From the Look of Things

A famous couple arrives on the red carpet. He’s dressed to kill. She’s breathtaking in her designer gown. He places his hand on the small of her back while she turns her red lipstick smile toward the camera. They are Cinderella and Prince Charming come to life. Only, a month a later, she files for divorce. What happened? From the look of things, they were so happy.

A charming old house sits on a lovely street, watching people come and go. She’s outlived generations of families, there’s no reason to think she won’t do the same with the ones who buy her next. The freshly paved road makes the neighborhood even more inviting. “She will sell soon,” the realtor thinks. Only that night a terrible storm hits, and a sink hole opens up at the foot of the driveway to the old house. From the look of things, everything was perfect. The reality was different.

A young woman stood on a stage in her cap and gown. Reciting the ode to her high school class, with a golden sash around her neck, she was the picture of success. Though she wasn’t the valedictorian, she had collected her fair share of accolades. From the look of things, she was going places. From the look of things, she had it all together.

Only, I believed those accolades were who I was. Without them, I thought I was nothing.

In our world today, we rely heavily on the “look of things.” We are experts on projecting the right image. We can’t turn on the TV without being told we should paint our walls or our faces. And in between these alluring commercials, we watch TV shows full of people who have been made to look flawless on camera.

Whole industries have been built on the “look of things.” The real-estate bubble burst because people bought big fancy houses they couldn’t afford. And in November, we all voted based on how things “looked” to us because that is all we have been given; curated images.

But the longer I live, the more I want to know what is going on behind the scenes. Not what happened to the latest celebrity couple—no, I want to know the real story of what is going on around and inside of me.

As a high school graduate, I thought I needed to present to the world someone who had it all together. If I did that, I thought I would be loved. Only, I found myself on a treadmill, running a race that never ends. I kept trying to be and do more. Finally, someone told me God called me lovable just as I was, and I better take Him at His Word. It’s funny, because I thought that I needed to change to be loved, but I am finding that believing I am loved has done more transforming work inside of me than I ever was able to do on my own.

Recently, as I have been reflecting on who I want to be in 2017, I find myself drawn not to the external changes I could make, but rather to making sure that I am who I say I am. Instead of focusing on “the look of things,” my heart is calling me inward, to stare who I really am in the face. To give myself grace for where I feel behind on the journey, and to continue to take my broken pieces to the only One who can give me beauty for ashes (Isaiah 61:3).

Much of our lives feel like a search towards wholeness. Yet our culture has taught us to settle for the appearance of it, telling us the real thing will never come. What I am finding though is that wholeness is found in the very last place we’d ever want to look—in our brokenness and vulnerability. It is here, Jesus most wants to meet us to bring restoration.

So, as we come off of another award ceremony dedicated to people who appear to have everything together, will you consider joining me and going another way? Will you choose to seek after a life that isn’t whole just “from the look of things?”