If I'm being honest with myself, I've always identified with the weirdos. I have never in my life been a cool kid. As much as I cried myself to sleep in my teens years wanting to be that, I wasn't. In a rebirth opportunity in college, I still wasn't.
I am different. I am weird. More weird than I'd like to be.
But at 37, I'm choosing to embrace that weird and be unapologetic for who I am.
I have shrunk back more times that I can count because I feel a need to be less than so others don't have to, but that total garbage,
It's okay to be weird.
It's totally okay to not be cute and petite, but to be the random accountant who wants an entire tattoo sleeve of the transformation God did in my heart. It's okay for my hair to be any one of 97 different colors even at the same time. And it's okay right now that I'm letting the color fade out because I can't pick any of the aforementioned colors.
In my heart, I know Jesus was a weirdo. He's part divinity and part humanity. Just him. Any of what I imagine a thousand times, Jesus could have changed the course of the people in his life, and yet he was selective. He picked the rare. He picked the special.
He loved the weirdos. He loves the rebel hearts.