I Am Desired

For the LORD has chosen Zion, he has desired it for his dwelling, saying, “This is my resting place for ever and ever; here I will sit enthroned, for I have desired it. I will bless her with abundant provisions; her poor I will satisfy with food. I will clothe her priests with salvation, and her faithful people will ever sing for joy.”

—Psalm 132:13–16

Seven years old and they’d never seen the ocean before.

Which is why, two years ago on a family vacation to California, we spent a full day at Huntington Beach with our littlest children.

With their first glance at the endless expanse of water, my little ones’ eyes widened and they gasped in delight. It took two seconds for them to drop towels and shoes and sprint to the water’s edge.

For two solid hours they giggled and squealed. Running into the surf, then running away, as if the ocean were a pouncing monster. With each venture into the salty water, they grew more courageous, more confident. They splashed and played and laughed until their purple lips and goosebump-covered legs couldn’t take it anymore.

All this time, Mimi—my mom—took pictures. It was quite a sight, seeing these little ones taking in the ocean. We wanted to capture as much of it as we could.

Which was all well and good until I realized her camera was also aimed at me. A fortysomething woman splashing and laughing right along with the littles in her swimming suit.

Somebody save me.

At that moment of realization, I grabbed a towel with one hand and my mother’s digital camera with the other. I scrolled through the files for incriminating evidence. I could not allow my I’m-not-sixteen-anymore body to be captured for all eternity on a JPG file.

Ugh. Not only did my dear mother capture picture after picture of my overly exposed self, nearly every pic was taken from behind and below, as she sat on the sand and pointed her Canon up toward us running in the surf.

Now, friends. We all know the proper way to take a photo. And this is not it.

The appropriate way to take a photo of a woman over the age of twenty is to lift the camera above the head and point down. Ten or twelve feet above, if possible. In that way, she can lift her chin (thus disposing of the baggage) and stretch her neck (again, the baggage). Not only will this angle produce a young and trim face, it will shrink the size of her hips significantly.

Trust me on this. You’re welcome.

I reached for the delete button, sick at what I saw.

My first thought?

How could my husband possibly want a woman like me?

Fast-forward two years and subtract twenty-five pounds. After twenty-four-hour nausea from chemo and radiation, I’d wasted away to skin and bones. Clothes fell off me, skin sagged. A glance in the mirror revealed a gaunt shell of a woman. Pale skin, sunken eyes, swollen cheeks and lips. The body that used to run half-marathons and compete in triathlons showed zero tone and muscle. Everywhere—legs, arms, neck, stomach—scars marked where the surgeons had been.

My first thought?

How could my husband possibly want a woman like me?

Two years and twenty-five pounds separated the two me’s. In neither case did I feel attractive or desirable. Which tells me something: desirability isn’t about size or shape, even if we think it is.

Our culture draws a thick line of connection between appearance and desirability. Those of us who struggle with feeling less than attractive conclude we’re not desirable or wanted. At the same time, there’s nothing wrong with putting a little effort into our appearance. Call me vain, but I enjoy hair highlights and makeup. I like getting a pedicure and dressing in a new outfit. It makes me feel good.

But what about when life strips me bare? Is the unpowdered, unstyled, unpolished, undone me enough?

Psalm 132 talks about God’s choosing of Zion—Jerusalem—as His home with His people. At that time, God’s presence dwelt in the temple, in the Holy of Holies. This was sacred space to God’s people, for they knew His nearness there.

Fast-forward a few thousand years. After Jesus’ death, resurrection, and ascension to heaven, God sent the Holy Spirit, the gift of His presence dwelling in His people. No longer do we need to trek to a temple for His nearness. Now He dwells with us, in us.

Human desire is fickle and never satisfied. It’s based on factors that can change from moment to moment, season to season.

Divine desire, however, is rooted in everlasting love. As a groom longs for his bride, God waits at the front of the room, anxious for the first glimpse of His beloved. He doesn’t see size or shape, height or hair color. He sees love. Ironically, when we finally choose to see Him, rather than ourselves, in the mirror, we’ll end up being far more beautiful than ever before.

My friends Becky Johnson and Rachel Randolph said it well in their book, Nourished: “There’s nothing more beautiful, no more nourishing presence on earth, than a woman who lives loved, who knows her Father calls her Darlin’ and loves to shower her with reminders of His tender caring.”*

There’s nothing more desirable than a woman who already knows she’s desired by a Groom who can’t wait to take her home.

Thou hast made us for thyself, O Lord, and our heart is restless until it finds its rest in thee.

—SAINT AUGUSTINE, CONFESSIONS