What Do You See When You Look In The Mirror?

Written by Tiffany Stuart
(contributing writer from Tea With Tiffany)

How long does it take you to get ready in the morning? I used to primp for two hours straight. Drove my parents crazy! I felt better about myself after I curled or straightened my hair, put on makeup, and found just the right pair of jeans and t-shirt.

My 120 “mirror-minutes” had nothing to do with hair brushes, mascara, or brand names jeans. It was deeper. I desperately wanted to mask my insecurities.

I didn’t like my blonde eyelashes, fair skin, weight, shoe size, or my small chest. If a friend complimented my eyes, I’d think, Yeah right, you’ve never seen them without mascara. When I compared myself to air-brushed models, movie stars, or even my friends, I never measured up. No amount of makeup, exercise, or dieting transformed me into my ideal image.

Warped View

Have you ever stood in front of one of those funhouse mirrors? You either look like a flamingo—all legs—or you morph into a squatty, box turtle. We laugh at our out-of-proportion self, but the reality is many of us see ourselves this way everyday. And that’s not funny.

For example, instead of seeing my mostly straight teeth, I zoom in on my couple crooked ones. Instead of seeing my hazel eyes, my only pimple stands out like Mount Acne. Whatever I don’t like expands; the rest shrinks. Sound familiar?

Sounds distorted.

Is your mirror your friend or enemy? Answer honestly.

Think about this, not all mirrors are bad. Interior decorators use mirrors to create an illusion of a bigger space. Mirrors can be helpful or even save us from accidents. My car alone has five mirrors. The rear view mirror and two side mirrors are for my safety. A stranded hiker can be rescued by flashing a mirror.

There are even Scriptures about mirrors. The definition of a mirror is a surface capable of reflecting light. Reflecting light? Interesting! Jesus is considered the light of the world.

So how can we change the way we see ourselves in a mirror?

By spending more time looking through God’s mirror. His Word.

God’s Mirror

God’s mirror has no goopy hairspray residue, better known as media influences. The Bible offers the clearest image of me. Without distortion. The more I seek His truth about who I am, the better off I am when I struggle with my reflection.

Genesis 2:27 says we are made in His image. God’s image is truly amazing! His character includes love, joy, kindness, gentleness, self-control, and so much more. As a Christian, we have His Spirit living in us. That’s beautiful.

Reflecting Glory

How do you feel about your face in the mirror? 2 Corinthians 3:18 says “we with unveiled faces all reflect the Lord’s glory are being transformed into his likeness with ever-increasing glory,” Notice the word all. If you’re a believer, you reflect God’s glory. Period.

Wow, I need to focus on that, not my physical flaws.

Notice how Isaiah describes Jesus in Isaiah 53:2b: “He had no beauty or majesty to attract us to him. Nothing in his appearance that we should desire him.” This amazes me. We sing songs about the beauty of the Lord and yet Jesus wasn’t good looking. Hmm? So when we sing we must mean something else. His beauty runs deeper than the surface or skin. His beauty is found in who He is at heart.

Heart Beauty

The best part is His beauty lives inside you! Yes, you! 1 Samuel 16:7b (NIV) says, “The LORD does not look at the things man looks at. Man looks at the outward appearance, but the LORD looks at the heart."

When was the last time you looked at your heart?

“But you don’t know my heart. I’m jealous. I’m angry all the time. I’m depressed. I want to hurt someone. Myself included.”

Wait a minute. Please be gentle with yourself. God knows you completely and he doesn’t reject you. He loves you. After all, you are His design.

I love Psalm 139. It reminds me of my real identity. My physical appearance is part of God’s design. He formed me in my mother’s womb. God knows my every thought. I guess that means He can handle my uglies. Yours too.

Am I saying don’t care about your looks? Not at all. I’m suggesting that you focus the beauty of God’s heart living in you more than your face and body.

Ever read an obituary that said, “She had perfect skin and a ‘ten’ figure?”

Me neither.

Obituaries focus on the heart. What did the person contribute to society? What did she love? Who did she serve? Think about Mother Teresa. She lived her life ministering to the poor, orphaned, sick, and dying. But she was ordinary looking. She had a big nose, wrinkles, and she dressed different. Yet her beautiful heart marked history.

Mirror Minutes

Here’s a challenge. The next time you’re getting ready in front of your mirror, reflect on what God sees. No more distorted views, okay? I’ve learned to post Scriptures where I need them most. On my mirror. Gazing at who God says I am has helped me learn to love and accept myself. Even with those extra few pounds.

So grab a pen and a sticky note. Here’s your first mirror message: I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made. Psalm 139:14
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Accepting God's Limitless Love

Written by Guest Author: Tiffany Stuart

Cross Posting from Ungrind

Dating John was an adventure. He sang Elvis' Love Me Tender to me in restaurants. He pulled me to the nightclub dance floor when no one else was dancing. Once we met at a steak house and pretended we were on a blind date. We role-played the entire meal and the waiter believed us. Not knowing what came next with John captivated me.

Until—the day my period was late.

I drove to the pregnancy center—alone. After peeing in a plastic cup, I waited in a chilly exam room. When the nurse returned, she said, "The test is positive." She paused. "Do you know what you want to do?"

"I'm keeping the baby." She checked the box "continue pregnancy," recommended an OB-GYN, and suggested prenatal vitamins.

I'm going to be a mom. Me—a mother. I'm not ready.

I left in shock. Missing a couple birth control pills had consequences. I imagined a wedding, buying a house, and what our sweet baby would look like.

John and I will live happily ever after—after I tell him our news.

"I love you, Tiffany. Now is not the right time. I'm sorry," John said as he hugged me. "I'll pay for the abortion. Some day we'll do things right. Get married and have babies. I'm not ready."

"Do you think I'm ready? I didn't plan this. But I'm not having an abortion. I'm keeping our baby. I'll raise him alone. I don't care."

I left John's apartment crying. John will change his mind with time. What if he doesn't? What will happen to us?

Over the next week, John and I talked on the phone. We ate dinner together once and acted like nothing happened. We didn't discuss our baby. We kissed and said our goodnights.

When I got home, I couldn't take the silence anymore, so I called him.

"What are you thinking about my pregnancy?"

"Same thing, I'm not ready."

Heartbroken, my mind buzzed: If I keep the baby, John will leave me. I don't want to be a single mom. Who will love me with someone else's child? Will our baby grow up fatherless? I don't want to be alone. I love John too much to lose him.

Against everything I believed—I made an appointment.

Numb, I arrived for my scheduled abortion, filled out paperwork, met with a consultant, and took another pregnancy test. John waited in the lobby.

As I lay on my back with my knees up, I tried to block out the suction sounds of the machine. This "outpatient procedure" was more than I could emotionally handle. I closed my eyes. It didn't help. I'll be OK. I’m doing this to protect the baby from the heartache of a broken family. The fetus isn't alive. It's not an "official" baby yet.

I knew better.

Afterwards, John greeted me with a smile and affection. Every ounce of love I had vanished. I was furious. How could the man I love choose death? I made the biggest mistake of my life. If this is what love is—I don't want it.

"How are you feeling?"

"Fine. Just a little crampy."

What kind of person chooses to kill an unborn innocent child?

My kind.

Me.

I was the worst of murderers. John, my accomplice. I hated myself. I hated John.

That day, I promised myself: Never again will anyone tell me what to do with my life, my body. I will choose my own path.

I distanced myself from John. Within a couple months, he showed up at my work and asked, "Will you marry me?" No engagement ring in hand—just a dozen red roses.

"Sorry. I can't." It was too late. Too much pain. Too much past.

Moving beyond my abortion wasn't easy like I hoped. But I pretended it was. The following year, I married Derek. Within six years, we had two children. A boy and a girl. Perfect. I worked in property management, enjoyed promotions, and an out-of-state transfer to Colorado. A fresh start. New friends with no memories of my past.

After two years, I left my career to become a stay-at-home mom. I attended church and women's Bible studies. My kids participated in school, playgroups, and sports. I kept busy planting flowers and decorating our first home. I tried my best to forget what is behind (Philippians 3:13). But predators named "Shame" and "Guilt" lurked in the corners of my mind.

One night my facade ripped to shreds. In my small group, my two friends and I shared our answers from our Bible study lesson. The question was to share about a time when God spoke personally to us. My friends told a couple stories each. Devastated, I said nothing. God didn't speak to me. I knew why. When asked to explain, my abortion experience spilled out. I sobbed. My friends comforted me with a prayer and hugs.

Now my Christian friends know who I really am: a baby killer.

Even after twelve years, I still couldn't forgive myself. I felt like I committed the unforgivable sin. I was sure God was appalled with me too.

I withdrew from people. I stopped attending my small group. I made excuses to miss my four-year-old daughter's weekly playgroup. I no longer strolled down my dirt road to talk to my girlfriends.

I hid, cried, journaled, read my Bible, and prayed. God, why haven't I ever heard your voice like my friends have? Am I being punished?

After a couple weeks of seclusion from friends, God spoke to me personally from his Word.

"If we confess our sins, he is faithful and just and will forgive us our sins and purify us from all unrighteousness." 1 John 1:9

As much as I wanted to sentence myself to a life of imprisonment, I wanted freedom more. I hated being stalked by Shame and Guilt. If the Creator of the universe forgives me when I confess, then I can forgive myself too.

Lord, please forgive me for killing my unborn child. I'm so sorry. Take Guilt and Shame away from me. Grant me peace.

As weeks went by, I continued to seek truth and healing. I read Romans 8 and when I read verse 39 one word stuck out to me.

"For I am convinced that neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons, neither the present nor the future, nor any powers, neither height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord" (emphasis mine).

Not even the death of an unborn child separates me from God's love.

My view of God changed that day. I fell in love with Him again. I realized God isn't out to punish me; He's out to love me.

Period.

My healing is an ongoing process. Some days I feel such freedom. Other days, I fight my predators, fending them off with the truth of God's Word. Whether high or low, I'm discovering the greatest adventure I've ever known. The adventure of God's limitless love.

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Tiffany Stuart is a freelance writer, speaker, and stay-at-home mom of a ten-year-old daughter and a fourteen-year-old son. Her passion to see women free from their past failures and walking in the truth of God's love. She and her family live in Colorado. She enjoys blogging at her blog, Tea With Tiffany and her group writing blog, The Writing Road.