What Maggie taught me about beauty

Maggie was handed a mirror and the first thing she said was, “Gorgeous!” She had just finished getting her hair straightened along with several other prom attendees at Night to Shine, a prom night for individuals with disabilities. Maggie is a 25-year-old woman with cerebral palsy who uses a walker and requires assistance with her right arm. I had the privilege of being Maggie’s buddy that night. She wore a simple red dress with sparkles, sharing the great deal it was—ten dollars at Target—whenever complimented on it. She had the best sense of humor and the most joyous laugh. I was in awe of her confidence and authenticity. When she looked in the mirror and saw her reflection, she wasn’t looking for anyone else. She genuinely saw herself as gorgeous.

Maggie never questioned or objected to the compliments she received that night—every single time she said thank you, believing that what was said about her was true. She didn’t have an impulse reaction, like I do, to instantly give the compliment back and take the attention off of herself, feeling undeserving of it or assuming that the person is lying.

The day after Night to Shine, I met a woman who had been a missionary in Northern Mexico for a year. The town, primarily being run by drug lords, was quite wealthy and full of what was described as celebrity status women. They had plastic surgery, botox, and were never seen without a full-face of makeup. While attending a workout class, the missionary was asked what plastic surgery she had had done as though it was a given. The workout instructor had brought “fat-eating” shots that were injected into the stomach. The women showed her the bruises on their stomachs where they had previously injected these very questionable shots. I was appalled and disturbed to say the least.

These women spent all of their time consumed with perfecting their outward beauty. I kept thinking, what a brilliant lie of the enemy—to convince women that their worth is found in their appearance so all their effort and energy goes into obsessing over the external. By keeping women fixated with their outside, women have no time to develop their character, talents, and passions that would equip them to serve the world and make a difference in it. The worst part is how easily this lie is believed, becoming all-consuming and pervasive.

A month ago, a 13-year-old girl came to my office nearly in tears as to why she didn’t look like the girls who she saw on Instagram.  While looking down at her body with a look of utter dejection, she said, “I want my body to look like theirs…I want a flat stomach…” I looked at her small body perplexed and alarmed. We clearly were not seeing the same person.

I asked her, “What do you think a body like theirs will give you that you don’t already have?” I wanted her to dive deeper into the reasons for desiring a different body. Although this girl happened to already possess a body similar to the ones represented on social media, I didn’t want to draw attention to this because the problems are in her self-perception and the media’s portrayal of beauty. If I said, “Oh honey, you already have a flat stomach,” I’d be feeding the lie that this was what ultimately mattered and be putting a band-aide on a much deeper issue, one that is both very personal and societal.

I went on to explain that there is a kind of beauty that can’t be seen by the eye, that no Instagram picture could ever capture or convey. Instagram only represents one kind of beauty—one that is narrow-focused and limited to external features. I received a blank stare and several objections as to why this didn’t matter to her. I was discouraged by the girl’s response and inability to see herself as I did, and that what she looks like is of little significance in the long run anyways.

I have been equally as concerned when young girls in larger bodies have reported to me a desire to change their size. Changing their body will never give them what they think it will. Yet, I understand why they feel this way. Being smaller and conventionally attractive in our society does offer many benefits—receiving praise and attention, being treated with greater respect and kindness, and more likely to be given positions of power and authority.

When I find myself comparing my body to someone else and feeling frustrated with how much my body has changed during recovery, I have to ask myself the same question: “What do you think a body like (fill in the blank) will give you that you don’t already have in Christ?” Being in a smaller body will NOT make you feel better about yourself. It CANNOT give you the love, acceptance, security and peace you desire. It never has and never will.

I find this to be true anytime I make physical changes to my appearance—like getting my hair or nails done. I never feel any better about myself, more attractive, more desirable, or more worthy of love. Making changes to the outside doesn’t equate to changes on the inside—that’s a completely different kind of work. The latter requires the courage to engage in deeper parts of my heart, which I don’t like to do because it’s messy, unpredictable and uncomfortable.

I’ve since thought a lot about the beauty represented on Instagram, the media and all forms of entertainment. This beauty highlights certain body parts or facial features, doing so in ways that separate the person from their body. It’s no wonder that we look in the mirror and critique every minor flaw, hyper-focusing on parts instead of a whole being. Yet, I’ve begun to realize this mentality is so contrary to how God created us and sees us. I don’t think God zooms into every so-called “flaw” and thinks of how He’d “correct” it to meet our absurdly narrow and flawed human definition of beauty. That would be ridiculous!

A week or so later I was sent a link to view the pictures from Night to Shine. While looking through them, I felt like the Lord was challenging me to see beauty in a whole new way. None of the images represented conventional forms of beauty, yet every person captured in a limited, two-dimensional image was so incredibly precious and lovely. I thought, “Wow, God must see beauty ENTIRELY differently than we are conditioned to.” Every life is so valuable to Him and He must look at each of these incredible humans with joy and delight, celebrating the ways they uniquely represent Him.

While participating in a Vacation Bible School last summer, there was a lyric in one of the songs that shocked me. The chorus went like, “What do you see when you look in the mirror? What do you see staring at the stars in the night? What do you see? God’s Word is shining the light. Well, I believe that God made me and everything.” I was stunned by this song because it had never occurred to me that God could see me differently than I do and or that He even cared about my self-perception. It’s far too easy to project my distorted views of things onto God. I also hadn’t connected my appearance with the stars in the sky—how both represent God’s creativity and beauty. Maybe how I see myself says something about how I see God, which is why seeing myself correctly is important to Him.

Unlike Maggie, I can’t think of a single time when I’ve been able to look in the mirror and find the person looking back at me gorgeous. When I look in the mirror, I find myself looking for someone else—looking for a face that isn’t mine, a body that couldn’t possibly belong to me. I’m looking for someone who is regarded as beautiful by societal standards, believing the lie that meeting this standard will make me happier and fulfill my deepest longings. When the person I see doesn’t meet this standard, I feel dissatisfied and irritated by her. There’s a discontentment that settles in. Yet an equal sense of frustration arises as to why I care in the first place, knowing that this form of beauty is oppressive and objectifying.

Something I wrestle with is if God even cares about beauty or the outside at all. Or maybe He does but in a much different way than I do or our world does. There was no beauty in Jesus that we should desire Him (Isaiah 53:2), which I have always interpreted to mean that He didn’t meet what society considered beautiful either. Yet, to me Jesus is the most beautiful person I have ever met because He is so full of rich kindness and mercy of a brand that I have never experienced elsewhere.

Perhaps the more I understand what is beautiful to God, the more I’ll be able to emulate Maggie’s confident assurance while looking at my own reflection. Perhaps there is a kind of beauty that God cares about, one that goes much deeper than surface-level, that can’t be seen with the physical eye; one that is timeless and unchanging, rooted in the fear of the Lord. A beauty that says, “I am enough because I was made by God and have been redeemed by His Son, who was entirely sufficient to cover all of the ugliness in my heart with the most radiant purity and light.”