by his wounds we are healed

I am not beautiful.

And that is okay.

This is not to say that I am not pretty. In my own unique way I am, but I have never been nor shall I ever be a stereotypical beauty and that is okay.

Sometimes I like to watch the way that guys interact with the pretty girls. They stumble over themselves for her attention. They quickly become enamored and she either loves it or squirms under their watchful gaze. I think every girl desires to be beautiful at some point. I know that I have, but in the end I notice that what I want more is to simply be known. To have someone see me as more than just a pretty face. Someone who values my opinion, who sees beyond my outward appearance and still finds me beautiful—even when my hair is a mess and my face is wet from crying. Someone who knows the perfect things to make me laugh or the particular smile I give when things are not okay. I want to be known.

But of course, in order to be known (and to subsequently know someone just as intimately) I have to know myself, and I have to know who I am in Christ. A friend and I are starting a series in Ephesians dealing with this exact topic and I do not think it could come at a better time as I have never been more sure of who I am becoming nor more uncertain of who I am.