Ugly

So His visage was marred more than any man, and His form more than the sons of men. So shall He startle many nations...He has no form or comeliness, And when we see Him there is no beauty that we should desire Him. He is despised and rejected by men, A man of sorrows and acquainted with grief  And we hid, as it were, our faces from Him; He was despised, and we did not esteem Him.

As yesterday was Good Friday, I read Isaiah 52-55. And that is relevant, I promise.


Every so often, I really struggle with physical beauty. Every so often as in, every time I remember, as in every freaking day. I am shamefully aware of how I do not measure up to the current beauty standards.

 And it is never any help to call to mind the empty words I heard growing up in church about beauty being on the inside, and beauty being about your heart, and how everyone is beautiful because God made them, because not even people of the church live as if those standards are true. I know, because I grew up in it.
 I live in the midst of it.

I remember how it felt to have my heart lift ever so slightly when they'd toss out phrases like 'modest is hottest'. I remember the little bit of hope that flared on being told 'a girl's personality is what really makes her attractive and draws attention' and 'I've always wanted a Proverbs 31 woman'.
 I can recall tentatively daring to believe that what I'm worth is not something that can be taken or given by any physical attribute I do or do not posses.
 I can still feel how I pushed away the shame, and tried to believe that maybe, possibly, I was really beautiful too.

So the heart drowning in self shame grasps onto things such as this, as it floundered in the turbulence of subliminal messages on television, in newspaper ads, in clothing store mannequins.

I remember the despair, the total and complete despair as I realized that people might want to believe those things. They might even intend to.
And the conversation the guys have, right in front of you, evaluating a girl half your size, your antithesis in every physical way possible, determining her worth and appeal to be worth their scrutiny and attention and desire (and probably lust).

 Your heart sinks, you feel a little sick, you realize you look nothing like her and there's no way in hell you ever will.

So you comfort yourself and think 'that's just because guys are simplistic chauvinists driven by their hormones' and you look for someone else to tell you that yes, what they said was true. You are more than your waistline, your hair type, your complexion, and so am I.
And then the glancing comment that doesn't glance, but sinks straight into your chest from the girl who you've always thought was prettier than you in every way, about how her teeth are too yellow, her hips too big, her hair too flyaway, and you realize that if she thinks she's ugly, what in the world does she think of you?

You think surely those things disappear after middle school
then you hope they'll be gone after high school
then you plead with God that after college, then you'll be past this terrible game you can't ever win


Then you read Isaiah. A prophesy, about Someone you know, and who knows you back. And you read about how rejected He was, and undesired He was, because when we see Him there is no beauty that we should desire Him. And you realize He knows.

He knows. 

And He doesn't dismiss the paralyzing fear of inadequacy, because He too heard the message He was inadequate. And He doesn't minimize the depth of pain you feel upon being silently told you aren't worth attention, because He was rejected too. And doesn't He know every single pang that shakes straight into your bones every time your miserable heart sends blood through your miserable veins and you swallow the message that you are just. not. worth. anyone's. desire. Because He was undesired too. He knew sorrow, he know grief. Maybe His heart, too, constricted under the weight  of the verdict so swiftly and deftly slammed down over His head.


Does He hurt as we all writhe under the agonizing weight of being told our beauty is directly tied to our sex appeal?