick black-rimmed glasses. The local lads tended to avoid her.

When they were 20, May received countless proposals from all the princes of neighbouring lands, but refused every one, for she really loved only herself. She eventually condescended to bestow her hand on a ridiculously wealthy film star with the distinction of royalty. Mabel received a single wedding proposal from a local farming lad, of no great handsomeness or charm, who was able to see past her unbrushed hair and off-putting expression. She accepted him (as in all the best fairytales) because she perceived his faithful and loving heart.

At 35, May had preserved her looks through the cunning use of certain horrendously expensive beauty treatments, her flat stomach with the help of a personal trainer, and her serene expression (frown lines are so unappealing) by employing a live-in nanny to raise her spoiled daughter. She was beginning to worry about the appearance of faint lines around her constantly pursed lips. Mabel had 6 (or was it 8) children, and the kind of stomach you get after 6 (or was it 8) children, also flabby arms and some grey hairs, and a rather hoarse voice after years of shouting to get her children's attention. She did have some rather fetching laugh-lines, although she never could see it.

By 50 May still looked 35, for at that point she had begun a series of facelifts, collagen and botox injections which, while they left her face looking rather frozen, at least preserved it from wrinkles of any kind. She could generally be found surreptitiously admiring her appearance in the nearest shiny surface. Mabel was a grandmother, her once mousy brown hair a rather dull grey, and her lap spread into the kind of lap so inviting to grandchildren; but her wrinkled face had a happy and well-loved expression gained through years of affectionate embraces. She was often seen carrying a basket of home-baked goodies to anyone in the village who was sick or housebound.

By 70, May no longer looked 35, but a rather stretched-looking 50, with a severe expression permanently fixed on her face from a lifetime of looking down her nose at those less blessed by nature than herself. People tended to avoid her, for they disliked her constant whinging about the attention she deserved and no longer received. Mabel was cared for by her 25 doting grandchildren, her face such a mass of wrinkles that it had crumpled like soft crepe paper. Oddly enough, people called her beautiful, attracted to the serenity and tenderness of her expression.

Only one of them lived happily ever after.

Which, as Aesop would say, is not to say that you shouldn't get beauty treatments, just don't expect them to give you beauty of any real or lasting kind.