A couple of weeks ago I wrote about the expectations of beauty we have for Christian women in the public eye. As a follow-up, check out this short video showing the work involved in transforming a regular girl into a billboard stunner. As one blogger put it, "Seems those magazine beauties don't really exist after all...which means that many of us guys have a subconscious measuring stick no female can measure up to without moving in and out of Photoshop at will." You're just now figuring this out?

But we shouldn't come down too hard on the men. Many of the women who complain about our culture's unreasonable standards of beauty are the same ones spending huge sums of money on Botox and miracle wrinkle creams. We claim to resent it, but our dollars and attention fuel the machine. (And I can't prove this, but I think we do it more to impress and compete with other women than we do to attract men.)

This video is part of Dove's "Campaign for Real Beauty" which promises to, among other things, donate grant dollars toward "the Program for Aesthetics and Well-Being" at Harvard and develop a "self-esteem fund" for young girls. I doubt Dove will single-handedly change the nature of advertising in this country, but it's a brilliant advertising ploy in its own right. And I have a pimple today so I'm going to watch the video again.

On the money

This past week I not only paid my 2006 federal and state taxes, but also paid the first quarterly installment of my self-employment taxes for 2007. I'd known since last winter that this April was coming and had been saving accordingly, so it was okay to write the checks. (Well, as okay as it can be when one's money is going for this.)

But it got me thinking about how I spend my money, and wondering how it compares to other people. Obviously it's a personal issue, and it varies considerably depending on one's age, health, marital status, number of kids, interests, etc.

Other than taxes and giving to your local church--both of which I hope are part of your regular routine--how else do you allocate your funds? What are you willing to spend money on and what aren't you?

And when I say "spend money on," I mean where do you a) invest in necessities at a higher price or (presumably) better quality or b) budget for and purchase non-necessities and splurges?

I'll start. I spend money on antioxidants and endorphins: organic food, yoga classes, and good moisturizers. Ironically I don't spend money (right now) for health insurance.

I spend money to sponsor a boy named Eko in Indonesia through Compassion International but I don't buy fund-raising products from kids selling them door to door.

I spend money on plane tickets and travel but not day-to-day transportation; I expect my cars to last at least a few years after they're paid off and I drove the last one until the engine threatened to fall out the bottom and lay smoking on Highway 5 in San Diego.

I don't spend money on jewelry (that's for a nice boy to do someday) or jeans (hello, Goodwill) but I've been known to spend money on other things to wear. I spend money on coffee beans and the occasional nice meal out. I don't spend money on paper towels, cleaning products, or dry cleaning. (Vinegar and water cleans everything, and if I can't machine wash it I don't need it. If I could find a way to dryclean things with vinegar, I'd be in heaven.)

I don't spend money on meat for me (I don't like it) or high-quality food for my cat (who's going to throw it up on my carpet later anyway).

I spend money on a carpet cleaner.

I spend money on DVD rentals but not cable. I spend money on haircuts but not shampoo. I love live music, but I never spend money on concerts, and I'm not sure why.

I suspect your buying patterns are the same combination of intentional and completely contradictory. What do you spend money on?

Tonight I watched Freedom Writers on DVD. (If there's a new release I want to see, I try to get to Blockbuster the first week it's out. I can't prove it, but I believe there's a little Blockbuster gnome who creeps into the store on Franklin Road late at night and strategically scratches each movie so that it stops playing about 30 minutes before the end.)

I nabbed this one on Tuesday so it was scratch-free and I enjoyed the heartwarming, if somewhat predictable, plot. What really struck me was the sense of family that room 203 came to develop over two years' time. Black, white, Cambodian and Latino students who previously hated each other developed tolerance, then grudging respect, then true friendship, and in that one classroom found a refuge from the gang warfare and racial tension that marked the rest of their lives.

I found myself jealous--not of living in LA after the Rodney King verdict or losing friends to drive-bys, of course. But I was jealous of the sense of safety and belonging that each person felt in this class. No matter what was happening outside, the students knew that the others in 203 understood their journey, and they felt safe to be truly themselves.

I have a small circle of friends, developed over time, one at a time, scattered around the country, that comprise a safe "place" for me. I wouldn't trade them for anything. But I do wish I could belong to a small group--or a church--that wrestled through hard questions and encouraged each other's uniqueness and bonded the way that class did. I'd never leave a church like that.

Seth Godin offers some good advice for small churches struggling to maintain a web site--namely, create a blog, create a Squidoo lens (could it be because he founded Squidoo?) and post some unique photos. In other words, create a web presence without a traditional, big-investment website.

Like so many other Godin tips, it's simple but smart.

Read "Memo to the very small" at http://sethgodin.typepad.com/

Behind the music

As sometimes happens, Arron scooped me. For several weeks I've been thinking about worship, and--practically speaking--how this might translate into choosing a church here in Nashville. And earlier this week Arron posted some great thoughts on the importance of meaningful worship, regardless of "style" or song choice.

The fact that we're both thinking about these issues actually isn't surprising; much of the evangelical world is wrestling with the "now what" question as it pertains to corporate worship. After the progression from hymns to Maranatha to Integrity to Hillsongs to Vineyard to Passion, we seem to be coming full circle with a new generation eager to embrace hymns again.

In fact, many not only want the hymns, they want the liturgy, the labyrinths, the stations of the cross, and the recited prayers. They want mysticism and candles. Most of all, I think they want a sense that this is bigger than the charismatic pastor up front and the coffee bar and the rock-climbing wall.

In our quest to be relevant, in our insistence on warehouse churches and electric guitars, we've lost a sense of awe and reverence in our services. We've lost the ancient rhythm of the church year which the Episcopalians beautifully describe as a dance. In some cases, we've lost doctrinal meat and rich truths that the hymns and responsive readings provide and that "Trading My Sorrows" does not.

This came into sharper focus as I began looking for a church here. I loved my church in California and in many ways it avoided the stereotypes--one of the reasons I made it my church in California. But I spend a lot of time in churches and I found myself dreading the process of visiting a series of them here, experiencing the same services with four of CCLI's top 25 songs and the same messages with videos from Worship House. I dreaded the conversational prayers peppered with "Lord, just...." or "Father, we ask for your help and, Father, that you'd be with us, Father, and...."

I know I sound so critical. But my criticism is that "contemporary" and "relevant" have become as predictable as the "traditional" services they replaced. What's needed in the churches I visit is not a great drummer or cutting-edge graphics (although I happen to be a big fan of both). What's needed is time to hear large portions of scripture and let it seep down into your heart. What's needed is time to pray and to reflect on the words being said and to make them our own prayers. What's needed is time to confess.

Sooner or later I'll find a church here. Its services may include the entire set list from Chris Tomlin's new album or its most contemporary feature may be padding on the pews. I don't care, as long as I can glimpse I AM in the midst of it.

A promise

No matter how much I want to be there, and no matter how convinced I am that the rest of the world adores my three children ages two through five, I will never bring them to a Good Friday service and allow them to cry, talk, and loudly announce they "have to potty" while the minister dramatically reads Matthew 26.

There are just some things you don't get to do if you have small children, and I promise to remember that after mine arrive, even if every other parent in this country does not.

I will not take them to movie theaters to see anything that is not animated (and maybe not even those until they're school-aged), I will not lug them to Disneyland and force them to miss their naptime and then punish them for being cranky in the Happiest Place on Earth, all while annoying hundreds of other people by running my stroller into their ankles, and I will not take them to weddings since there is at least a 50% chance the bride and groom will only do this once and do not want the primary memory to be a baby crying.

If there is a nursery, I will review the safety practices in place and then leave my child there during the church service, as hard as it might be to accept that the tot will be able to handle an entire hour out of my presence (and might even enjoy it). If for some reason I must keep the child with me during the service, I will step outside the instant the inevitable crying/ whining/ whimpering/ screeching/ squealing starts, rather than expecting the kid to suddenly be quiet because I look at him sternly or move him from one side of my lap to the other.

This is my promise to you all.

Glamour "shots"

Of all the reactions I expected when I began this blog, the one I wasn't prepared for was criticism of my photo. A couple of readers, all of them friends and all of them, I'm sure, with my best interests at heart, emailed to ask why I picked that picture and didn't I have a better one? Truth is, the photo came from the point and click camera on my cell phone and it was kind of an afterthought. That's not false modesty--if I had a magazine-cover-caliber picture you can bet I would have used it. But we needed one ASAP and this generally looks like me so up it went.

I'm just a girl with a blog that (hopefully) some people read every week, and yet even "nobodies" like me get a little of this pressure. (Although I do wonder if Arron and Brian got any comment on their CS blog photos.) I can't imagine how women in the public eye wrestle with it. So I loved Nichole Nordeman's brutally honest article in the latest issue of CCM Magazine in which she writes about the paradox of Christian artists "trying desperately, through our music, to point to the liberating love of Jesus while packaging that music in a way that points to ... well ... us."

She interviews 13 other people in the industry (men and women), including Bethany Dillon (age 18) and Amy Grant (43?). They admit to eating disorders, struggles with self-esteem, and lots and lots of airbrushing. "It's all smoke and mirrors," says Grant, a comforting reminder to women like me who wonder HOW she looks that way after four children.

The fact that the question has crossed my mind reinforces the point--we want Christian artists to be "authentic," but we also expect them to be thin, polished, and every bit as good-looking as their secular counterparts. It's like the guys who claim to want a woman with "natural beauty"--do they know how many products it takes to achieve that?

CCM published this article in their April issue for a reason--several of the musicians mention that the pressure to have the perfect "look" is especially intense during GMA week, the Gospel Music Association's parade of concerts, interviews, and awards that happens each spring. "When GMA week and the Doves roll around, I find myself seeing people I love and admire, yet comparing myself," says Natalie Grant. "I notice how thin she is or what she is wearing, or how great her hair looks. I hate that about myself."

It's likely that I'll be one of the many media people interviewing artists during this year's GMA palooza, and it will be interesting to see them up close (and un-airbrushed). It will also be interesting to see how many of them are "authentically" gracious or "authentically" rude. As grandmothers the world over remind us, "Pretty is as pretty does." But I still got an overpriced haircut today, and I still plan to look better than my blog photo.