I am blessed by a handful of best friends with whom I rarely quarrel. There is, however, a non-negotiable point of contention within one of these relationships: I cannot, under any circumstances, straighten my hair without getting an earful from my college roommate, Julie.
It all began one fateful, Friday night in 2013…I was feeling inspired by Olivia Pope’s sleek Scandal style, so naturally I fired up my straightener I’d recently bought on sale at Sephora and got to work. Confidently cantering into the kitchen, I received words of praise from our other roommates, the three of us immediately scheming about what mischief we could achieve with this new ‘do.
But not Julie. She remained silent, staring across the room, jaw hanging in disbelief, finally mustering out an exasperated, “HOW COULD YOU?!”
“Excuse me?” I responded, truly shocked by her dissatisfaction. “WHY would you do this to yourself?” she pressed again, walking over to examine firsthand my insulted handiwork. “I love your curls. How could you risk damaging them like this?”
Now I was the one with the agape mouth. Julie cared deeply…for my curly hair? I mean, I love my curls, truly…but this was as though I’d really done something awful. It was like I’d betrayed her.
“Listen, I appreciate your concern, but I don’t think one single swoop of a straightener will have any long-term effects,” I reassured her. “I’m pretty sure when I walk outside the humidity will reactivate my curls.” Reluctantly, Julie conceded: “Just…promise me you keep your curls. They are you.”
Reflecting a decade later, I can confirm that my best friend was correct that day. Curls and I are synonymous. However, there’s danger in taking stock in a physical—and fleeting—attribute. Because the reality is, I very well might not have these curls forever. Actually, I certainly will not.
In 1 Corinthians 15, Paul explains, “So will it be with the resurrection of the dead. The body that is sown is perishable, it is raised imperishable; it is sown in dishonor, it is raised in glory; it is sown in weakness, it is raised in power; it is sown a natural body, it is raised a spiritual body.”
I do believe my hair is special. But then I think about my friend going through chemotherapy right now. She didn’t hesitate to receive a potentially life-saving treatment in order to preserve her hair. And I know women whose hair texture changes after having a baby. Do you think they would trade their curls of the past for their child of the present? Absolutely not.
Whether my hair is straightened or bouncy, smooth or frizzy, thick or graying, these curls will inevitably transform into ash one day. I pray that time is far from now, however I take solace in the promise of a heavenly body. Easter is coming because Christ went to the cross and died for our sins. Just as a hairstyle couldn’t separate a friendship, neither can death separate us from God.
Rachel Fisher 