We’re working on the final edits for the Starlite website right now. The new site is absolutely gorgeous — and such a step up from what we’ve had in the past. I am counting down the very seconds until I get to show it to you. I think I’m more excited for my interlings to see it than anyone else!

One of the things that is still left is to choose a picture for the page that has my bio on it. I’ve put that decision off because? Hello? Who likes to select a picture of herself for a website?

But I have to choose and I think we’ve settled on this one:

What I think you’ll really find funny about the picture, however, is the un-cropped version:

See that mess behind me?  That’s because this picture was taken while I was in the middle of wrapping gifts for a bridal shower I was hosting later that day.  I didn’t have time to clean it up before, but I was told it wouldn’t matter — the junk would be cropped out later on.  In other words, no one would see my secret — that I had I had quite the messy living room when this picture was taken.

As I was looking at the pictures earlier today, I started thinking about something I wrote a few weeks ago for my college girls in Starlite that goes along with these pictures. And so even though you’re not my college girls, I thought I’d share it with you, too.  So slip on your sweatshirt and leggings, put your hair in a ponytail and grab some Ramen noodles. Trust me — you’ll fit right in.

Almost a year ago, a friend called me with panic in her voice. She kept stumbling over her words, but I finally figured out that she was trying to tell me that there was a picture of me that had been posted online that was more than unflattering. I got the website out of her and quickly logged on to see if it was true.

One glance and I was on my way home to my townhouse, literally ready to crawl under my covers and wait for a new millennium to begin. The picture was horrible and — though I knew it wasn’t an actual picture of me — the “artist” had apparently used a friend’s photo of me, a file photo of someone else’s body and Photoshop to his advantage.

He had created a monster and thoughtfully attached my name to it before posting it for all to see. He even left some personal comments with the image, including one about his guess as to what I weigh. He was about 100 pounds over in his guesstimate, but really, who’s counting?

I was far too devastated and embarrassed to be angry. I contacted him personally and first politely — then tearfully — asked for it to be removed. He refused. Said he wanted people to see what the leader of Starlite Ministries really looked like. I guess what he meant is that he wanted people to see what the leader of Starlite Ministries really looked like in his mind since the person in the image wasn’t really me.

Now, stay with me here.

At church this past Sunday morning, they were projecting Pastor Robert’s image onto two screens behind him. I was almost startled by how he appeared on the screens because the image looked very different than what I was seeing in real life. There was a resemblance, of course, but I couldn’t get over how different his image looked projected on a screen verses the real-life version of him standing right in front of me.

It reminded me of how I felt back when that picture of me first hit the internet. I knew what the real me looked like, but I was seeing that image distorted on a screen. It didn’t matter how many of my close friends called to say that the image didn’t look anything like me; it had my name on it. And somewhere in the darkness that the pain was causing, I had started to believe the lie that I was seeing in front of me really was me.

As I started writing this tonight, I flipped back in my private diary to that season of my life and the lies were there, written in my own familiar handwriting. I called myself names that no one else would dare. I stuck labels on myself that even my worst enemies wouldn’t dream of bringing to me. The things I said about myself — my God, to myself — are too horrible to even print here.

But each time I wrote them, I believed them a bit more and they became etched onto my heart until I was sure that I had always been and would always be the distorted image of myself that stared back at me on my computer screen.

My lie that I believed isn’t that far from yours, you know.

It is the same lie that says that if people knew your secret, they’d never look you in the eyes again.

It is the stern voice telling you that you must have wanted, no deserved, for that man to violate you in a way that you may never put into words.

It is the sweet taste of the syrup-like medicine flowing from the amber bottle as you promise yourself that this is the last time you’ll need it to fall asleep.

It is the seductive voice that tells you that it doesn’t matter if you go a bit further tonight, cross one more line with him.

It is the taunting you hear splashing around in the water from the showerhead while you reach for the razor and hold out your arm.

It is the whisper in the darkness of your bedroom that reminds you that you’ll never break that addiction to p*rn, that you’ll continue logging on night after night.

It is the hangover you wake up with in the morning that still somehow seems worth the time you spent not feeling anything the night before.

“The enemy reached out to take all her favorite things.” Lamentations 1:10

I could sum it up rather tidily right here, but I think that God would prefer to do it Himself. Go stand in front of that mirror again and see if you can hear another, softer voice. I think you’ll recognize His voice.