Messy Buns
Messy Buns
by Shannon Janico
On Sunday mornings, I rebel. I set an alarm clock dangerously late, ensuring a scramble of a morning, and an annoyed comment from punctual Jordan about seats.
Alarm rings. 8:15. 8:20. Whatever. 8:32, okay?
There is freedom in my messy bun. Rebellion in my make-up less face (minus Bobbi Brown’s sand concealer, but that is a necessary to protect children from seeing the dark holes under my eyes).
I purposely breathe deep the smell of my revolt as I pull on the comfiest sweater I own and trap the dragon of the coffee breath that bounces back to me greet me under the tent. I hobble to my shoes, feeling brave enough to rock the only pair of slightly hipster booties I own, not caring if they match or look absolutely ridiculous. They look awesome.
Journal in hand, no Bible in the other, there is an energy to my exit. A sass in leaving my dirty dish on the kitchen counter, something that irks me Monday to Saturday.
Sundays, I am done. I am done with the hair straightening, image preserving exhaustion, professionalism that eats my time.
You want me, God? Well, here I am.
I love the 21st century non-domination Christian culture that has recently emerged. The rawness that yells “come as you are.” The furry vests, the ripped jeans, the black on black. Yes, the tight leather jeans may be a bit distracting to all the boys and girls trying to navigate purity, but hey, it is raw.
Wearing what you want, as imperfect and scrambled as you are gives me oxygen. I can breathe deeper. My worship is airier, more free, less “me.” If my hands are raised, who cares because no one recognizes makeup-less me anyway, right? Heck, I don’t even recognize me.
Perhaps the underling anger stems from me being angry at myself. Angry that I conform to society’s message that you have to look perfect to feel good. To perform well. To make a difference. That if I forgot eyeshadow, my students would somehow see how imperfect the lessons are from their imperfect teacher struggling to teach them. How stupid that a single line of black powder on my eyelid would both give me confidence and destroy my confidence (as it did once when my makeup drawer was jammed, and I almost broke my wrist trying to break it open…).
The Bible says a lot about beauty and confidence. Some things I wish it wouldn’t say because I am currently wearing gold earrings, and I adore nothing more than those bejeweled J.Crew necklaces that make wearing a casual sweater “professional.”
“Your beauty should not come from outward adornment, such as braided hair and the wearing of gold jewelry and fine clothes. Instead, it should be that of your inner self, the unfading beauty of a gentle and quiet spirit, which is of great worth in God’s sight.” 1 Peter 3:3-4.
If I truly trusted that, I would taste the freedom that Sundays unlock on Mondays. On Tuesdays. The freedom that Sundays ask me to behold. Beaconing me from the quiet corners of a church pew, whispering to me that the Holy Spirit brings gentleness, goodness, faithfulness, peace, love, patience, kindness, and self-control.
If I would just shut my eyes and block out the jingle from my necklace, I may be able to hear.
“The Lord does not look at the things man looks at. Man looks at the outward appearance, but the Lord looks at the heart.” 1 Samuel 16:7 It reads on.
“Charm is deceptive, and beauty is fleeting: but a woman who fears the Lord is to be praised.” Proverbs 31:30
Lord, I have no idea what it means to fear you. Teach me to exalt you over my image preserving and self-obsession. Lord, give us all a courage to give the time and energy we spend covering our “imperfections” to uncover our real wounds for the sake of your children and Kingdom.
Taste the freedom this week. Rebel from yourself. Shift your eyes upward. Inward. Outward. Rock the messy bun because the only person who cares is you.
Founder of Heaven Bent Women, Shannon Janico loves her amazing husband Jordan, middle school kids, yoga, and writing to bring more people to Jesus.