Makeup and My Need for Love

By on August 15, 2018

By Gloria Rose—

The best thing a woman can do to look younger is beef up her eyebrows, declared the beauty website. I made a mental note.

The make-up counter sales rep with artificial lashes and shimmery eyelids asked if she could help me. Soon we were trying samples of various brow enhancements. I selected a French taupe-colored cream and she went to work applying it on one of my eyebrows with quick, light strokes. The rep then pulled a tube out of her pocket and told me it was important to put concealer both below and above the brow, to highlight it and keep the cream in place. She held a mirror up for me to see. It was true. Compared to the other brow, the one the rep made up was a slight improvement. However, well-formed brows cannot stand alone. Using a Q-tip to apply “just a little bit,” she patted an eye-brightening serum under my eyes. Then more concealer. 

I asked how much the serum cost. “Only $69.” Cringing, I declined. She offered a sample to “take home and try for a few days.” We searched the store for the perfect brush for me to apply eyebrow cream myself.

Eyebrow cream, brush, and concealer: $78.47 at checkout.

I felt uneasy as I departed the store. This amount of money— for my eyebrows no less— wasn’t in my budget.

That evening I reconciled my bank account. Yikes. Not as much as I’d hoped. Will I be able to give something to my church this month? I’ll keep that as a maybe, until I know for sure, I decided.

Very. Uncomfortable. Feeling. 

I’d railed against a girlfriend in my mind only this morning. She declined to join me for a walk. “I’ve got an appointment at the spa. It took a month to get in. They’re going to laser my neck and hopefully lessen the wrinkles. I know it will hurt, but I can’t wait!”

What a waste of money. No. My exact thoughts were: She’s so narcissistic. All she thinks about is how she looks. She could care less that there are children living in this very town who are hungry. 

My spirit sank. I’d condemned my friend for the very thing I did.

Shame screamed, Hypocrite! 

I prayed for grace.

I knew it wasn’t the makeup or the money per se. It was continually falling prey to the dazzling invitations to buy this or that in order to be more attractive, more youthful, more up-to-date, more…


Facing the truth troubled me. Was I still insecure about my womanhood? About my worth? The cultural message that only gorgeous women are loved barrages me daily. I buy more and more, seeking to feel worthy of love.

Why? I know God loves me. My thoughts wandered to past experiences of His love.

When my husband unexpectedly left our marriage, I shot desperate, broken-hearted prayers heavenward: Jesus, I’m sinking here. Help! In a hundred ways, He showed me He was there. I remembered the morning in my car when I was too distraught to get out and go in to work. My husband was getting remarried that very day. I noticed my Bible on the front seat and opened it to the place where I’d been reading: “For your Maker is your husband—the Lord Almighty is his name…” (Isaiah 54:5 NIV) I knew these words were written by a prophet for the nation of Israel. I also knew Jesus was saying those words to me right then and there. I felt held by God.

Through a book appearing at just the right time, a friend calling when I needed to talk, or a song on the radio, Jesus trumpeted His love to me. I grew to trust Him, to rely on Him. 

What about now? Did I still trust His love?

Yes. More than ever. For a moment, I felt sadness. I’d been looking for love in all the wrong places. Another scripture floated up: “Never will I leave you; never will I forsake you.” (Hebrews 13:5 NIV) Ours was a bond I could count on, no matter what.

Does this mean I won’t buy makeup anymore? Most likely not. Next time, however, when approaching the makeup counter, I’ll pause and ask myself:

 Am I secure in God’s love for me right now?

Gloria Rose is a writer who seeks to awaken readers to the unlimited possibilities of a life lived joined to our Creator. She writes at and

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Makeup and My Need for Love