There are some teeny, tiny shadows of a wrinkle beginning to form under my eye.

Corbin says I’m being paranoid, and I agree with that statement – no one else can tell except me, I still look much younger than I really am. I have good genes and take care of my skin. It’s such a small thing.

It’s a sign, though, that the inevitable is happening. I am aging. Why am I surprised at this? After all, I’ve aged to my late twenties now. I have lived the transformation of child to teen to adult. What makes this transition weird or frightening?

I’ve aways said I want to age gracefully, to be shining with joy inside and out, never obsess over gray hair or crinkles and be beautiful in spirit even as my outward shell fades away. I’ve always told myself that I’m going to be fiercely committed to embracing my age after watching my mom’s generation keep dying their hair forever.

All that’s easy to say, though, until it actually starts to happen to you. It’s unsettling.

I could blame our modern culture that only seems to value youth and the young (it’s called “Forever 21” for a reason), and that’s not wrong. Our young people to an extent dictate culture and cool, and you seem to get somewhat discarded as you get older. You’re only shiny for a limited amount of time, you aren’t pretty once you get old, your potential seems the greatest when you’re 18 or 21 or whatever.

I think some of it is the fear of change. But I think a lot of it has to do with watching my body, in real time, decay. I know in my head that I am dust, and that I will eventually be dust again, but to actually experience that slow, creeping time clock is a little scary. To watch it work, to feel yourself getting older and closer to death each day.

My relationship with Jesus brings sanity to my life – being able to see and understand clearly, to have hope and not be afraid, and I praise God for that. He doesn’t remove the reality, however, of time and sin’s effects on my body. Romans 8, where creation is crying out to be remade and redeemed, includes my own physical self.

And that’s hard. We can’t separate our souls from our bodies; we are enmeshed, holistic beings, and this is the only “place” we live while on this earth. It’s the only one you get, and you have to watch it crumble while you still live inside it. It’s grievous and horrible to bear the effects of sin’s weight so shot up through this world in such an intimate way.

I think this is one of those things I’ll need to keep facing and accepting, facing and accepting, and giving to Jesus in complaint (this is hard, please come back and remake it all) and simultaneous praise (I am fearfully and wonderfully made, you are at work, and you know what it’s like to be human). Jesus never had to deal with old age, but he knows the deep limitations and frustrations of a body subjected to this fallen world. He knows pain and physical agony and frustration and sadness more than I ever will. And He doesn’t abandon me or go away or cast me off because I’m not seventeen and unwrinkled and glimmery and fULL oF pOtENtiAL. What a deep comfort and companion He is.

Plodding along, I use my Neutrogena Rapid Wrinkle Repair and my SPF. I buy a silk pillowcase to try and “smooth my skin to prevent fine lines and blah blah blah.” I use Korean skincare stuff and Vitamin C serum and Burt’s Bees undereye cream. I’m stewarding my body as best as I can, because that’s part of tending and caring for what God has entrusted me with. And life goes on – thanking Him for everything I’m able to do, and how I can love others and love Him and worship. And Jesus is there with me, holding my hand when I see another shadowy mark or crinkle or crepey thing or whatever and I remember that I’m a little bit closer to being with Him. And the Spirit whispers that my inner self is being renewed every.single.day and I’m one step closer to that eternal weight of glory. And I rejoice that these hands and this face and these legs and feet are in service to the King and He has deigned to task me with purpose and filled me with Himself to pour out on others. I bring glory to Him every day just by breathing and living and praising and obeying and loving.

And I remember with flutters of joy that this is only the beginning.