My father was bald. So was my grandfather on my mother’s side.
When I was in the fifth form our science teacher told us if your father was bald and your grandfather on your mother’s side was bald, there was a 100 percent chance that you would become bald too.
Science had struck a cruel blow.
I first noticed it in my late twenties. When I showered and washed my hair there would be a pile of black hair at the bottom of the shower cubicle.
In my mid-thirties I started trying the comb-over. I could hide my receding hairline by spreading my hair from the left side of my head up and over my bald spot.
This worked well when I was inside, but was highly ineffective in the Wellington wind.
One day I noticed a middle aged man with the ultimate comb-over.
He had a part that started from beneath his ear lobe and spread a greasy matted pile of hair over the top of his head. It looked ridiculous.
I asked myself the question.
Is this how I wanted to look like in the future?
It did not take me long to say no.
Then I made the decision.
After I had my first number two hair cut I felt this exhilarating freedom.
I did not have to hide the real me.
I felt more comfortable in my own skin.
I could walk confidently, whether I was inside or outside, in total abandonment freed from the worries of the comb-over.
Becoming a believer
When I became a Christian in my mid-forties I had another epiphany.
I began to understand that God really loved me for who I was as his child. I did not have to compare myself to anyone else.
I could see God looking down on the world and seeing all these tiny black, grey, brown and blond specks.
And God looked down on me and saw a tiny shiny speck.
I was special.
I was unique.
Warts and all.
I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made;
Your works are wonderful I know that full well.
My frame was not hidden from you when I was made in the secret place.
When I was woven together in the depths of the earth.
Each one should test his own actions. Then he can take pride in himself, without comparing himself to somebody else.
It breaks my heart when I witness teenagers feeling inadequate about their appearance because they dwell on minor body imperfections. Some young woman see their only hope as plastic surgery.
They are on a quest for never-ending cosmetic perfection.
Their worldly success is determined by how they look rather than who they are.
Few measure success by character and heart.
The perfect example
I have come to realise that the quest for perfection should not be measured in worldy ways but in being more like Jesus.
The more time we spend with Jesus the more we will become like him.
The better we get to know him the better we will reflect him.
As we spend time with him we will begin to look like and think like him.
And it does not have to be a performance exercise based on how many minutes or hours we spend alone with Jesus.
It can start with this simple prayer at the beginning of each day.
“Lord help me to spend this day loving you and carrying out your will”.
Every good and perfect gift is from above, coming down from the Father of heavenly lights, who does not change like shifting shadows.
Wayne worked in the media for more than 30 years before leaving to follow a call to set up The Daily Encourager, a values based media showcasing the best of New Zealand society. He has a passion for Jesus, enjoys walking, ball sports, the arts and song writing.