Last Sunday, our church hosted six baptisms. It was a beautiful service, in which we joined with another church that had asked if they could share our baptismal time as they have no facilities to baptise people. We were delighted to do so. As one of the young people about to be baptised shared their story, I knew I had to ask her afterwards if she would be happy for me to post it as part of the Unmasked: stories of authenticity blog series. I’m so pleased she said yes, as she has a real way with words, and an important message to share…

I started my relationship with God when I was 17. I remember my exact prayer.

“Dear God…what am I doing here? How is this my life? How is this my journey? What do I have to do to change it? Who do I need to become to make sure I am never in this place again? Never this scared again? Never this alone?”

I got my answer from him in one simple word.

Mine.

I promised him on that day that I would try everything in my power to be who he wanted me to be. Who my family wanted me to be. Who I wanted me to be.

And I had no idea what I’d gotten myself into.

Six years later, I thought I’d finally figured it out. That I was finally on my way to knowing exactly who I was and putting that 17-year-old lost girl behind me.

But then it happened. A whisper of a comment about something so trivial no one would ever predict or understand the impact.

“You should let your hair go natural.”

I know. So simple. So un-exciting. But it kept coming up and after a couple months of uncertainty I suddenly got filled with the confidence to do it. So, I cut half my hair off and let my ‘fro-fly-free’ knowing full well it would not look beautiful or curly for probably years.

What I didn’t know was that I was in fact entering a whole new stage of that promise I had made at 17. That what I thought was a simple cosmetic choice was actually a deep dive into who I saw I was versus who God has always seen.

It took a week before it hit me.

A week of looking in the mirror not liking what I saw but constantly trying to reassure myself that “it’s ok, it’s just the beginning of the journey” … “it’s ok, you’ll be beautiful again one day” … A week of trying to get my fringe to stay down instead of sticking out of my forehead like a unicorn horn.

It was a tireless, relentless week of everyday routines I had to do to make sure that my ‘big decision’ didn’t result in my hair breaking apart and falling down around me. Needless to say, by day seven it had all caught up to me in waves. I was crying. Insistently. I thought, “Dear God. What have I done? Why am I suddenly so insecure? Why do I feel so exposed? Didn’t we put that 17-year-old girl to bed and move on?”

And that’s when the truth caught up to me.

It was never really about my hair. This story I’m telling you is not about my hair. It was about recognising the identity I have in Christ and appreciating the beauty in it, not the shame.

God took something he knew was precious to me (my hair), something I didn’t realise defined who I was – made me feel confident, beautiful etc – and gave me the inspiration and encouragement to make it authentic. To stop hiding it, covering it or forcing it into a submissive unhealthy state and to just let it be. To not look at all the damage, all the things that I hate, all the negatives and to focus on what it can be. What it will be if I continue to do all the things I know I need to do to it every day.

God showed me that’s how he sees us. How he sees me. When he looks at me, he doesn’t focus on all the things that are wrong with me. On all my mistakes, on all the things imperfect about me, on all the ways I know I annoy him. He sees who I can be. Who I will be if I continue to keep my focus on him and do all the things I know I need to do, every day.

I am not perfect. I am messy and tangled and frizzy and stubborn and difficult and it’s going to take a lifetime of constant battles, deep treatments, late-night routines and daily regimes before I start to look like the person God sees. But we’ve started the journey now. I made the promise at 17 and now I’m ready to honour that commitment and enter that new stage side-by-side with the person who has never left me. Who has now and always has looked at me, and seen something beautiful. Something worth the trouble.

So, to whoever is reading this, I want you to know. You are beautiful. You have always been beautiful. And you will be beautiful all the days of your life. Because you were fearfully and wonderfully made.

Nicole is a 23-year-old working in a start-up in Croydon with other young 20-year-olds. She says: “Either I have a passion for seeing things grow from the ground up or I am a sucker for pain. Either way, I know my desire to push through high-pressure situations comes from a family background of basketball, performing arts and athletes. I love to write, love to sing, but most importantly, I love being a child of God!”