As I cut my hair today, I was thinking about the difference between men and women. Well, more precisely, my preferences about hair. I cut my hair short. Why? I like it that way. It gets greasy, thick, and when it gets long, I get distracted by the part. Since it's just me, I cut it the way I like. Vania seems to like rubbing my head when my hair is short too.
When my girls were little, I wanted them to have long hair. This is what caught my interest - I find women's long hair attractive, and my own long hair annoying. The difference is interesting, to me anyway.
Growing up, my school had policies around length of hair. Boys couldn't be too long nor girls too short. Yes, this probably influenced my preferences. Well, at least my preferences about my hair. Being a very habitual person (or obsessive, but let's not split hairs), I got trained by repetition to feel comfortable with short hair.
Finding long hair attractive is entirely a personal preference. My mother sported both styles, at different periods in her life. My grandmother had shorter hair, which she liked to keep in a perm. I say that because it doesn't seem to be related to women that I knew growing up. Like having a favorite color, I just like it. There is no reason.
What happened when they asked to get their hair cut? Believe it or not, I thought about that a lot, even before they asked. I took this stance - I told them that I prefer long hair. I would like them to have long hair. But I intentionally did not come right out and say no. Why? Because I wanted them to make their own decisions.
Sure, when they were young, we never gave them the option. As they got older and became teenagers, they had to start making their own decisions. And we won't talk the one daughter who had a knot so big they had to cut her hair just to get it out. Totally different.
This reminded me of a passage in John where Jesus says, kind of in passing, that His Father gave Jesus control over His life. It was Jesus's decision to give it away or keep it. God did not force Jesus to die on a cross. God did not command it. God gave Jesus not only the option, but also the power to not die. Yet Jesus acted as if this were a matter of obedience.
God explained His story. Asked His Son to play a part in that story. And Jesus saw this as obedience. Far too often we equate obedience with authority and control. Jesus had control the entire time. He obeyed because He wanted to. This is maturity. We don't obey God because He's some old man in the sky who's going to hurt me at the slightest mis-step. I obey God because He has repeatedly demonstrated that despite my rebellious nature, He does everything He can for my good. Or put in simple terms - He loves me.
There's a bunch of other stuff bouncing around. I think I'll end here though. This is weird enough just from a haircut.
