Battle of the Bald
Like someone who dismisses "flu symptoms" only to later find they were riddled with cancer, I failed to understand the signs. It must be the haircut, I reasoned. Or maybe it’s the way I’ve been combing or style it.
But recently I stepped out of the shower…and denial. One look in the mirror said it all. At just 29 years old, I was going bald. A moment of silence please. Thank you.
Seeking counsel about my disease (let’s call it what it is) has brought varied assessments. I went to a few sources all with the same question: Why me?
My doctor just shrugged and said, "Genetics."
My pastor lifted his hands heavenward and declared, "To reflect the glory of God."
My buddy yawned and mumbled, "Bummer, dude."
None of them seemed to grasp the magnitude of my predicament. I had to go deeper. So I cracked open my Bible with the urgency of a death row prisoner. Why me Lord? Without hair dangling in my eyes, I started to read Scripture with greater clarity.
The Bible’s most memorable mention of Alopecia (the medical name for baldness) comes in the book of 2 Kings. The bald head belongs to Elisha. I guess he got a double portion of everything, including forehead.
"Then he (Elisha) went up from there to Bethel; and as he was going up the road, some youths came from the city and mocked him, and said to him, 'Go up, you baldhead! Go up you baldhead!'" (Kings 2:23).
Well, it turns out that Elisha was sensitive about his marble top. He called down a curse on the scoffers. Two bears promptly emerged from the woods and gave the cocky kids more hair than they could handle. Now, I have to admit that this story used to trouble me. The act of judgment seemed harsh, even capricious. But now, in light of my affliction, totally justified. I learned a valuable lesson too. If I can’t stop my hair loss, I can always try cursing.
Next I came to Solomon. I know what you’re going to say. How do you know Solomon was bald? Well, I don’t. But after reading Ecclesiastes, I’m willing to bet 3 hairs he was at least receding. That kind of angst only comes from the ignominy of losing one’s hair.
Then there’s Paul. In every painting of Paul from antiquity, he’s sporting a receding hairline. Of course the artists never saw the apostle, but I think they had him pegged. Theologians argue endlessly about Paul’s "thorn in the flesh." Was it a problem with lust? Was it his poor eyesight? I solved the mystery. Paul was lamenting his baldness. "A messenger of Satan," he called it. I felt the same way.
I was also intrigued anew by the story of Samuel’s mother, Hannah. Like her, I languished under a scourge of barrenness. The locale was just different. She had a barren womb. I had a barren scalp. The inspiring thing about Hannah is that she decided to do something about her condition. Of course I explored the gamut of obligatory responses: applying strange ointments, hanging upside down, buying the cure de jour, cursing the day I was born. But I had yet to match the audacity of Hannah’s recourse–strike a deal with God. If you give me a son, Hannah prayed, "I will give him to the Lord" (1. Sam.11).
That’s it, I realized. I needed to make a deal with God. “Lord,” I pleaded. "If thou restoreth unto your bald servant the hair of mine head, it shall all be thine, from the frontal bone to the superior temporal line. Amen."
To beef up the deal I launched a time of mourning and repentance that would have made Jeremiah proud. I looked at old pictures of myself and wept. Who was that carefree young man I wondered, taking for granted the thick mane atop his head? If the Lord re-grew my hair, I determined, it would truly be His. I would shave a cross in it. I would grow it long enough to hide Bibles and then smuggle them into China. Whatever He asked. The hair would be His.
So I prayed. And prayed. But the hair didn’t grow. In fact it kept falling out. Spitefully I announced that the remaining hairs were all mine. Ritualistically I groomed and nourished the endangered ones. Ceremoniously I buried and grieved the deceased. I lashed out at God. "You number every hair on my head? Well that’s getting easier every day, isn’t it!"
I guess the hardest part of losing your hair is the fact that so many other men do not. I know that sounds petty. But I’m not just talking about a feeling of jealousy; it’s the sense of being cursed. My basic question was still unanswered: Why me?
In Leviticus the law writer covers the various conditions that make people unclean and therefore unfit for the presence of God. As he moves through the list of ailments, he comes across baldness. “As for the man whose hair has fallen from his head, he is bald, but he is clean” (Lev. 13:40).
I looked unfavorably on baldness, but the passage seemed to suggest that God was somewhat neutral on the topic. Baldness did not bother him. The verse didn’t shrink from acknowledging the condition. In fact it described it with unflinching candor–“he is bald.” But there was balance–“he is clean.” It was all there–an entire theology in one line. Baldness and cleanness, the fall and the redemption, curses and blessings: “He is bald, but he is clean.”
Perhaps one day I’ll understand the latter well enough to accept the former. Until then, I’ll be hanging upside down.
But recently I stepped out of the shower…and denial. One look in the mirror said it all. At just 29 years old, I was going bald. A moment of silence please. Thank you.
Seeking counsel about my disease (let’s call it what it is) has brought varied assessments. I went to a few sources all with the same question: Why me?
My doctor just shrugged and said, "Genetics."
My pastor lifted his hands heavenward and declared, "To reflect the glory of God."
My buddy yawned and mumbled, "Bummer, dude."
None of them seemed to grasp the magnitude of my predicament. I had to go deeper. So I cracked open my Bible with the urgency of a death row prisoner. Why me Lord? Without hair dangling in my eyes, I started to read Scripture with greater clarity.
The Bible’s most memorable mention of Alopecia (the medical name for baldness) comes in the book of 2 Kings. The bald head belongs to Elisha. I guess he got a double portion of everything, including forehead.
"Then he (Elisha) went up from there to Bethel; and as he was going up the road, some youths came from the city and mocked him, and said to him, 'Go up, you baldhead! Go up you baldhead!'" (Kings 2:23).
Well, it turns out that Elisha was sensitive about his marble top. He called down a curse on the scoffers. Two bears promptly emerged from the woods and gave the cocky kids more hair than they could handle. Now, I have to admit that this story used to trouble me. The act of judgment seemed harsh, even capricious. But now, in light of my affliction, totally justified. I learned a valuable lesson too. If I can’t stop my hair loss, I can always try cursing.
Next I came to Solomon. I know what you’re going to say. How do you know Solomon was bald? Well, I don’t. But after reading Ecclesiastes, I’m willing to bet 3 hairs he was at least receding. That kind of angst only comes from the ignominy of losing one’s hair.
Then there’s Paul. In every painting of Paul from antiquity, he’s sporting a receding hairline. Of course the artists never saw the apostle, but I think they had him pegged. Theologians argue endlessly about Paul’s "thorn in the flesh." Was it a problem with lust? Was it his poor eyesight? I solved the mystery. Paul was lamenting his baldness. "A messenger of Satan," he called it. I felt the same way.
I was also intrigued anew by the story of Samuel’s mother, Hannah. Like her, I languished under a scourge of barrenness. The locale was just different. She had a barren womb. I had a barren scalp. The inspiring thing about Hannah is that she decided to do something about her condition. Of course I explored the gamut of obligatory responses: applying strange ointments, hanging upside down, buying the cure de jour, cursing the day I was born. But I had yet to match the audacity of Hannah’s recourse–strike a deal with God. If you give me a son, Hannah prayed, "I will give him to the Lord" (1. Sam.11).
That’s it, I realized. I needed to make a deal with God. “Lord,” I pleaded. "If thou restoreth unto your bald servant the hair of mine head, it shall all be thine, from the frontal bone to the superior temporal line. Amen."
To beef up the deal I launched a time of mourning and repentance that would have made Jeremiah proud. I looked at old pictures of myself and wept. Who was that carefree young man I wondered, taking for granted the thick mane atop his head? If the Lord re-grew my hair, I determined, it would truly be His. I would shave a cross in it. I would grow it long enough to hide Bibles and then smuggle them into China. Whatever He asked. The hair would be His.
So I prayed. And prayed. But the hair didn’t grow. In fact it kept falling out. Spitefully I announced that the remaining hairs were all mine. Ritualistically I groomed and nourished the endangered ones. Ceremoniously I buried and grieved the deceased. I lashed out at God. "You number every hair on my head? Well that’s getting easier every day, isn’t it!"
I guess the hardest part of losing your hair is the fact that so many other men do not. I know that sounds petty. But I’m not just talking about a feeling of jealousy; it’s the sense of being cursed. My basic question was still unanswered: Why me?
In Leviticus the law writer covers the various conditions that make people unclean and therefore unfit for the presence of God. As he moves through the list of ailments, he comes across baldness. “As for the man whose hair has fallen from his head, he is bald, but he is clean” (Lev. 13:40).
I looked unfavorably on baldness, but the passage seemed to suggest that God was somewhat neutral on the topic. Baldness did not bother him. The verse didn’t shrink from acknowledging the condition. In fact it described it with unflinching candor–“he is bald.” But there was balance–“he is clean.” It was all there–an entire theology in one line. Baldness and cleanness, the fall and the redemption, curses and blessings: “He is bald, but he is clean.”
Perhaps one day I’ll understand the latter well enough to accept the former. Until then, I’ll be hanging upside down.
posted by Drew Dyck at 1:22 PM
4 Comments:
Drew, I know how you feel! It was about five years ago that I too noticed how bad my self-image was getting because of my thinning hair line. I realized that there wasn't much I could do to hold on to my hair, just one look at my father, my uncles and my grandfather gave me a look at my future hair style.
I made a decision that year, that if God didn't want me to have hair, then I would help the process along, so I got out the razors and shaved my head. That has been one of the best boost to my self-image in the last five years. I even found an online support group for men like myself called "Christian Chromedomes".
"God made a few perfect heads oand on the rest he put hair!" --Some Bald Dude
Being bald is good, you have an instant nickname "chromedome", have you ever heard of "wavyhair" or curlyhead. No, there is blond, black(not head), dk brn, orange, red head,and etc. You can now give people an instant tan or sunburn or even blindness, but we should not go so far as this is a Christian mag. Just think of all the money you will save on shampoo, hair gel, combs, brushes, yes even coloring. This is God's way of saying, "See I really do love you." Then there is the time saved in not combing and brushing your hair. No more standing in front of the mirror for hours trying to get that last lock to stay in place. Well, OK, for five minutes or less, but still that is time spent in front of the mirror. Now that five minutes in the Word will be much more meaningful and your prayer life will not need to dwell on what God has given or taken, but you can then pray for your pastor and his seemingly lack of direction in his sermons or maybe his direction is directed at you. Just get one of those temporary tattoos that says I love you and everybody will look at you with a new light, or not.
Thanks, Drew... I needed that holy laugher at the end of a long work-day!
[I have thankfully hit 40 without completely 'losing it'. However, I have 'seen the future' at family reunions, and it ain't got hair.]
Good luck on keeping up the content here... you have subscribers sitting by their newsreaders in anticipation. God Bless! -Danny
The mentor of our high school ham radio club used the same solution as Jonathan -- he shaved the remainder of his hair. We used to tease poor Mr. McDaniel by pretending to buff our heads. When he wasn't around, we "affectionately" called him Chromedome.
Now, it's all come back, one might say, upon my head. Not a full baldness, but even worse, glaring, contrasting patches of scalp showing through my now graying hair. The ghost of Elisha's bear has returned to weak vengence.
Not only the bear, but the cubs, as well. My teen daughter, possessed by the unclean cub-spirits, teases me mercilessly, even assaulting my bald spot with "boops."
Providentially, the development has played to my miserly side. I bought clippers and cut my remaining hair to an even, half-inch length, thereby saving a bundle!
And I'll admit, having one more place to get kisses isn't too bad.
Post a Comment
Links to this post:
Create a Link
<< Home