I am walking down the aisle in the airport when I get rushed by an overwhelming feeling: the girl in the big black sunglasses carrying the Louis Vuitton bag needs to read Girl Perfect. That woman, barely able to walk upright, balancing her overly large breast implants with high heels and way too much collagen in her lips, needs to read my book. So does that teen girl with pink hair in the corner, looking angry and staring at her laptop, immersed in MySpace while her mother talks nonstop on her cell phone. Now that I think of it, her mom could read it too.

The pink-haired girl reminds me of the line of girls tortured by bulimia and anorexia and sexual abuse that I met at last week’s conference. I have this insane urge to run through the airport passing out books and screaming, “There is a better way! There is a better way! Take this! It will bring you hope!”

I suddenly understand crazy people with megaphones on the side of the street.

I resist these unrealistic urges but they still linger while I board the plane. The lady sitting next to me in the white Juicy sweatsuit, entranced in the latest Michael Crichton mystery, could probably dig her teeth into my crazy adventures, and maybe that would inspire her towards God. The guy sitting on the other side of me begins talking about his sister who is living with her boyfriend and their baby, struggling to get by. Then during a lull, we both pull out our books, and I read mine, the very first time reading the final copy. Right before we land, he starts telling me how he just met his girlfriend at a local modeling agency and wants to help her to honor God with her life.

Without a word from me, he asks about the book on my lap. “Oh, it’s about this girl who had all this pressure to be perfect and it just took her over until finally she found the only Perfect there is.”

There are so many things we as people want to control. Personally, I spent an insane amount of time pouring my guts out in this book, with desperation and tears and dreams that it could change someone’s life. And now, I want to figure out some brilliant plan to get it in the hands of every person in the airport. But the truth is, that is out of my control.

On the flight home, an old man from Alaska sits next to me. Without me asking, he claims that he has spent his life building some clever contraption that will free our country’s dependence on fuel; he is trying with all his might to figure out how to get it in the hands of the people. In a weird way, I understand. We all have our passions. We all have our dreams - those things that we believe will leave the world a better place. All I can say to the old man is give your invention to Palin! And then, trust God with the rest!

“Wasn’t this God’s book from the very beginning?” a friend asked me a few days ago. “Now give it back to Him.”

So I lay it at His feet. It is His gift to me, and I give it back. What happens is beyond my control. God can part the Red Sea for it if He wants, or He can use it touch one girl and that is all. It doesn’t matter. What matters is that today, I choose surrender.

There is something in your life that you need to surrender control over. It may be a child, a marriage, a plan, a hope or a dream. It may be an addiction to self, or to drugs or to a guy. It may be that you are suffering in silence over something and have yet to speak of it. It may simply be an acceptance that the future is in His hands and He will do nothing outside of His great love for you. Let’s make a choice to surrender - all.
And then, He can surprise us! And we can say, Wow, Lord, I never could have seen that coming!

The first thing that Michael Phelps did when he won his 8th gold medal at the Olympic games was give credit to his teammates. No ones gets to his place in life alone. In contrast, another gold medalist beat his chest boastfully as he trumpeted across the field, showing off his feat.

Personally, I prefer the humble, grateful ones. To me, they are the true champions, because they remind us that being a champion is more about character than ability, more about gratitude than self-absorption - a lesson that I have learned the hard way.

Having just seen my own little dream come true, I really want to give credit to my teammates. It’s a strange thing to see the dream of your heart realized. The feeling I got when I first received my recently published book, Girl Perfect, in the mail, was this: Wow, dreams do come true. Wow, God does really hear our prayers, and He really does answer them! I felt like I had living proof of His goodness in my hands.

But I had living proof of even more than that - that we do not achieve our dreams alone, and that amazing things can happen when people band together for one sole purpose - to shine God’s light into a dark world.

The name on the book, “Jennifer Strickland,” stands for so many more names than most readers will ever know. But I want you to know that it should really say, “Shane, Linda, Larry, Zach and Olivia Strickland, Jan, George and Greg Porter, mentors like Greg Johnson, Steve Arterburn, Jim Burns and Jan Leonard, editors like Debbie Marrie, Deborah Moss and Donna Hilton, and dear friends like Lori Kennedy, Kristen Smith, Caris Leidner, Katie Hickey, Wendy Sylvester and many, many more, who believed in my dream and sacrificed time, energy, prayer, frustration, tears and countless hours of their own lives to help my dream come true.
Today, I choose gratitude for all of you and the many more who supported me during this journey. This was a team effort. Behind each word and each story, there was a dedicated group of women praying as I wrote; behind each difficult moment in which I stumbled and sometimes fell, there was my mother-in-law, Linda, who caught lots of my tears and patiently listened as I wrestled with the truths coming out, and who spent innumerable hours filling our children’s love tanks and cooking dinners so I could write; and there was Larry Strickland, my father-in-law, who always brought me coffee, tea or dark chocolate right when I needed it; and there was my husband Shane who with his quiet strength kept me focused on the firm belief that it could be done, and that it should be done - that telling the story of my journey was worth it for the single goal of helping young women.

And of course there was my mother and father who chose to face the painful moments of their daughter’s life with grace and courage; and the editors who put up with my “girl perfect” mentality - that the book had to be perfect — while once again I learned a lesson in the writing and the publishing — that “perfect” is found only in heaven, and not in books!
So please, if you read Girl Perfect, do not pass by the acknowledgements. They are first because my thanks to all those who supported me comes first.

And maybe like me, you too might need to take a moment to stop and think about those in your life who have helped you get where you are, and let them know how much they mean to you. Those are moments well spent, because as the Olympians have taught us, those are moments that are the mark of true champions.

The people I admire most are those that remain joyful despite the challenging circumstances they may be facing.

As far as I can tell, joy is a choice.

It is a choice to wake up in the morning and count the things we are thankful for before getting out of bed. It is a choice to smile at a stranger, to tickle our kids, to run silly through the house and not worry about the mess. It is a choice to let your face light up when your loved one walks into the room. It is a choice to kiss them goodnight. There is no doubt, joy is a choice.

Since joy has never been my strength as a Christian, I have always prayed for myself, “Let the joy of the Lord be my strength.” (Ne 8:10) The cool thing about God is that he can take a weakness and make it a strength, for nothing is impossible with Him.

No matter what you may be facing today, my hope for you (and for me!) is that we will choose joy.

“Choose love,” I could sense God telling me.
“But Lord, I don’t feel ….”
“Choose love,” He repeated in the quiet of my heart. “If you want to be like me, then choose love.”

In the stillness of the early morning, as the sun came streaming through the pines outside my window, this simple exchange changed the direction of my day, my weekend, my week, and perhaps my life.

Love is a choice. It is certainly the choice Christ made every day of His life. He loved even when He was hated. He loved when he was rejected. He loved even when that love wasn’t returned. Ultimately, He calls us to do the same.

Here’s the great news: when we choose love, joy comes to us in unexpected ways.

My prayer for you is that you may experience that joy today by “choosing love,” no matter what the circumstance. Trust me, you will never regret it!

If you are anything like me, you are now searching for the perfect gift for everyone on your list. So I’m making this short and sweet today.
As I “grow up” a little, I notice something more and more: people take God for granted. Lots of kids growing up in Christian schools don’t appreciate the Cross at all. People don’t read their Bibles, even though it’s the one love letter we have from God.

Sometimes I fall into that category of not appreciating. But lately — as I search for the perfect gift for the people I love — I feel like I have already received all that I need. Through His sacrifice, we have all been given “the perfect gift.” It is perfect love, perfect freedom and perfect forgiveness all wrapped in one.

Today, I am thankful for the Cross. I am thankful that it gives me a new day. I am grateful that through faith in Him, I am given a clean slate on earth and an eternity of Perfect in heaven.

As you celebrate the birth of our Savior, please remember, the perfect gift is not under the tree. It is in your heart. It is the beauty of knowing mercy and extending it to those around us. It is the beauty of a new day.

May your Christmas be full of joy.

Your friend,
Jen

When a woman who had led a “sinful life” heard that Jesus was having dinner in town, she crashed the party. Bold as she was, she did not approach him face-to-face. Instead, she stood behind him as he reclined at the table, tears streaming down her face. Then, forgetting what all the well-to-do people thought, she fell to her knees, kissing his feet, drenching them with her tears and wiping them with her tangled hair. As she took her alabaster jar of costly perfume and anointed the very skin of Christ, I can imagine her thinking:

What a mess I’ve made of the life you gave me . . . what a mess I am! All I can give you now is this little bit of beauty I’ve got left: my broken shame-filled heart. I don’t care what they think! All I care is what you think, Jesus . . . You. It’s me and you here now. Will you wash me? Will you wash off all the dirt and grime and polish me with the oil of you? Will you make me new?

The courage to get real with Jesus is breathtakinginly beautiful. You cannot create this kind of beauty with makeup and stylish clothes. This is the kind that can not be fabricated; it is so authentic, so raw that it makes us uncomfortable . . . it scares us.

Our other main character in this scene, Simon, is absolutely revolted by this woman’s poor behavior at his dinner party. He is a Pharisee, who is categorically more interested in having the perfect image than the perfect heart. If Jesus were really a prophet, he thinks, He would know that this woman is a sinner!

Jesus had just finished explaining to these “experts” of religious law that he did not come to save the healthy, but the sick. He didn’t come for the perfect! He came for imperfect; he came for her.

If they were such “experts,” they should have known 1 Samuel 16:7, which says man looks at the outward appearance, but God looks at the heart. In Matthew 23, Jesus rants and raves against their hypocrisy, calling them “white-washed tombs, which look beautiful on the outside but on the inside are full of dead-man’s bones.” They wore a perfect mask, hiding ugliness underneath it all. And Jesus could see right through them.

So does he reject her for her brazen behavior? Her past? Her sexual sin? No. He does not look at the outward appearance. He sees her heart — broken, messy, real, and it is beautiful to him.

Instead of explaining this to Simon outright, he tells him a story about two people with canceled debts, saying that the one with the bigger debt is more grateful than the one with the smaller. This woman had a big debt; she had a lot to be forgiven; she had a large burden, and a lot to be grateful for, like me. But she was real, and the rawness of her love endeared her to him.

The perfect image never did it for Jesus. The image he loved was the one that was crumbling, the one that was humble enough to say, I have not led a perfect life, but I want a perfect forgiveness, a perfect love, and I know that comes from you.

So why are we so afraid to say, “I’m crumbling?” Because everyone will know the perfect image we put off isn’t real, and we’ve identified our worth with the image. But the image is only that — a replication, an imitation of what’s real. The real thing is what you want more than anything to pour out at the feet of Jesus. That’s what real is. And He loves real. Fake, he can’t do anything with. The truth is, he hates fake.

But messy, crumbling, slobbering, mascara running, hair out of place, “I’ve made a mess of my life and I need you”: that’s what really pulls at his heart. In a world obsessed with how things look on the outside, he’s searching for hearts that aren’t afraid to break open and bleed a little … or a lot.

Do you want the perfect image? Then imitate her. Don’t imitate the images of our culture. They are illusions. What is real is everything we see in the woman who led the sinful life: a willingness to say, this is what is underneath the veneer . . . and I’m not afraid to let other people know that. I’m not afraid to pour out my heart, because I know he loves me like this.

“Your sins are forgiven,” he said to her, “Your faith has saved you. Go in peace.”

In a vacant hostel set amidst the snow-laden Black Forest, I read the Good News Bible for the first time in my life. I have not eaten anything for days, but the thin, tattered pages of this book have become my communion bread, my nourishment.

I am fascinated by these stories of men and women rejected by people and embraced by this guy Jesus. When man disappoints, scorns, judges, rejects; Jesus touches, has compassion on, heals, forgives, loves. There are people the world seems ready to dispose of, who Jesus treats with utmost respect. Their past doesn’t bother him; the opinions of people in their community don’t phase him; he sees them through purely loving eyes. And his love frees them to walk in dignity and respect for themselves, no matter where they’ve been.

When Jesus spoke with the Samaritan woman, he broke every chain that bound her. Jesus went to the well because he was tired and thirsty from a long journey – the very same reason why I finally went to the well.
The Samaritan woman walks up to get some water – not in the morning or in the evening, when it was customary, but in the middle of the day – probably to avoid running into people who knew her reputation.
Jesus asks her for a cup of water.

Stunned that he would even speak to her – Jews and Samaritans hated each other – she questions him, “How can you even ask me for a drink?”

Jesus answers, “If you only knew who it is who asks you for a drink, you would ask me and I would give you living water.”

Then she tries to argue that he doesn’t even have a cup!

But Jesus isn’t moved. “Everyone who drinks this water will be thirsty again,” He says, “But whoever drinks the water I give him will never thirst.”

Then it all comes out in the open – she’s been with many men and the man she is with now isn’t her husband.

Why does Jesus tell her about the living water? Why doesn’t he tell this to the demon-possessed man? To the blind, poor, sick, lame? Why her?

Because he knows this woman’s thirst. He knows her hunger. And he knows that he is the only source that can fill it.

He was the source from which she was made, and he is the source from which she needs to drink to get “full.” But she has been going from man to man to man to man, looking for fulfillment. And Jesus is saying to her, “Sweetheart, what you need is me. What you need is a well that doesn’t run dry, a love that doesn’t run out, a water that will satisfy.”

She leaves her water jar at the well, goes back to the town and says to the people, “Come, see a man who told me everything I ever did!”

Why does she leave her water jar? Because she realizes that she has found the source of her thirst. A man who knows everything she ever did and does not judge her? Does not ask anything of her? He only offers free fulfillment? She has found what she has been looking for her entire life.

My knees are pressed hard to rocky soil. My head is in my hands. I am weeping. The tears come from the center of that little girl inside of me who had gone into the world searching for love. She is in a heap on the ground, with not a soul in sight.

“Help me,” I cry through broken sobs. “In the name of Jesus Christ, help me God . . . .”
In the snowy, frozen winter of the lightless forest, I feel a growing warmth on the back of my head, and then heat on my hair and neck. I look up. The dark, ominous clouds shift, and the sun beams through an open space.

I have come to the right place. I have come to the well, after a long and tiring journey. And it is a well that doesn’t run dry.

Hungry? Thirsty? Unsatisfied? Empty? At bottom? Restless? Disappointed? On rocky ground?
He’s got what will fill you. You just need to ask. If you do not ask, he can not and will not force it down your throat – he loves you too much for that. He is too patient for that. He’s just offering: I am the living water. I am the well that won’t run dry. I can fill you.

And I can wash you clean. Only I can do that, my dear child. Only I can do that.

There was this woman with a big “A” on her chest. No, not Hester Prynne from the Scarlet Letter, but her predecessor. Her name in the Bible is simply “a woman caught in adultery.” Maybe she is nameless because that’s how she felt the day the teachers of the law and Pharisees brought her to the center of town and made her stand in front of everyone so they could stone her, or at least jeer at her. Maybe that day she felt nameless … until Jesus stepped in.

As the story goes, the religious leaders tried to trick him into condemning this woman along with them, but Jesus refused. Instead he bent down silently, writing something in the sand with his finger (perhaps a list of their sins?). They kept questioning him, so finally he straightened up and said, “If any of you is without sin, let him be the first to throw a stone at her.” At this, they all walked away.

“Woman, where are they?” he asked her. “Has no one condemned you?”

“No one, sir,” she replied.

“Then neither do I condemn you,” Jesus declared. “Go now and leave your life of sin.”

The men had gathered to throw some stones that day. To point the finger and expose her shame. And Jesus certainly could have done the same. But he didn’t. He didn’t rebuke, criticize, judge, scorn, lecture or remind her of all the bad things she had done. Instead, he exposed their judgement: their shame. And he treated the woman with love and compassion.

Jesus had this compassion for people that is tough to find on earth, even in churches. As humans we feel compassion for children suffering disease, the poor and lame, those who experience a tragic loss. Compassion comes easily for the innocent.

But the guilty? Those who have clearly done wrong? Clearly forsaken their loved ones? Compassion simply is not the natural human response.

We all know people who we wish would change. We wish they would see the consequences of their poor choices. We wish they would see their sin, their shortcomings, their character flaws and fall at God’s feet saying, “I’ll change!” But this does not happen, so we argue, cry, plead, beg, criticize, scorn, remind them of their shortcomings … to no avail. Why doesn’t this approach work? Because judgment and shame do not bring about lasting change, which can only begin in the heart — the place where God and man meet one-on-one.

I have been called judgmental before — and I say that to my own shame. I see people who I love still trapped in the ways that I lived before Christ came into my life and became all that I needed . . . and I feel so helpless to get them out of that slavery to drugs, alcohol, sex, whatever it is that has them in that empty, repetitive cycle. And sometimes I may not throw a stone, but I might shake my head. I don’t think I’m better than them; I just feel so frustrated that they do not hand these things over to the only One who can truly turn their lives inside out.

But this is what God is teaching me: Jen, do not judge. It will never bring change. Only love will. Look at the world through my eyes. See the woman with the “A” branded on her chest as I do: as my child, lost and hurting. Hold out your hand to help her up, and if she does not take it, pray for her. Do not lift your hand to throw a stone — for you too were lost and alone; you too are in need of a Savior.

Who in your life might need less criticism from you and more compassion? Who do you wish would change? Try Jesus’ approach: faith that if they only knew how deeply you love them, how much you sympathize with whatever they are facing, they would change … for good.

Mary. The mother of God. The Sinless one. The Holy one. The Blessed Virgin. History has painted Mary as perfect. Having a Queen in Heaven who advocates on our behalf has been remarkably helpful for countless women. Since I was not brought up with religion, however, I have only the Scriptures to define what the mother of Jesus was like. Regardless of how history has framed her, the perfect Word reveals she is more like us than we might imagine.

According to Luke, she was a girl from Nazareth and a virgin engaged to be married to a carpenter. Reading her famous Magnificat (Luke 1:46-55) reveals that the history of her people and her God were seared on Mary’s heart. Many have claimed that she was blessed with being the mother of the Messiah because of her purity, reverence and holiness. Certainly she was “highly favored with God,” in the words of the angel Gabriel. But let’s read what Elizabeth, her dear friend, exclaimed upon hearing Mary was pregnant with the Christ: “Blessed is she who …. Remains a virgin forever? Never sins? Never questions God? Memorizes Scripture?” No, Elizabeth cried out some of the most profound words women claim in all of Scripture: “Blessed is she who has believed that what the Lord has said to her will be accomplished!” Blessed is she who has believed.

When the angel Gabriel first approached her, Mary was “greatly troubled.” And when he told her that she would be the mother of the Son of God, she definitely questioned it. “How could this be, for I am a virgin?” She asked.

“Nothing is impossible with God,” the angel told Mary.

Mary answered with the words God must long to hear from all of us: “I am the Lord’s servant,” she responded, “May it be to me as you have said.” And as any woman would do, she hurried to tell a friend. She and Elizabeth excitedly exchanged news, and Mary broke out in her song of praise, “the Magnificat”: “From now on all generations will call me blessed ….”

Unfortunately women over time have felt disconnected from Mary. She has seemed too perfect. We cannot relate to someone who never sinned and whose son never sinned. History’s framing of her as an eternal virgin is just too unrelatable. And yet, the Scriptures reveal that not only did she bear more children, but that she also needed a Savior: “My soul glorifies the Lord and my spirit rejoices in God my Savior,” she said. She was as human and as in need of God as the rest of us. What is different about her, in the angel’s words, is that she was highly favored with God. This is the part that draws me to her, because I – like most of us – want blessing and favor with God.

Like Abraham, Mary’s faith was credited to her as righteousness. It wasn’t that she did everything right – in fact at the wedding at Cana she got on Jesus’ nerves a bit as she attempted to nudge him into public ministry. Later, while the crowds pushed against him, she sent someone in to get him, but he disregarded her call, remaining with the people who needed to hear his teaching most. Nevertheless, she was there outside the door –confused and afraid most likely – but ever faithful.

At Jesus’ baby dedication at the temple, the prophet Simeon turned to Mary and said that Jesus’ life would cause the rise and fall of many, and a sword would pierce her own soul too. At the cross, these words became an ominous foretelling of their fate: before her eyes her son was beaten and crucified by the very people he came to save. The child who had been born in her arms had grown into a man spat upon and despised by so many. Knowing he was God’s one and only Son must have caused her immeasurable sorrow. But when nearly all his disciples had run away in terror, faithful Mary remained at the foot of the cross until he gasped his last breath. Even after Jesus had returned to the Father, she gathered with all the believers in prayer.

The fact that she believed does not mean that she didn’t question, didn’t doubt, didn’t grieve and worry. But the fact that she believed was the source of her blessedness. The good news for us is that Scriptures show no evidence of her perfection, only her faith. 1 Peter 3:5 says the women of the past used to make themselves beautiful by putting their hope in God. To me, this is what makes Mary so beautiful: her hope.

Sometimes I want so badly to do something great. I see the suffering in the world and I want to solve it. But then I remember Mary. She simply opened herself as a vessel of His Spirit. Despite all questions, she believed. She allowed Christ to come inside of her, dwell and grow within her – literally. And from that faith was born the hope of the world.

What are you questioning God about right now? What makes you doubt? What makes you worry? Remember Mary. Open your heart as she opened her womb. Allow God’s plans to grow within you. Trust Him. From your faith great things can come. For it is only in the growth of His Spirit within us that real miracles are born. And through us, yes, God can touch suffering – and heal it.
Blessed is she who has believed.

The Word teaches that real beauty comes from the inner self. This is great news on days when we feel ugly. In fact, 1 Peter 3:3 (on right) is one of the major reasons I left the modeling industry — because while everyone else critiqued the outside, God loved the girl within.

While I’m glad my worth in God’s eyes is beyond the flesh, this verse also troubles me. Unfading beauty, it reads, is rooted in a “gentle and quiet spirit.” That’s the problem: I don’t have a gentle and quiet spirit. I’m passionate and opinionated. When I’m really mad, I’ve been known to yell. “Gentle” and “quiet” aren’t the first words to describe me!

Some days it seems Botox, hair extensions, a personal trainer, plastic surgery, a new set of clothes and miracle makeup would be easier avenues to beautiful. But this is an endless battle: it’s the world’s way of chasing an “unfading” physical beauty that is unattainable anyway. While I’m not against looking our best — in fact I’m all for it — sometimes focusing on the physical is a serious distraction from dealing with the woman within.

Recently I asked some trusted friends to name the traits of a truly beautiful woman. They answered with words like peace, joy, patience, faithfulness, compassion, love, unselfishness, kindness. We all know women who have a beauty like this: there is a sparkle in their eye that speaks of a deep joy, a deep peace. They overflow with the kind of unselfish love that draws us to them. They may not look like a Revlon model, but they have a beauty that lasts. By knowing them, we are changed and inspired.

Lashing out at someone I love always makes me feel uglier than having my face broken out or flesh bulging from jeans that used to fit. Deep inside, it hurts when a loved one needs me to have a “gentle and quiet” spirit and I have anything but. As 1 Corinthians 4:21 says, we choose how to react: we can come at someone as with a “whip” or in gentleness and love. Obviously love is the better choice, but that doesn’t mean we get it right every time.

Here’s the good news: the fruit of the Spirit as defined in Galatians 5 lists every attribute my friends described as real beauty. The spirit Paul refers to in 1 Peter 3:3 is not the natural human spirit, but Christ’s Spirit in us. What is beautiful to God? A woman who hopes in him. A woman whose heart is open for him to fill it. The more we open ourselves to be filled, the more our character is transformed. The less we are like our selfish humanity and the more we become like Christ, who is radiant with perfect beauty (He 1:3; Ps 50:2).

The other day I was very frustrated with my daughter and felt like lashing out. But something extraordinary happened: I opened my mouth, and loving, kind words flowed from it. Something miraculous takes place when we ask God to give us a beauty that lasts — we make a ton of mistakes, and then we have moments like this, when his Spirit takes over. We begin to see and enjoy the sweet fruit of his love shining through us.
Finally, we care less and less about looking a certain way and realize that acting a certain way can be much more attractive . . . even when no one is watching.