Editor’s Note:  This week faith writer Eva Marie Everson will begin a 12-week series on “High Maintenance Christianity,” an off-the-cuff look at time spent developing a high maintenance lifestyle vs. time spent developing a quality relationship with Christ. Feel free to use it in your personal study or in a Bible study group.


"Charm is deceitful and beauty is vain, but [the one] who fears the Lord...shall be praised." (Proverbs 31:30)


Apparently, I am a high maintenance babe.


I never thought of myself as high maintenance...until recently, that is. While my husband and I sat with a group of friends, someone mentioned a certain woman, marking her as "high maintenance," which was determined by the type of car she drove, the accessories she wore, and the labels neatly stitched on the inside of her clothes.


        "I'm glad I'm not high maintenance," I said.

        My husband's head whipped around. "Do what?" he asked.

        My mouth fell open in a bit of protest. "What do you mean?"

        "You aren't high maintenance?"

        "No!" I reiterated.

        "Then no one is," he said, shaking his head.


I kept my bottom lip in a pout until a few days later when the truth finally seeped in. I was taking a shower at the time. Overhead, the adjustable showerhead pelted out at just the right pressure and temperature. Beside me, on the window shelf and neatly lined up, were bottles of what my daughter refers to as "product:" name brand shampoo, conditioner, body scrub, face scrub, little brush for scrubbing, foot scrub, back scrubber, loofa sponge, shaving cream, razors, body wash (both scented and unscented).... You name it; it's there.


I raised my recently waxed brows.




I finished my shower, pulled back the double shower curtain (with matching accessories found throughout the room) and reached for a towel. A thick, thirsty one, color-coded to the room's décor. I propped a pedicured foot onto the tub's marble ledge and began to pat myself dry (ladies, never rub your skin!) beginning with my feet and legs and working my way upward. Done, I wrapped my hair in the towel, reached for a drier one to wrap myself in, and stepped out...