True Confession

I've made no bones about my marital track record.  Even before following Messiah in Covenant, I had a certain "code of ethics" regarding fornication, adultery, and marriage.  My "code of ethics" was not according to the Laws of G-d, therefore my "code of ethics" amounted to nothing more than doing what was right in my own eyes.  The Bible calls that sin and my version of it resulted in way too many marriages.  Once I began following Messiah in Covenant, my code of ethics was replaced with obedience to The Word, or at least my understanding and I'm still learning and growing in my understanding.  I'm not fornicating or committing adultery, and even though I am legally married, my husband rejected me years ago, so I am celibate.  In looking back, I've wondered if this has to do with remarriage after divorce.  On to the greater issue, though; and that is one of the recent understandings I've come to is my perception and reason for modesty.

My style of modesty has remained about the same now, for nearly 20 years, but I cannot say it's been based purely on spiritual conviction and Scripture.  Much of my style, appearance, and behavior has sadly been based more upon my low self-esteem than my true spiritual convictions.  This past month, that is changing.  Bringing glory and honor to my Heavenly Father should be primary in every decision I make.  The world sees my outward appearance and as far as I know, there's no evil to be spoken of in my appearance, but Adonai sees my heart.  The truth of the matter is, the motivation behind my dress and behavior needed an upgrade, a serious upgrade!

Slacks and jeans went by the way side in the mid 90s.  I'm not teaching a doctrine here, simply stating I felt slacks took away from my femininity.  That isn't the case for all women, but it is for me.  Then if there is any weight gain or shift, slacks can become "too tight" very quickly, so broom skirts became my style.  I began wearing "over blouses," first for more color, then for a feeling of security in regard to my bosom, and upper arm . . . well "over 40 upper arm."  I do not believe showing some skin on my arms is a sin, and not all of my over blouses are long sleeved, but they all come close to my elbows.  That's the deal though, it's not about covering for modesty, it's about covering my upper arm sag.  One could say that reason is vanity.  I prefer to think of it as "just good policy."  I do not believe a woman must be covered from chin to ankles, as that sounds a lot like a burqa.  Frumpy attire and a prudish appearance are not necessary to bring glory to Abba.  I don't believe it's a sin to dress attractively; as long as one knows the difference between attractive and provocative . . .

Recently, I got over myself!  I may not have a body like Kate Middleton, but I am a princess, nonetheless; and Mr. B's attitude toward me is his issue, not mine.  I am where I am and "it is what it is."  Married to someone who has rejected my beliefs and my body has not been an easy adjustment, but there really is no sorting it out.  Just because the only man who will ever again see my body naked is the coroner, is a choice that is no longer based upon a poor self-image!  I choose to no longer be ashamed of the body my Creator made for me, but to be modest and chaste to bring glory to my Heavenly Father and walk in the anointing He has purposed for me.  

An Interesting Dream

Most of my dreams seem fairly insignificant.  I do have a few that I recognize to be of spiritual significance, but I really don't have all that many memorable dreams.  I do, however; dream in color.  Having now used three sentences to say nothing, let's get to the point.

I dreamed I was speaking to a group of young women.  In the dream I was aware that all of these young ladies had some sort of inferiority complex in regard to their appearance and/or shape.  The group, as I remember, was basically average.  No one was dramatically beautiful or intensely homely.  The young women were not what I would call obese, but all indicated they were not pleased with their weight or their appearance.  They were all in search of "something" that would make them more attractive, which was to be the topic of my presentation.

As I spoke, I produced past photos of myself through the years.  This would be very out of character for me, in that I consistently hated to have my picture taken, always feeling fat and ugly.  With each photo, I gave my age and basic life circumstances at the time.  The presentation was somewhat interactive, so the girls made comments and asked questions throughout.  With each explanation on that trip down memory lane, a different girl would raise her hand to offer some sort of acknowledgement or insight.  It was amazing how many of the girls just couldn't understand why I had such low self esteem in those photos.  I responded with the same question and comment to them.

In the dream I seemed so natural and relaxed, which in and of itself is odd . . . One photo, stood out amongst all the others.  It was a wedding photo in which I was so thin, my complexion was ashen.  They asked me how I felt about myself at that time, and I answered honestly.  It was the one time and last person who made me feel desirable, but . . . I was really sacrificing my health to be that size and more importantly, by then I realized, I was counting on him to make me feel like a woman.  Ultimately, when the new wore off and it was time to just be a couple, I blew it.  He loved me, or at least tried to love me, for who I truly was.  My youth and weight made no difference to him, but my inferiority complex was so deep, I couldn't grasp that.   As I shared that with the girls, they fell contemplatively silent.  I could see their wheels turning.

In sharing the last wedding photo, I shared with the girls that I truly thought I "had it together" spiritually, emotionally, and was physically comfortable in my own skin, until . . . my honeymoon was a disaster and I found myself hanging on by a thread, spiritually.  I clung to Messiah.  Many times over, I found myself quoting the Psalm about the Rock that is higher than I.  Something had to change, and I was obligated to my circumstances.  It would take me a full 10 years to realize my self-image was not based upon how someone else, that man, looked at me.  In 2012, I looked in the mirror, finally happy with the reflection looking back.

As I moved out from behind the podium, I stood there 57 and full figured, and simply stated.  "I like myself the way Abba created me to be.  Being content is beautiful!"