Earlier today, I was driving home. It was just after noon, and I had a straight stretch of I-35 ahead of me. Music was playing at just the right volume, the road was clear ahead of me, and I felt filled with the possibility of everything.
This year, I didn’t read all the books I wanted.
There was a moment before I clicked play and after I yelled in excitement in which I wondered, “Why?”
I keep hearing these phrases, over and over again, like they’re coming from that person in kindergarten who thought it was so funny to poke people with pencils and see the lead underneath their skin.
“Oooh, looks like she got some work done.”
“Why did she do that to her face? She looked good before.”
“There’s no way that’s her real butt. It’s gross.”
Well, just like 5-year-old me, I’m tired of people stabbing others.
Excuse me, why are you using the black thumbs up emoji if you are, in fact, quite white?
A few months ago, a really good friend challenged me to use this platform to talk about identity and specifically how our perception of ourselves differs from how Christ sees us and consequently, how we should see ourselves.
Never before has the question “How was your break?” been so exciting to answer.