Pink!
If you asked me what my favorite color was, I’d immediately say, “Blue!”
I just love blue. Dark blues, navies, royal, and bright blues. If you ran into me on any given day, chances are, I’d be wearing blue. But only ever so often – pink.
Yet, if you saw my home, you’d see PINK! Pink, pink, pink! Pink pillows, pink art, pink (fluffy, yummy) blankets, pink flowers, pink pencil holders! Even pink paper!
Pink is the color I surround myself with. Because pink is the color of happiness and joy!
At least for me . . .
Pink makes me feel soft and tender – peaceful and happy.
White and pink = happy!
But recently, unfortunately, in the American and Western cultures, pink has been hijacked. Pink is no longer the the color of softness and feminine tenderness. It’s the color of rage.
And hostility.
The color of blame. Aggression. The color of deception.
Self-deception.
“If we say it’s good thing, long enough, to violate our hearts and abuse our bodies, well then, one day, we’re gonna believe it!”
One day.
But you don’t.
“Well, . . . that’s because it’s THEIR fault! It’s their fault that we feel annihilated and destroyed from within. If they only accepted our self-destruction, if only they would agree, pass a law condoning our immolating – then we would feel better.
“We would feel right. We would feel . . . Justified . . .”
And so they do.
But we don’t.
We don’t feel right. Or justified.
. . . the pain is still there.
The things that everyone promised would bring us freedom, have only brought us the decimation of our soul. The death of our Spirit.
We are half the women we were before.
No, a third . . . a fifteenth . . .
We are broken.
And destroyed . . .
We are destroyed because we listened to the lies our culture told us. The lies they told us that the boundaries were bad. That the boundaries were there to harm us, not to protect us. We believed the lies that said that if we had the courage to fling ourselves into the fire we would not be burned.
And so we did.
And in our heart of hearts we know the truth. We know that we have become THEIR sacrifice on the Altar of Liberation.
Female Liberation.
We listened to the lies and flung ourselves into the fire. And thus have “evolved” into self-contaminated zombies.
The new Living Dead.
Living, yet dead. Within our own bodies.
But, yet . . .
There is a way out.
There is always a way out. A way back to life. A way to return to wholeness, and to learn how to live, alive, again.
To learn how to live in the goodness of life that our Creator originally intended for us, as women. The same Loving Creator Who initially designed those boundaries . . . for our protection.
Boundaries placed to keep us from being burned by the flames. To keep us from annihilating ourselves in our misguided quest for “liberation.” Enlightenment.
For two thousand years now, the holy scripture has told us that, “The wages of sin is death.” (Romans 6:23b)
We sin. We die. Plain and simple.
And if we are honest with ourselves, we know that this statement proves itself true continuously. Not only physically. Or just spiritually. But also soul-ishly.
In our heart of hearts.
We have each died within ourselves.
And yet again, the Lord already said, “I have come that you might have life, and life more abundantly.” (John 10:10b)
This Life supersedes death.
This life, His life, can upend, can resurrect every part of us that has died within us. Every part. Any part of us, that we lost by sacrificing it on the altar of our culture’s liberation.
This is His promise.
And this promise still holds true today – if we come to Him, with, and in, our broken “us.”
And this is our hope.
It is this hope, this understanding that I wish to pour into you, as you set your world aside and step apart to read this blog. This hope, this understanding, is that everything can be good and right again with your world. With your life. If you seek it.
When you to come to these pages, may you encounter the softness, the comfort, the peace that’s always here, that’s always surrounding us in Him. It is that sensation you feel when you’re peaceful and quiet, and soft and safe enough to listen.
And soft and safe enough to allow the Author of Your Soul to reveal yourself to . . . you.
The peace is in there. The quiet is in there. In Him.
If you will only be still enough to listen.
Interested in becoming a Pink Peppercorn too? Learn more here:
Jennifer says
definitely