Labels? Check.

By continuing to dive into my online Bible study, Unglued, I have been forced to face another issue I really hadn't thought about in YEARS.  LABELS.  Those sticky things are on things we buy that tell us what's inside.  How strange that the same principal applies to people around us and ourselves.  But does a label REALLY tell us what's inside?  Do we label each other?  Yep.  Do we label ourselves? Double Yep.  Are labels usually positive, uplifting, or encouraging? Um, negative on that.  When I was brainstorming about what labels have been placed on me and how they have affected my life, a story came to mind about something that happened to me in high school that I hadn't thought about in YEARS.  Here goes. 

When I was a freshman, I was a cheerleader (big surprise, I know).  But, I was not the best, prettiest, or smallest by any stretch of the imagination.  The genes handed down to me by generations of women (thank you) were curves (BEFORE we wanted curves)!  The result of this was a constant source of insecurity for me about my weight and body.  On this particular day we were wearing our uniforms to school (which of course included an extremely too short skirt) and I was walking in the hall during a class period (probably to the bathroom or something).  Point being, I was alone and the hall was quiet.  There were 2 girls who were sitting in the hall who started making thunder noises as I walked past.  You know, BOOM-BOOM-BOOM.  Yeah. For real.  I remember turning around looking them straight in the eyes, to make sure they knew I heard them, and they broke into hysterical laughter.  I was so shocked, hurt, and disgusted that I didn't say anything.  Those of you who know me now are probably thinking "Paige, YOU didn't have anything to say back?  You didn't go on one of your famous monologues full of passive-agressive analogies and put those mean girls in their place?" And my answer would be 'Nope.  I couldn't think of a darn thing to say.'  That instant label- Fat cheerleader- stuck.  I had probably already given it to myself, but those girls confirmed every insecurity I had.  And these weren't girls who didn't know me.  Nope.  One of them I went to elementary school with. She'd been to my birthday parties.  She had sat with me in the cafeteria and talked about boys, clothes, and what it would be like to be in middle school. That hurt more than any stranger could have.

So girls, why do we do this?  I'm not going to go into the whole debate about "mean-girl syndrome" because I won't deny I was pretty mean myself at times.  But how long do these labels stick?  And how do we get away from them?  One answer, the only answer: Christ.  The Label of Christian, Christ-follower, Son of the Most High, Child of God...those labels are the ONLY ones given to us by our Heaven Father who created us and wants to most amazing things for our lives.  I think about all of the labels that I WANT for myself and how God is helping me to accept the ones He has given me.  Here are a few I'm claiming because HE has given them to me.  I didn't earn them.  They are His gift.

1. Mom (God blessed me with 2 beautiful babies)
2. Wife (God brought me a Godly Husband---and then had to knock me on the head to see it)
3. Sister in Christ (Jesus came to this earth, died for my sins, rose again so that I could call him my Christ!)
4. Friend (God has brought women to me in my life that are showing me what being in hot pursuit of HIS will looks like.  I'm beyond grateful for that example)

 Compared to that list, any other label doesn't seem to matter much.