Last month, my one bad haircut got me to thinking about a fad that has swept across our
country. First the haircut:
Patty and I have been married for 42 years, and for
almost all of those years she has given me my regular
haircuts. You see, my hair grows in odd ways—part is straight, part
is highly curly. And too often in my youth, barbers, not knowing how
to handle it, would rake the wire brush through the curls in
an attempt to blend the resulting coiffure. Coming from
families of cue balls on both sides, I credit any hair I have left to the
loving touch of my wife who learned how to cut hair all those years back in order to deal with my troublesome locks (not to minimize
the fact that over the four decades we have saved literally thousands of
dollars in haircut charges). Patty has it down to a
science, which makes what happened last month all the
more eventful.
At certain points in the cut, Patty changes from
scissors to electric clippers. And she progresses through a series of
attachments to the clippers for the different lengths needed at different parts
of the head—3/4", 1/2", 3/8" etc. Well, on this
particular Friday, she had removed one of the attachments and we were engrossed
in a conversation about some topic of global political interest, when she saw a
spot she had missed. Still thinking the
last length attachment was on the clippers, she proceeded to deal with the
errant strands on the back of my head. That's when I heard her
scream, "Oh no!"
Yep. In applying the clippers without any
size guard, Patty had made an almost perfect square all the way down to my
scalp before she realized it and pulled the machine
away. Immediately she burst into tears, "I've never done that
before" she cried. "How are you going to look when you go
outside in public?" In contrast to her terror, my response was
to laugh and make a joke of it. Perhaps, given the modern societal
tendency to "go viral" with anything out of the normal, maybe I could
start a new craze. We might just see a whole bunch of people walking
on the streets with square bald patches on the back of their
heads. She laughed. I calculated that she had probably
given me over 320 haircuts in our marriage. All were good, except this one, so
she was batting 0.997—not bad! Besides, it will grow out.
A couple of days later, I was leading service at
church. Patty had tried her best to patch the wayward spot
up with black mascara, but it was still noticeable so I told everyone what had
happened, how blessed I had been to have had all these good haircuts all these
years, and now—well… And Patty got on board in telling the tale, and
now everyone was laughing, and the "square" jokes for me were
many. But, if you think about it, we could all laugh because
everyone knows, "it will grow back." And it did, and now
the back of my head is as boring as ever.
That's the nice part about hair. In our
youth many of us have tried strange styles or a different and maybe shocking
color. But hair grows back. Dyes
wash out or grow out. These are not permanent, and the foolish
moment is only remembered by old photos.
And maybe you will call me "square," but
that is what I find so disturbing about the current tattooing
obsession. It does not wash out or grow out. Unless the
person undergoes painful, expensive, and only partially successful procedures,
it is always there and always will be there—the green, black and dull reds
encircling, swallowing up, arms, legs, torsos, and even faces.
You have to remember, when I
was growing up in the 1960's, very, very few people had tattoos (I saw one
source that claims that today 30% of the people in the United States have at
least one tattoo and almost half of all millennials have one). Back
in those days, now and then you would see a man who had a tattoo, usually on
one bicep, marking his days in the service, and usually originating from the
youthful indiscretions of a night on leave. Women in middle-class
America never had tattoos. Tattooing parlors were few and far
between and relegated to the red-light districts of a city or county.
When the fad started to take off among average folk a
few decades back, initially the tattoos were small and
minimal. Women might get a small butterfly
or an inconspicuous vine drawn discretely on their bodies. But
rather than the "body-art" movement passing away as most other crazes
usually do, the tattoos have become ever larger, taking up whole limbs and
whole bodies, and ever more prevalent. Among the younger generations
they are at the point of becoming the norm.
The Bible warns against tattoos in the Old
Testament. In Leviticus 19:28, God says, "You shall not make
any cuttings in your flesh for the dead, nor tattoo any marks on you: I am the
LORD." And tattooing was associated with the occult practices
of pagan cultures. Looking at the New Testament, I've often wondered
if the current "body-art" trend will make it easier for the world to
accept the antichrist's all-controlling system which will require people to
take the mark of the beast on their right hand or their forehead to be able to
buy or sell (and tech companies have been working on "smart" tattoos
and tattoos with microchips for a number of years) (Revelation 13:16-18).
But beyond these Scriptural concerns, the ceaseless,
unchanging presence of the markings makes one question if the recipient has
fully understood his or her actions. Imagine if parents saw their
babies born with blobs of green, black, and dull red covering major portions of
the infant's body in that mottled patina that eventually all tattoos devolve
into. They would be in horror and panic, and a medical malpractice
case would surely be near. Yet young people are regularly marring healthy skin, in a way that,
even with laser treatments, cannot ever be fully regained.
Imagine telling someone to pick out a set of clothes
to wear—top and slacks, say—and then telling them that they will have to wear
that set (those exact colors, that very same cloth and pattern) every minute of
every day for the rest of their lives. They never
can take them off, no matter how dulled or "saggy" the clothes
become. Or imagine telling someone that they can only drive
one model and color of car their whole lives, or that they could never change
the paint colors on the walls of their homes or the curtains or
drapery. No remodeling whatsoever. Most people would balk
at such restraints, yet some freely give up those very rights and privileges on
their own body. The only modification possible: dump
on some more tattoos, making them ever larger and even more entrapping—and the
person more in bondage to the rash decisions of the past. I often
wonder whether, when a young woman proudly presents her new "artwork"
to her boyfriend or husband, as he is saying, "Oh, that's really
cool," if he's thinking instead, "I will never see her beautiful
naked arm again."
Is it not interesting that, at a time when those
things and institutions that should be permanent are crumbling—family,
marriages, faith in God, love and concern for children and parents, the
sacredness of life—that the people in our society are throwing away the real
freedoms and choices they do have, locking
themselves up in the unchangeable. Tattooing, if you think about it,
has really become a type of conformist uniform that cannot be
removed. Perhaps as our society is losing the things in life that are
important and should be enduring and stable, these visual proclamations are an
attempt at finding some type of anchor. But it is a hollow and
counterfeit mooring. Instead, Jesus is the answer. And
the permanent ink He writes with is written on the heart and on the soul.
Look, as I said earlier, many, many people today have
tattoos. Many Christians have tattoos. This is not a
matter of salvation. Jesus forgives us of our sins. And He forgives
us of all the stupid things we did in the past—even the ones we must wear
daily. You can be just as saved if you are covered head to toes with tattoos as someone whose skin is unchanged from
the womb. But… but… we must think of the children, the next
generation. If we hold on to, in pride, the "correctness"
of these foolish actions and do not teach the little ones that marking
themselves in such a way is against the wisdom of God, we condemn them to do
the same. We might justify ourselves, but we trap
them. And what might be considered by some as a "small
thing" can open the door to a greater attack by the enemy and his minions
on their young lives, as they lose self-respect for the body—the temple of the
Holy Spirit God gave to them. Call me "square" but I
choose teaching God's purity and wisdom to the children, that they might enjoy
a life blessed and separate from the changing whims of mankind.
Pastor Greg