From the time I was a little girl, I have loved fingers in my hair.
I’ve always loved the feel of someone washing and conditioning my hair at the salon. When my hair was long, I loved having it brushed and played with. Any time I hold a little girl on my lap, I find myself running my fingers through her hair.
God is reworking things in my heart lately. Showing me things about myself that need changing. Revealing things that need healing. While sitting in church yesterday, I got a very clear, though random, picture of how God approaches me when working through these things. It was a strange analogy but so clear that I had to write about it…
Curl Up and Dye. That was the name of the salon I always went to. The only Person that I would trust with my tresses.
I was sitting in the waiting area reading a magazine, catching up on the gossip of the week and other mindless nonsense. I knew why I was here. My hair was a wreck. Needed thinning. The ends were damaged. My roots were showing. A hot mess. But it was hard to sit still and wait for what I knew was going to be a long process. I had things to do, places to go and people to see. I fidgeted in my seat, my jumpy legs twitching, and read about another LiLo escapade.
“Jana!” He didn’t put it in question form as most service givers would. He declared my name when He said it. And He was excited about it as if He were happy to see me, as if He were looking forward to working with my mangy mess. He came and took my hand to help me up and led me to his chair. I sat down as He covered me with a cape and faced me toward the mirror so that we could both see what He’d be working with. Not pretty.
As He ran His fingers through my hair, they were sticking in the places where tangled nests had formed. I tried to explain them away. He smiled and said, “We’ll take care of that.” The lights surrounding the large mirror revealed the dullness of my color. It had turned flat and lifeless, my gray roots reminding everyone that I wasn’t born yesterday. He suggested some color ideas and His eyes danced at the thought of bringing something dead back to life.
My hair that now resembled a bad hat on my head was too thick, too long. There was no shape to it. The ends were split, the roots were gray. The color was drained. And then there was THAT hair. That crazy little grouping of hair that would not stay put. I had tried and tried to comb it down by wetting it, drowning it with product, but to no avail. Those hairs had a mind of their own that went against the regular flow of the rest of their peers.
It was obvious that He wasn’t going to leave things in their current condition. He was interested in health and vitality and beauty, none of which was going on on that crown of mine. But He didn’t seem discouraged or overwhelmed by the job before Him. Just determined.
Once again, He extended His hand toward me and accompanied me to the washing bowl. As I sat down, He began running the water, bringing it to a temperature that He could work with and I could tolerate. Gently, He brought my head backward into the sink and began to work His magic of washing. The warm water poured over the mass of hair that had too long been neglected. With His fingers, He began massaging and working the lather of shampoo through my hair. The heaviness of sticky hair product began to lift and I could sense the gunk and goo gurgling down the drain. Already, my head felt lighter. I could hear the squeak as He squeezed the water out of my hair indicating its cleanliness.
I began to lift my neck from the sink but He said to me, “Be still. We’re not done yet.” He explained to me that it was not enough just to get my hair squeaky clean. It also needed to be conditioned. The fragrance of cool peppermint permeated the air as the conditioner began its work of softening and strengthening. Those split ends would close their yappy little mouths as they drank in the nourishment. Healthy hair was on its way.
Wrapping a warm towel around my head, my Miracle Worker ushered me back to the cutting chair. What was coming next had the potential of being frightening. What if too much was cut? What if the style didn’t suit me? But once again I was getting ahead of myself. He wasn’t ready to cut yet. He pulled out His brush and comb and began running it through my hair. This was to remove any tangles and reveal my hair for what it actually was before cutting it. I could feel the comb stop as it neared a roadblock. There was a slight pull and then the comb continued through the hair smoothly. The conditioner had prepared the way. It had strengthened the hair for the removal and softened the tangle to be removed.
Clean and conditioned and detangled hair. Still wet. Still shapeless, colorless, but ready.
Shears in hand, He began the cutting process. He didn’t ask what I wanted. By the looks of things when I came into the salon, I had no idea of style. He had worked on my head all my life. He knew me. He knew my hair better than I knew it myself. He knew what would best suit me. What would be best for me. What would make me lovely and a good walking advertisement of His work. And so instead of asking my opinion, He began working on what He seemed to approach as His next great masterpiece.
Snip. Chop. Shear. Great pieces of hair falling to the ground and forming an ugly nest type mess on the floor. He was cutting hair off, thinning hair out and completely reshaping it into a new style. Dead ends were dropping. Once again, I was sensing a new sense of lightness . He had turned me from the mirror so that I wouldn’t know exactly what He was doing. So that I wouldn’t be scared at the new image. He wanted me to trust His hands to create something beautiful. My gut felt the twisting of a combination of both fear and excitement. But I knew these hands would not disappoint.
The hair dryer came out next. The warm air circling around my head, bits of hair flying everywhere. He pulled out His round brush and used the heat and the shape of the brush to bend and shape the hair.
Everything in me wanted Him to turn the chair around and let me see the progress. But He reminded me that we had some roots to take care of – some color to tend to. “Patience, child!” He teased. And so began the process of foiling my hair and feeling a little like a ridiculous outer space alien. Each piece of hair carefully painted and then protected with bits of foil. Then the sitting and waiting for the color to take hold. To take what was and make it better. To brighten and add life to something dull.
Finally the processing was done and the color was ready. One more rinse, one more comb, one more dry. It was time. He turned me around to look in the mirror. What I saw nearly took my breath away. He had transformed me. I looked like a different person. And I loved what I saw! He had worked His magic on me.
But as He began removing my plastic cape, I saw it. Those crazy hairs. Those hairs that wouldn’t stay down with the rest. They had taken the color okay. But they were no closer to lying down or blending in than they were when I first came in. They were still springy and obstinate. I looked at Him and pointed at my head. “What about this?” I asked. “You didn’t fix it.”
And then I saw a look on His face that I’d never seen before. The smile of a teacher whose student has just had the “aha” moment that they’ve been waiting for. “I will never fix those,” He said. “They don’t need fixing. Those are On Purpose hairs. Unique only to you. They are meant to stand out and be seen. They are part of who you are and what makes you, you. Don’t fight them. Work WITH them. Enhance them. But don’t ever try to fix them. They aren’t broken. They are beautiful.”
This was not the answer that I expected. I had always hated those hairs. But as I returned my gaze to the mirror, their image changed in my eyes. Instead of just springy, they looked happy. They no longer appeared obstinate, but feisty. They weren’t just strong-willed, but full of personality. They might not lie down with the rest of my hair, but they weren’t meant to.
For everything He gave me, He asked for nothing. Except to pass on His name to others and and to be a living testimony to the magic of His work. Word of mouth advertisement. I promised Him that I and my On Purpose hair would do just that.
Wanna Curl Up and Dye?
I hope you can see the analogy of how Jesus works in our lives and performs His magic on us. He transforms through gently washing and conditioning our hearts to ready them for cutting off the dead ends and tangles of things that hold us back. Things that rob our lives of their natural beauty. And after everything has been cut away and health is what remains, He adds vibrant color. Life and vitality! Those things that He has uniquely designed in us – our wild hairs – he wants us to use and celebrate as a part of who He created us to be. And then He sends us out to show others what He’s done for us and what He can do for them. We are His business card…
Philippians 1:6 – And I am certain that God, who began the good work within you, will continue his work until it is finally finished on the day when Christ Jesus returns.
Colossians 3:9-10 – …since you have taken off your old self with its practices and have put on the new self, which is being renewed in knowledge in the image of its Creator.
2 Corinthians 3:18 – And we, who with unveiled faces all reflect the Lord’s glory, are being transformed into his likeness with ever-increasing glory, which comes from the Lord, who is the Spirit.
