KATIE POLSKI | CONTRIBUTOR
In C.S. Lewis’ fantasy novel, The Great Divorce, there is a scene where people in hell are offered a bus ride to the mountains, which are symbolic of heaven. The passengers on the bus are all ghost-like figures while their family and friends near the mountains are solid beings, beautiful and non-transparent. One of the ghostly ladies on the bus, dressed very nicely, feels inferior because she is transparent and not as solidly beautiful as the others: “How can I go out like this among a lot of people with real solid bodies? It’s far worse than going out with nothing on would have been on earth. Have everyone staring through me.” [1]
The spirit-narrator looks at the woman with bewilderment as she has just been given the chance to leave hell, and he says to her, “Friend, could you, only for a moment, fix your mind on something not yourself?” But she could not. Overcome with the way others might see her, the woman chooses eternity in hell rather than feel less beautiful than the other bodies in her midst.
Vanity: A False Identity
Vanity is often defined as someone who has an excessive love of themself—an over-the-top, prideful attitude that thinks, “I am the fairest.” Vanity is certainly not less than this. There are many who live in self-admiration of the way they look or in excessive pride over their gifts and talents. The vain person sees no need to give thanks to God when a compliment is received because they believe they are the sole reason for their success; they love themselves more than they do anyone or anything else, let alone the God who created them.
But there is another aspect to vanity that is equally harmful, and that is seen through Lewis’ fantastical illustration. Sometimes, vanity surfaces from deep insecurities over one’s appearance. While seemingly contradictory, a person who is consistently ashamed of their appearance or often worried about how they look in comparison to others is also expressing vanity.
Many women struggle with this in one form or another. Whether we walk around gloating in our beauty, or deliberately drive the bus back to hell to avoid company that causes us to feel outwardly inferior, it is all vanity, and connected to a blurred vision of our true identity as a believer in Jesus.
Our Identity is Not Ultimately Outward
Proverbs 31:30 says, “Charm is deceitful, and beauty is vain, but a woman who fears the Lord is to be praised.” These are likely words we have all heard before, and perhaps have scoffed at them because outward beauty is important to us. Hear these words with the same meaning, but in our modern context: Being attractive is misrepresentative of what is the most important part of who we are.
That outward attractiveness will fade overtime— just ask any woman who has lived into old age. What lasts is the imprint we leave when we put our trust in Jesus, and he becomes the single most important aspect of our life.
I think about Mary who knew what giving birth does to a women’s body, but no one speaks about her stretch marks. She passed down to us an example of what it looks like to wholeheartedly trust in Jesus. I think of Priscilla, a tentmaker, and a woman who helped plant churches. No one talks about her rough hands or leathery skin. She passed down to us an example of what it means for a woman to serve in ministry and to evangelize unabashedly. And I think of Sarah, Abraham’s wife. We don’t reflect on her wrinkled skin from the many years living a nomadic life in Canaan. She passed down to us an example of resilience and unwavering loyalty to her husband.
These women were not perfect, but they trusted in God, and it’s that faith that is remembered, and not their outward appearance.
Our Identity is in Christ
When we look in the mirror, do we ever ask, “Who am I, really?” Do we believe who we are at our core is the face we see there looking back at us? The Bible tells an entirely different story about our identity.
Who we are is not defined by how we look, but by what God has done for us. Sisters, do you hear that? We are who we are because of Christ. To show off our outward appearance for the sake of making ourselves known is a mockery of Christ’s work in us. And to consistently call the reflection in the mirror “not good enough” is to ignore the profound truth that God gave His life for you and for me.
Our identity as believers in Jesus is not found in our outward appearance, but it is in Christ.
Ephesians 1:3-9 lays out the remarkable benefits of this identity: we have every spiritual blessing that Christ does. In his unmatched love, God chose both you and I, and he made us his child. He blessed us by providing a way to have a relationship with him. We’ve been set free from the bondage of sin and shame and have been forgiven of our sins fully and completely. What an identity!
Even more, Jesus has lavished upon us grace upon grace upon grace, so that every time we struggle to remember this identity, there is more grace. When we truly embrace this, we open the floodgates for a waterfall of security and significance that washes over us. To be consumed with ourselves in love or in hate will foster an appetite that’s insatiable. But when we understand that our identity is in Christ, we find lasting satisfaction in who we are.
How do we remain anchored in this truth? Start with reading the Bible. We remain secure in our true identity by knowing Jesus more and more through his treasured Word. Embrace worship. We begin to lose sight of our identity in Christ when we neglect corporate worship. In God’s sanctuary, we are reminded that we are all sinners in need of a savior, that we are saved by his grace, and covered fully by his precious blood. The preaching of the Word and praise-filled worship of Jesus causes us to marvel at the ineffable truth that the God of the universe is mindful of us and cares for us (Psalm 8).
The quality of our life is not the measure of how we look, but in our true identity in Christ who looks on us with love because he called us by name to be his child.
[1] Lewis, C.S., The Great Divorce. Great Britain: Harper One, 1973.
Photo by Kev Costello on Unsplash
