“Hair” He said.

Hair? What did He mean by that?

In a time of asking The Lord to open my eyes to that which I have loved and chased after more than He, He was faithful to reveal things, starting with small and running deep.

This must be a deep thing, I thought, because “Hair” made absolutely no sense to me at all.

I prayed over it for days and like a gust of wind He brought revelation that overcame me.

For years I have toyed with cutting my hair. I only grew it out for my wedding after discovering my dream chignon was not possible without longer locks, even with extensions. So out it grew, leaving behind the spunky pixie that so beautifully embodied my extroverted personality.

And with the length, came confessions of me being, “easier to handle,” “less in your face,” “prettier” and “more graceful looking” with longer hair. From friends and family alike, the remarks flocked in.

My ever present shield of armour guarded my emotions but the wounds ran deep. The words forever swarmed my head and I hid – beneath a blanket of golden locks I didn’t want.

In the quiet of my revelation, my sin unsurfaced…

“You crave the approval of others more than me, child and the acceptance of man your every pursuit.”

I fell to my knees in repentence. Lord forgive me. Change me, please.

With His gentle comfort, He showed me grace and a renewed bravery to fearlessly be me. To stop conforming to this word, seeking their acceptance to the detriment of who I’ve been made to be in Him.

And as with all grate feats it would start with a single step – a simple one of obedience.
For me, it would be the chair of my hairdresser.