by Shanan Anthony

When I was a little girl, I would often spend part of my summer vacation at my grandmother’s house in Oklahoma.  There are several things I remember about visiting my grandmother…her electric organ, Braum’s ice cream every Friday, riding in her golf cart.  The thing that stands out the most in my mind, however, is the beautiful hand mirror that my grandmother kept on the dresser in the room where I slept.  This wasn’t just an ordinary hand mirror either.  It was beautiful . . . hand crafted from the most exquisite silver, intricately detailed on the back with swirls and flowers, and best of all, it had a matching brush. 

I would sit in that bedroom at my grandmother’s house for hours, brush in hand, mirror before me, pretending to be a princess.  I would hold court each day, carrying on imaginary conversations with my courtiers and subjects while I brushed my hair and gazed at my reflection in the mirror.  That can sound a bit self-absorbed unless you know that I didn’t normally make a habit of admiring myself in the mirror; in fact, I usually avoided mirrors altogether.  But this mirror was different.  When I looked in that hand mirror I didn’t see the pudgy 11-year old with crooked teeth and a too-short haircut.  Instead I saw a princess who was loved and adored for her inner-beauty and gentle ways and who lived in a kingdom where straight teeth and long hair didn’t matter to anyone.

Unfortunately, this fairy tale did not have the proverbial happy ending…or so I thought.  This hand mirror was very heavy.  One day as I turned away from the mirror to answer a very important question from my brother, the Prince, the mirror slipped from my hand and fell face first onto the dresser top where it was usually kept.  I tentatively reached to pick up the mirror and was relieved that remnants of shattered glass did not lie underneath. With a sigh of relief I turned the mirror around, only to discover that although the mirror had not fallen apart, it was severely cracked.  The reflection I saw in the mirror was no longer untarnished, but rather it was distorted and ugly – not much different from what I saw in any other mirror.

I didn’t play with my grandmother’s hand mirror much after that day.  I told myself I wasn’t a little girl anymore – that I was too old to play princess.  In reality I had just given up the dream.  I didn’t think I would ever be able to see myself as I once had in that mirror…and I didn’t…until I met Jesus.

Several years later Jesus came into my life.  Although I hardly remembered the mirror incident from so long ago, Jesus didn’t forget.  He picked up that beautiful mirror once again and held it before my face.  As I looked in the mirror, I no longer saw the distorted image created by the broken glass and my own imagination…I didn’t even see an imaginary princess.  Instead I saw a beautiful young woman who was

the daughter of a King . . . unblemished and pure, loved and adored for her inner beauty and gentle ways.  As I began to adjust to the reality of this new image, I heard Jesus whisper, “My precious daughter, this is how I see you…how I will always see you.  If you ever begin to doubt what I see, just let me hold the mirror for you again.”

What do you see when you look in the mirror? Have you ever gazed at your reflection through the eyes of your Creator? 

This month’s Extreme Faith will allow you to do just that . . . to reflect on the significant spiritual moments in your life and see how they are viewed in light of eternity; to look at the true reflection of who you are in Christ rather than the images you may have defined for yourself; and to discover the high calling that has been placed on each of our lives.