With or Without: Death to Decorum

I went to conference “naked.”

Annual conference means you see people once or twice a year. So before you pack, you do nails. You do lashes. You have to be presentable.

I didn’t.
No acrylics. No lashes. Just me.

And the truth is: you’re not ugly or less of a woman because of your bare nails and lashes.
But I’m a girl who went to a girls school. I live in a world where pretty privilege is real and being beautiful does get you better treatment. Hear me well — I’m not saying pretty people are dumb. I’m saying sometimes people prioritize aesthetics over depth.

Aesthetics matter. A little more than they should.

I grew up in a strict home surrounded by strong, independent, powerhouse women. “What will people say” was ingrained in my brain long before I was conscious of it.

So there in the hall, while everyone was dancing and I wanted nothing more than to raise my hands in worship, I hesitated.
Reluctant, because of the judgment I anticipated from everyone behind me.
From the boys: “this girl doesn’t love herself, doesn’t take care of herself. Plain Jane. Tomboy. One of the guys.”
From the girls: “ewww, does she not love herself? How could she forget the most important aspect of conference preps?”
Whether it’s the most important thing is debatable, to put it lightly. But yeah.
How awkward. How embarrassing. How… unladylike.

Unladylike.
Honestly, it’s up there with my top 3 biggest fears.
Being a lady and not looking like one. And ultimately, not being treated like one.

And the irony? Against the backdrop of this entire internal debate was a crowd worshipping with all their might. A room full of people I’m not familiar with. One or two I might bump into tomorrow at breakfast or in the parking lot. Bodies without a face, honestly.
But somehow, these “opinions” mattered to me.

Mind you, no one said anything.
I just believed that’s what they would say. Forgetting that they too could be getting lost in the worship, like me.

But ultimately the Spirit overrode my fears, my shame, anxiety and fear of judgment.

In that moment, I heard it, in my spirit:
“With or without.”
No explanation.
I didn’t need one.

In that moment, years of conditioning and behavioral training through shame and fear were shattered in one sentence, a phrase.

I am loved.
Right here.
Right now.
Nothing to do, say, and most importantly, nothing to prove.

I am not being chosen now. I was chosen before God laid the foundations of the earth.

Moses told me — Exodus 19:5-6 “Now therefore, if you will indeed obey my voice and keep my covenant, you shall be my treasured possession among all peoples, for all the earth is mine; and you shall be to me a kingdom of priests and a holy nation.”

Jeremiah reminded me — Jeremiah 1:5 “Before I formed you in the womb I knew you, and before you were born I consecrated you; I appointed you a prophet to the nations.”

And Peter reminded me too — 1 Peter 2:

“But you are a chosen race, a royal priesthood, a holy nation, a people for his own possession, that you may proclaim the excellencies of him who called you out of darkness into his marvelous light.”

Here in this moment of hesitation and confusion, a choice had to be made.
I had to ask myself why I was there, what I was doing — worshipping — and who I was doing it for — myself and to connect with God.

Had I been performing, I wouldn’t have lifted up my hands because my “costume” was incomplete. I wasn’t fully prepared for the “stage.”
But it was never about them and their opinions.
It was about lifting up my hands. Literally reaching out to heaven like a toddler to their father. Our heavenly Father.

My Father who rejoices over me with singing and quiets my fears with His love.

Zephaniah 3:17 “The LORD your God is in your midst, a mighty one who will save; he will rejoice over you with gladness; he will quiet you by his love; he will exult over you with loud singing.”

He shattered years of misconceptions about my identity. Who the world tells me to be vs who I already am in Him. In minutes.
He met me in the hesitation.
It is He who gave me the strength to endure the first humiliation.

I’ll tell you about the second one in part two. The dancing.

With or without.
He’s still singing.