My mirror is literally on the wall. I guess this is a problem every girl in America and all over the globe has: Our appearance.

You know, it’s not even about thinking we’re ugly at this point. Deep down, I think we just don’t like our body because we don’t like ourselves. You can be a beauty queen and feel ugly. Because you want to have true beauty on the inside. One of my grandmothers was a model in her day, another one was a stewardess; now, even in their seventies, they still hang on to the memories of that, they still want to be beautiful.

And the reason the mirror is our enemy is because we’ve put a curse on it. Whenever we look into it we are looking for the flaws in our outfit or our make-up. It’s gotten so bad I think even the guys have caught it now.

It’s really captured pretty well in this song “Mirror, mirror, on the wall; have I got it? ‘Cause mirror you’ve always told me…who I am. I’m finding it’s not easy to be perfect. So sorry, you won’t define me.”

How is it that we can hear we are beautiful, pretty, smart, nice, and talented; again and again, and we still don’t believe it?

I’ll tell you one reason, we’re afraid. The song “Let it go!” was an instant hit. I have listened to it probably hundreds of times. And it’s not the music, which is nice, but not really my style. (Though I love the piano portion in the beginning.) It’s not even the cool animation or catchy tune. What grabbed me about the song was the mingling of beauty and being fearless. In the book of 1 Peter in the new testament, verses 3-6, Peter gives women some beauty advice, not to rely on gold, hairstyles, and fancy clothes; but on the inner person of the heart, on having a gentle and quiet spirit; which is precious to God. Later he says not to give way to fear. To give way means to let fear run its course in you life and not resist it, to give in. You can like jewelry (I do) and nice clothes, but the trap is liking them for the wrong reason. (Like because they’re popular.) Not that popularity makes something bad, but is it popular with people you respect? Looking like a fashion model is fine if you respect fashion models, but do you? It’s not wrong to imitate how someone else looks, a little bit, but it is wrong to try to become that person. The mirror tells you anything unique to you has to be ugly or boring because it’s you. The mirror always tells you to change what it’s hardest to help. (Like the shape of your face, what else is contouring for?) The mirror tells you you’re not thin enough. (Define thin enough, different weights are appropriate for different people.) But it’s never enough change to make you feel pretty, or hot, or stylish.

Often true beauty is something people talk about but don’t believe in enough to risk trying it. And it is risky. I fell like no one tells us the price. The price is that no one may notice, no one may commend you for trying to be more natural and to be yourself. The price is that you have to choose to lay aside the standards of the world, all of them. The price is that people may think you’re weird for being confident. The price also is that if you don’t meet the regular standards of beauty not everyone will think you’re pretty. But it is so worth it to know that you are beautiful.

I think we need to get a little attitude with the mirror and tell it off when we’re feeling ugly. But I truly believe only God can fix the thing in our hearts that makes us doubt. I’ve never been able to cure myself of it, only God ever breaks through. Though self talk is important. So, beauty is inward, and it is a belief and an attitude. Not a look or a number on the scale.

I’m still going over The Hiding Place. The principles I want to cover in this article are perhaps the hardest to live. I want to open with a thought. The Ten Booms were ordinary people, but they involved their faith in everything, and it made them extraordinary. Greatness comes with faith, but it comes when you’re not looking. You’ll be the last to see it. Corrie never thought she was super special.

Now for the most remarkable thing about their story:

In the second prison Corrie learned the name of the man who’d betrayed them. She says, “Flames of fire seemed to leap around that name in my heart. I thought of Father’s final hours, alone and confused, in a hospital corridor. Of the underground work so abruptly halted. I thought of Mary Itallie arrested while walking down the street. And I knew that if Jan Vogel stood in front of me now I could kill him.” The life dropped out of her spiritual existence. She worked herself into “a sickness of body and spirit.” She told a prison friend about it all, was only too happy to. She was puzzled by Betsie’s seemingly unchanged attitude. Finally one night she asked, “Betsie, don’t you feel anything about Jan Vogel? Doesn’t it bother you?” “Oh, yes, Corrie! Terribly! I’ve felt for him ever since I knew–and pray for him whenever his name comes into my mind. How dreadfully he must be suffering!” Corrie goes on to say, “For a long time I lay silent in the huge shadowy barracks restless with the sighs, snores, and stirrings of hundreds of women. Once again I had the feeling that this sister with whom I had spent all my life belonged somehow to another order of beings. Wasn’t she telling me in her gentle way that I was as guilty as Jan Vogel? Didn’t he and I stand together before an all-seeing God convicted of the same sin of murder? For I had murdered him with my heart and with my tongue. ‘Lord Jesus,” I whispered into the lumpy ticking of the bed, ‘I forgive Jon Vogel as I pray that you will forgive me. I have done him great damage. Bless him now, and his family…’ That night for the first time since our betrayer had a name I slept deep and dreamlessly until the whistle summoned us to roll call.”

How do you forgive on such a scale? Later, out of prison and speaking in Germany,  Corrie met one of the guards from her prison. “And suddenly it was all there–the roomful of mocking men, the heaps of clothing, Betsie’s pain-blanched face. He came up to me as the church was emptying, beaming and bowing. ‘How grateful I am for your message, Fraulein,’ he said. ‘To think that, as you say, He has washed my sins away!’ His hand was thrust out to shake mine. And I, who had preached so often to the people in Bloemendaal the need to forgive, kept my hand at my side. Even as the angry, vengeful thoughts boiled through me. I saw the sin of them. Jesus Christ had died for this man; was I going to ask for more? Lord Jesus, I prayed, forgive me and help me to forgive him. I tried to smile, I struggled to raise my hand. I couldn’t. I felt nothing, not the slightest spark of warmth or charity. And so again I breathed a silent prayer. Jesus, I cannot forgive him. Give me your forgiveness. As I took his hand the most incredible thing happened. From my shoulder along my arm and through my hand a current seemed to pass from me to him. While into my heart sprang a love for this stranger that almost overwhelmed me. And so I discovered that it is not on our forgiveness any more than our goodness that the world’s healing hinges, but on His.”

I wonder if I could be so humble, or forgive so thoroughly. I know that we are made ready for any trial that we need to face. We are fully equipped. Though the choice of whether or not to “train” is ours. Corrie and Betsie trained all their lives. They were raised on the Bible and church and they did things out of faith all their lives. Whether you agree with such a life style or not, it clearly does something. But the sisters would never want us to give them credit so it’s only fair to them that I say it really wasn’t them.