Haircuts and Holiness -- How Patient Endurance Makes Them Possible

I remember the first time I saw my mother-in-law giving my soon-to-be husband a haircut. 

“I didn’t know you were a beautician,” I said, surprised to see her wielding her scissors like a pro. 

“I’m not, but I’ve learned a few things over the years.” She then demonstrated how to give a haircut. “When y’all get married,” she said, “you can cut David’s hair.” 

Whaaaaaat? 

In my family, haircuts were off-limits to amateurs. Only someone with a certificate and a special chair touched our heads. And if they didn’t have a jar of assorted combs soaking in green liquid on their counter top, uh uh, ain’t no way they were lifting a pair of scissors to our locks. 

That’s why I knew David’s mother was joking—until our bridal shower. 

After opening a dozen boxes containing cookware, Corning Wear, and underwear (yeah, someone got confused and thought it was a lingerie shower), I peeled the paper off a small, flat package. The box inside said, Professional Hair Cutting Set.   

“Now you won’t have to borrow my tools,” my almost-mother-in-law said with a smile. 

Oh my, I thought. She honestly thinks I’m going to give David a haircut. 

I carried the gifts home and tucked the hair cutting kit in the bottom of a box. There it lay, forgotten, until about a month after our wedding. 

“Lori,” my new husband said, “my hair’s getting a little shaggy. Would you give me a haircut?” 

“Are you serious?” I practically screeched. “The only hair I’ve ever cut was my Barbie’s, and that didn’t turn out so well. I can’t cut your hair. People go to school for years to learn how. What if I make a mistake? There’s no gluing it back on, you know. Remember that school picture from kindergarten when your sister took a pair of scissors to your bangs? Do you really want to go back there?” 

But there was no convincing him. His mom always cut his hair, and when I signed the marriage certificate, she passed the mantle to me. The thought of going to a stranger for a haircut was foreign and distasteful. 

“Think about how much money we’ll save,” he reasoned. “I trust you. You can do this.” 

And so I did. 

Keep in mind that these were the days before YouTube. My best hope was to check out a book from the library, study the instructions, and give it my best shot. 

Some haircuts came out fairly decent. Others not so much. 

I had the hardest time figuring out how to keep David’s hair from falling straight down like Mo on the Three Stooges. Several times, as I cut along the neckline and around the ears, I cut a little high, leaving him with whitewalls of scalp that hadn’t seen the sunshine in years. Other times I failed to compensate for the cowlick at his crown, giving him a haircut that would have made Alfalfa proud. 

Through it all, my husband was patient, gracious, and encouraging. “You’ll figure it out. You’re doing a great job.” 

Thankfully, most of my mistakes were in the back, where he couldn’t see them. But I could. 

Every time I looked at one of those botched haircuts, I cringed. I had made the mistake, but he was wearing it. 

It occurred to me recently that sometimes, in marriage, we wear each other’s shame in other ways. 

A husband’s poor social skills embarrass his wife at a work event. A wife’s tinder-box temper erupts at the neighborhood pool, causing her husband to squirm as heads turn. A person’s impatience, coarse language, or ignorance reflect on their spouses too, because, for better or for worse, they are a couple.  

After almost 35 years of marriage, I like to think of myself as mature, self-controlled, and patient. But one afternoon, like the choppy haircuts of our early years, my husband had to wear the results of my less-than stellar behavior. 

It had been a long day. A thunderstorm had awakened us at 4:30 in the morning, disturbing our sleep and leaving us without electricity. We’d stuck it out in the house until the heat became unbearable, then we sought refuge at our daughter’s home. 

Grateful we’d made plans to eat out with friends for dinner, we were finishing up our meal when a text from a neighbor lit up my phone. Hooray! The power’s back on. 

After being a vagabond for most of the day, I was ready to go home. But my husband had one more story to tell. I patted him on the leg, our signal for I’m ready to go. He finished the story, then launched into another one. I nudged him with my elbow. He still didn’t get the message, so I nudged him again. Less gently this time. 

My impatient rudeness was obvious by that point, and my husband experienced the shame of it in front of our friends. Because everyone knows pastors and their wives never fight, right? At least not in public. 

My prideful self tried to justify my actions by mentally listing the things my husband has done that have embarrassed me, but the Holy Spirit wouldn’t let me rest. I apologized, remorseful about how I’d treated him and ashamed that others had witnessed my poor behavior. 

Later, the Holy Spirit consoled me with the truth—we’re all works in progress. 

In progress. 

If we’re believers, the Spirit of God lives in us, gradually conforming us to Christ’s image. But the work takes time. Our path to holiness climbs upward, but isn’t immune to detours and backslides. When those around us behave in less than stellar ways, and we respond with grace, we take a giant step along our own path of Christ-likeness. 

First Corinthians 13:7 reminds us love “bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things.” 

While there are limits to bearing and enduring—no one should remain in a dangerous, abusive relationship, most of us come nowhere near this scenario. The worst we experience are small annoyances that fall short of perfection or cause us embarrassment. 

I’m so grateful for Christ, who’s the epitome of patience and kindness. His example challenges me not only to be patient with myself when I act in less-than-godly ways, but to be grateful for my husband, who faithfully bears with me through my spiritual growing pains. 

Someday, I pray, he’ll wear my behavior (like my haircuts) with pride, knowing that his longsuffering commitment to my growth in holiness helped make it possible. 

Now it's your turn. Who has God used in your life to encourage you in the paths of holiness? Leave a comment below and share your story. If you're reading by email, CLICK HERE to visit Hungry for God online and leave a comment. 

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