If you had to get a tattoo right now, what would it be and why?
Tattooing has endured for millennia as a practice of spiritual protection, medicinal rite, social status, or tribal belonging. Today, it persists as a permanent visual language of identity — a skin-deep memoir of who we are or what we cherish.
Matt Damon bears ink for each of his four daughters — milestones etched into flesh. A friend of mine had his forearm tattooed at fifty-five, a frozen portrait of youth as he stepped into retirement. And yet, tattoos are also the mark of juvenile rebels and prison cells.
Whether for commemoration, devotion, or camaraderie, tattoos remain humanity’s ancient impulse to make memory permanent — to wear one’s story on one’s sleeve, quite literally.
But for me, the practice carries a different weight. Scripture forbids it: “You shall not make any cuts on your body for the dead or tattoo yourselves: I am the LORD” (Leviticus 19:28). Moreover, I cannot separate tattoos from images of servitude, delinquency, or defiance.
My identity is not etched in ink, but sealed by the Holy Spirit (2 Corinthians 1:21–22). Not a colourful design on skin, but love and faithfulness written on the tablet of my heart (Proverbs 3:3).
Yet today, some believers bear tattoos or defend the practice. Is it rebellion? Ignorance? Self-seeking? Or has the Lord not yet given them a heart to understand, eyes to see, or ears to hear — as with Israel of old (Deuteronomy 29:4)?
May God open our eyes and unstop our ears (Matthew 13:15–16). And may the poem below turn our gaze from fleeting ink towards the eternal seal — not manmade, but heaven-given.
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✨Fate: Destiny or Redemption?✨
In Israel’s land or nations wide,
In black or white, or blue or dyed—
The world’s flags wave by lust’s decree,
Yet Christ laid down His life for thee.
Redemption rests on grace alone,
Through faith, from lust we turn and groan;
Sin yields to righteousness divine—
Put on the new, and walk the line.
Through desert wastes, though rough the road,
With mountain heights and heavy load—
Fear not the distance nor the steep,
For cloud and fire their watch will keep.
Manna and living waters flow,
To strengthen as we onward go;
A thousand miles with steady stride,
While years like fleeting rivers glide.
At last, the homeland comes in sight—
This longed-for day, this promised light;
Redeemed, we reach our eternal home,
No more to wander, no more to roam.
—✨
en yan hua fang 