Why don’t people love God?
What’s not to love?!?!?
He created you to be you.
He knit you together in your mother’s womb.
He knew you in the deep, dark recesses of your emergence.
He created your thoughts and your feelings.
And, He freckled you!
He mixed together all the variations of color to make you, YOU!
My frame was not unseen by you when I was made secretly, and strangely formed in the lowest parts of the earth. ~Psalm 139:15 (BBE)
Oh, the first time I heard that He is responsible for all these freckles that COVER my body, I was amazed and finally thankful to understand it was His plan all along!!!?!!!
He was the one to blame for all those years of incessant teasing.
He was the one who decided I needed to be the laughing stock of my classmates.
He was the one who determined I would be explaining my freckles to my students and strangers, my children and their friends, nieces and nephews, and someday, hopefully, grandchildren!! Children notice differences…and the little freckled-faced-red-headed-kid can become the brunt of much teasing, and sometimes, bullying.
My nephew asked the other day if I had freckles everywhere. In response I sang the little ditty,
“She’s got freckles on her but(t) she’s pretty.”
He grinned with embarrassment, knowing the common verse in our family. Thankfully, my mom and dad sang it often to bring a smile to my face after another day of relentless teasing at school. I did realize, to some, my freckles were beautiful.
The first time my son noticed the different colors of people, we were standing in line to get some ice cream. The lady behind us was of African descent and he was impressed with her skin color. He exclaimed,
“Look, Mommy! She’s covered in chocolate.”
His being two years of age and not having any clue of the racial tension such a comment could create, I smiled big and gave her a wink while explaining to my guy,
“Yes, and you’re vanilla. I guess I must be chocolate-chip!”
After years of hating my looks, how did I come to a place of acceptance? I mean, come on people! Haven’t you stared at someone with huge dark freckles — not the little pinprick adorable ones, but the big-splotchy-you-can’t-figure-out-what’s-all-over-her kind — and wondered what you would do if you had to deal with that? I know you have, because I’ve seen the wide-eyed stares all my life and I still get the questions. Although, thankfully, they’ve faded considerably since my youth.
Once, when I went for a ManiPedi, I noticed the manicurist staring at my arms in confusion. I asked if she had ever seen anyone with so many freckles. Her response:
No. But, I’m not scared.
Wha?!? In that moment, I realized some people may think it’s a disease. (Sigh.) I quickly let her know that I’m not contagious and they wouldn’t rub off, that God had chosen to freckle me in this way. He has a sense of humor and, in His mind, I must be beautiful for He declares through His servant, King David:
I am skillfully and wonderfully made!
You watched me as I was being formed in utter seclusion, as I was woven together in the dark of the womb. (NLT)
In the ancient Hebrew it could say:
I was freckled in the dark of the womb.
Wow.
Just wow.
He wrote that verse for me!
I was twenty-eight when I first saw the truth. The Bible teacher had no idea of the amazing affirmation that verse spoke to me. Me!?! One who had questioned His love because of the years of torment I endured. How could I be loved by the God of the Universe when I was so ugly and freakish to those I met day-to-day? Boys, following me home after school, would yell taunts and further humiliate my fragile esteem. Until high school I felt I was the ‘goon’ [Popeye reference] of my class. It had been a word used in reference to me and some words are very hard to erase from the memory.
But, the truth sets you free!
I finally understood what the Creator, our Elohim, had done. He skillfully wrought me in the depths of my mother’s womb to be the person I am today. It was an act of creation formed in love. He knew the purposes and plans He had for me. He knew what all I would endure over such a silly thing as freckles. And yet, He moved forward in decorating me just as you see me today.
Still freckled.
Still with a fragile esteem.
Yet, thankful.
I am thankful for the love of the Potter in strangely forming this simple piece of pottery.
It is up to the Potter to determine if a vessel is to be used for honor or shame.
And, whichever He chooses — knowing the moments of our lives have made us into the people we are today —
It is for His glory.
What’s not to love?!?
Consider Jesus 
Hi Sis <3,
Just read your post and i'm happy you found the freckle verse when you had need of it. 🙂
This is by no means a criticism, just the perspective from my side (and i fully realise that while you used the word 'blame' you are by no means laying blame upon Him.):
The years of incessant teasing can only be blamed upon the part of our human nature that likes to pick on those who are not as we are; who have obvious physical or mental differences to the 'norm'. It is instigated by bullies and continued with by those too weak to stand up for what is right who are likely just glad it is not them getting picked on. The difference is often of skin colour, or both low and high intelligence (freaks, nerds, brainiacs, etc.). It can be the way we speak (eg. foreign accent), the way we dress, or are dressed by our parents as children, the way we love (eg. same sex) or even the way we pray, or that we pray at all.
Similarly, it was 'us' who made the decision to laugh at you or who you felt needed something by way of 'explanation' (apology?)
God creates everything including us in almost infinite variety and all are equally beautiful to Him and it is His desire for us to be able to see likewise. That we often fail to do so is up solely to each one of us.
As i KNOW you know, God is Blameless, human faults are ours and ours alone often through our failure to always see things through loving eyes; as God sees us.
Wishing you all love and peace on your Path,
love.
Hey, Love! My path is tough these days. I’m working again and it takes every bit of energy to get out the door. I haven’t spent much time here, but keep remembering there was something I hadn’t finished. You…I forgot to respond to you. O.o
I love your response to my story. I can tell you read with compassion and understanding. Thank you. It was tough being bullied for years and, I believe, it set me up for much confusion about myself. However, on this side of asking “why” and then, receiving real answers from our God who cares about what concerns us, I am thankful for the way He chose to create me. Thank you, also, for understanding that I am not placing blame, but am recognizing His will for me as He knit me together in my mother’s womb. He knew where all of His choices concerning me would lead. I can, and do, trust in His goodness.
It’s always encouraging to hear from you.
Thanks again, dear friend.