The Tainting of Tattoos

 

You know, despite my tattoos...and piercings...and partially shaved head...I never considered that my look was very "alternative". At least not until someone said it was.

I just thought that I was expressing myself in ways I might not have before.

*I* like how I look...and I guess, if I'm being honest, what other people might think just doesn’t really factor into anything I do.

But certainly not in the sense that I expect everyone to love everything about it all. My poor mom dislikes tattoos, my brother makes fun of my hair, and lots of people have said "oh...it's not quite my thing". 

I never expected people to like these things about me the way I like them about me. I am not particularly bothered if it’s not your thing. It doesn't offend me.

I'm not asking you to get a tattoo...or a piercing...or to shave your head. *I* did it because *I* wanted to...you just didn't factor into it.

That being said...I've never been judged so...interestingly, for things about my physical appearance until I made these changes. Almost wholly by other Christians.

I've been told that visible tattoos are unladylike and that I don't deserve to hold down a job with such markings on my body.

I've been told that my shaved head says "a lot" about me and none of it good.

And a nose piercing? Well, I might as well be thumbing my nose at the biblical concept of womanhood. 

Apparently, the way I present myself alludes to the idea that I am in rebellion of the natural feminine design God ordained. 

Apparently, the way I choose to decorate my body reveals that I hate the way God made me.

Apparently, the holes in my body must represent some great moral failing in my life.

Apparently, shaving the side of my head means I no longer identify as feminine.

Nevermind that I find all of these things beautiful about myself...and that I feel increasingly more feminine as times goes on.

Nevermind that the tattoos I got permanently etched into my skin mostly represent gospel truths that literally kept my soul afloat when the darkest of tragedies invaded my life.

Nevermind that I shaved the side of my head because I struggled with hair thinning/loss because of a hormone disorder and this change was one of the first times I felt good about my natural hair in years.

Nevermind that I would have told anyone who asked about these things all about the stories behind them. And I did...to the few people who wondered. Whether out of worry or curiosity. I was/am never offended by questions. Ask away...I'll happily share my story. If you do not agree or just don't like my choices...good for you? Let's just agree to disagree and move on.

But regardless of the negative attention there's also been a lack of attention to these changes that is truly a balm to my soul.

My entire church community has remained, as a whole, completely unbothered by any change to my appearance.

I am very involved in my church. I serve as a women's ministry leader as well as attend all sorts of events and studies. Never once have I ever received any sort of critiscim or concerned questioning from the elders of my church, other people serving, or my fellow congregants. Never. 

No one told me I needed to step down or back away.

No one suggested that my appearance changed how I could serve the church.

No one questioned my commitment to loving and following Jesus.

No one.

I will never forget the way my lead pastor has always seemed wholly unfazed by the way I look. 

Now, don't get me wrong, I'm sure people had thoughts...questions...concerns. Probably more so wondering if I was coping well with the tragedy and trauma than wondering if I was losing my faith. Words wondered behind closed doors. Asked to those who knew me better.

It makes me laugh a bit imagining the elders of my church gathered around and one of them saying "Anyone seen Katharine lately...think that's a thing?'

But let me tell you this...I don't even care.

Because there's no one in my community that I think doesn't have my best interest at heart. No one in my family, or friends, or church that don't just love me and hope the best for me. 

If they wondered (if you wondered)...thank you. And then thank you for seeing me for exactly who I am and moving on...whether or not you like my tattoos or shaved head. Thank you for just allowing me to be who I was...am. 

Because I deeply love my Lord and Savior. 

I have survived this life clinging to the promises of the gospel when my world was drowning in sorrow.

I may look pretty different on the outside...but man...you should see what's changed inside.

My heart is a mosaic of the deepest and most painful scars.

But those scars have healed...having been slowly stitched back together by the wounds of a Savior King.

Each lash Jesus took on His back healed a part of me. 

Until His death brought me life.

You know...I don't think Jesus looked very appropriate when he hung like a criminal on a cross.

Nor did Mary Magdalene look like the paragon of virtue.

Lazarus, I'm sure, had seen much better days.

But...isn't that the very heart of the gospel? That God no longer sees the broken tatters we once were?

He sees the redeemed sinner...the co-heir...the broken made whole. 

A mark, a seal, a tattoo of ownership made on our very souls that change everything.

Jesus himself was once seen as everything wrong with the faith...

But it didn't stop Him from dying the death of a sinner...my death...it should have been my death.

And then He rose from the dead and changed our whole world.

And He washed it white as snow...