Beauty Departments, Language Barriers, and God Saw It Was (More Than) Good

Beauty.

Like most women, that's one of those words that's haunted me for most of my life.

Beauty products...
Beauty queens...
Beauty school...
Beauty magazines...

You turn on the TV and there's a bombardment of ads telling you to buy so-and-so's beauty enhancer from so-and-so's beauty department. You go to Barnes & Noble and there's an entire isle dedicated to books with titles like "How To Be the Most Beautiful You" and "Beauty Tips for Dummies." Young girls enter contests to see who has the most beautiful walk, the most beautiful talk, the most beautiful face. Scholarships are even given to the most beautiful winner. Magazines. Blogs. Grocery stores. Commercial breaks. Even Facebook... Everywhere we look there is a constant bar being raised, a silent question being asked between the stocked rows of lipsticks: Are you beautiful enough?


The world tells us we're not, no matter how hard we try, and even if we happen to reach the nearly impossible goal of being a "beautiful person," the world tells us that it's only temporary, and our privileges of being members of that category are revoked upon achieving old-age.
"Because," The World scoffs, "Old-age is definitely not beautiful. Ask any anti-wrinkle advertiser."

I find this ironic, because it was a very old, very wrinkly, hunch-backed, no-English-speaking Japanese woman who showed me otherwise.

In my 22 years, I've struggled with the same love-hate relationship with my body that seems to be an epidemic in our society. Like most young girls I wondered if I was good enough, doubted that I was pretty enough, wrestled with insecurities, and managed to find more things I didn't like about myself than those I liked. Growing up I felt awkward about my no-so-flat stomach, not-so-small chest, and not-so-tall body. I looked longingly at the small-chested, six-packed, slender-legged bikini models hoping, wishing, and doubting that I'd someday look that "beautiful" too. Twenty-two years, despite the remarks from loved ones about how beautiful they saw me, I looked on my body in disdain. Twenty-two years, I wished for a different shell - hoped for a different physic - dreamed of a me that was, in my mind, "more beautiful" than the me I had. Twenty-two years, I believed the lie that beauty is something to be striven for, rather than something that just is.

But a couple weeks ago, all that changed.

Well... I suppose the change started with my walk with God, but honestly it took YEARS for me to actually accept the truth that I had been made the way I am, exactly the way I am, for a divine reason. That same exact sentiment was probably printed on your coffee cup this morning, but just because you drink out of it doesn't mean it's a fundamental truth you really believe. So, after years of hearing "God made you exactly the way you are" I finally believed it about three weeks ago while visiting a friend in Japan.
I woke up that morning, looked in the mirror, and started thanking God for all the things about myself that He had given me - even the things that, in the past, I had hated.
"Lord, thank you for these freckles."
"Lord, thank you for my curves."
"Lord, thank you for this skin you've given me."
And the best part was I actually meant it. For the first time - ever - I was truly thankful for the body I had been given. I wish I could describe to you the freedom that followed, or the warm sensation I felt in my chest, or how I walked around that day lighter than the years before, like a massive load had been lifted off my back, but I just don't have the right words.
About an hour later I reached a crosswalk on my way to meet some friends and I became so overwhelmed with the presence of God that I almost fell over. There was a little, old, Japanese lady beside me, doubled-over with age and shining bright blue eyes waiting to cross the same street. While caught up in surprise at the presence of the Holy Spirit, she tapped me on the shoulder, looked up at me with a brilliant, wrinkly smile and said, "Ka-wah-ee!"
Pointing to my face, she said it again, "Ka-wah-ee! Ka-wah-ee!"
Patting her face, then pointing to mine, definitely implying I'm talking about your face.
I looked back at her with a puzzled expression, fumbled around the scarce Japanese I knew - telling her "You're welcome" rather than "Thank you" and then correcting myself, while definitely implying I'm sorry I'm an American and I don't know what you're saying.
I knew that this exchange wasn't an insult. The smile on her face was too warm, the look in her eyes was too soft, and the feeling growing in my heart was too good to be born of harsh words. Without knowing the details, but somehow knowing something deeper, I managed to sincerely tell her thank you before parting ways at the other side of the street. The woman continued to smile as she hobbled away, and I continued on my path not knowing exactly what I'd just encountered.

I found out later that ka-wah-ee is Japanese for beautiful.

I asked God later, Why? Why did she say that? Why me, when there are a million other young, pretty girls walking around?
And I heard Him answer, Because you are.

I believe that this woman was a gift to me from God for finally accepting who I am. It was icing on the cake, the closing chapter of a book, the cherry on top - to the morning of revelation I received about being thankful for who I am.
It was like Papa God saying Good job, little one. Like Jesus saying I love you! You truly are beautiful! And like the Holy Spirit saying I'm here!
All at the same time.

And it reminded me of the pure, holy, agenda-free love our God has for His people, His Bride.

The entire book of Song of Solomon speaks the love story of God and His Bride - His love story to us.
Though it's only eight chapters long, you could spend an entire lifetime peeling back the layers of revelation of His love in between the words. He says of us You are altogether beautiful, my darling, and there is no blemish in you. (Sgs 4:7) and He also says How beautiful you are, my darling, How beautiful you are! You're eyes are like doves behind your veil... (4:1)
And then later He says Who is this that grows like the dawn, as beautiful as the full moon, as pure as the sun, as awesome as an army with banners? Referring to us, His church, walking in the fullness of what we have been given.
These are just a few examples of how He lavishes his love for us in written word. The rest of the book He talks about the beauty of His Bride, and the Bride responds, rattling off all kinds of detailed characteristics of our beautiful God.

I also found out recently that the bible translated from the original Aramaic texts (which is the language Jesus spoke when He walked the earth) reads the word "beautiful" instead of the word "good" when talking about creation in the first chapter of Genesis.

So instead of saying And God saw that it was good. It says:

And God saw that it was beautiful.


Which speaks a lot more to me about the love He has for his creation.

He says we are beautiful.
We are ka-wah-ee.

So my question is: If God is so adamant about telling us how beautiful we already are, why is it we feel like we have to become more beautiful? Besides, wasn't God the original creator of beauty in the first place?

And what exactly was it that woman saw that was beautiful? I know Asian culture really loves American features. It's a fad there to get plastic surgery on their eyes to "look more American" - something I find saddening and a little bit creepy because it makes them look like porcelain dolls - So was it my actual facial features, or did that woman see something more? Was she really seeing my face or was she seeing something beyond my skin? And was it just coincidence that it happened to be the first day I've ever loved the body I've been given?

Well. I don't know all the answers, but I do know God well enough to know not to believe in coincidence.

Contrary to her culture and social norm (the Japanese are known for not being sociable people), this woman reached out to me - a total stranger - just to tell me I'm beautiful.
With no agenda.
Nothing, not even a single word, expected in return. Simply out of the pure intent of wanting me to know, she took a moment out of her day to tap me on the shoulder and change my life forever.

And, that, to me, is beautiful.