Christian Living

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I was born with a red birthmark on the left side of my face—a mark that was impossible to miss when I was a little girl. From an early age, I became the target of cruel taunts from other children. Some mockingly claimed my mother had slapped me with a red spoon. Others sneered that I was a red-faced monster. One relative, perhaps attempting to comfort me, only made things worse by saying my face looked like a map with two colors.

But the most devastating remark came from someone who should have known better—a teacher. One day, as she handed back test papers, she casually called out, "Red Face, come and get your test paper." Her words cut deeper than any insult I had ever endured.

These painful experiences convinced me that I was hideous—so ugly, in fact, that I must have been the missing link between man and the Hunchback of Notre Dame! I was miserable. Some days were unbearable. I carved out a small spot of consolation between my dresser and closet, where I held secret pity parties, pouring out my pain and asking God why He had made me so ugly.

I became painfully shy. In my eyes, everything about me—my face, my big teeth—was just outright ugly. I had no idea that I had fallen for one of the enemy’s cruelest deceptions. Like Eve in the Garden of Eden, I had believed a lie.

This belief followed me into intermediate school. My parents had sent me to a mixed boarding school, but I struggled terribly to socialize. I avoided boys like the plague. Most of them assumed I was a snob, but the truth was, I was simply terrified that they would laugh in my face and confirm what I already believed—I was ugly.

Even when my parents showered me with constant compliments, calling me beautiful and ladylike, I dismissed their words as mere sympathy. I thought they were just being nice.

Then, one day, everything changed.

By the time I got to college, the truth finally hit me like a bolt of lightning. I realized that I wasn’t ugly at all. In that moment, I grabbed the devil’s lie, flung it back at him, and left it plastered on his shameless face—never to pick it up again!

Ever since that day, I have chosen to believe the report of the Lord. I am fearfully and wonderfully made in His image. I am one of the beautiful daughters of the Lion of the Tribe of Judah, and His glory is all over me!

Dear brother and sister in Christ, whose report do you believe concerning the sensitive areas of your life?

Until next time, stay blessed.


May E. Oyairo
www.mannaxpress.com

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