When you look at me, depending on the lunar cycle, my pay cycle, and my mental health…I tend to have a relatively low haircut. Maybe a nice fade if the stars have aligned just right. While I like the joy of keeping my hair low up top it has been…a struggle to grow out facial hair that matches my enthusiasm. When many were baking that weird bread that was all the rage, playing Wordle, and other pandemic shenanigans, I made the brave choice to try and grow out some hair on my face. What could it hurt? I was bored in the house and in the house very bored. At every stage of the journey I have the memories of being back in my home city of Chicago. Men who have beards that don’t connect get…roasted. Growing up in that environment taught me how to keep my mouth shut and focused. One day I presumed I would be able to join my peers in the subtle art of nurturing a beard to fruition.
The awkward stage
The stubble
The eventual routine of moisturizing
later detangling…a whole process.
In thinking about what it takes to nurture and coax a robust beard…I have been thinking about the Gospel. What many refer to as the Good News. Salvation…You know. As a younger man I heard the constant teachings on this topic and was often compelled to share the Gospel with complete strangers.
Are you saved?
As I have gotten older though that question has taken a severe backseat.
Instead I tend to question…are you safe?