Dear flock,
You wake up to a beautiful morning with a wonderfully nervous knot in your stomach.
You shower, shave, put on your favorite khakis and a comfortable pullover, grab your car keys, and head to the church. It is your wedding day.
You arrive a bit late. The groomsmen and minister are waiting, looking sharp in their suits. You take your place at the front of the church just as every head turns toward the sanctuary doors.
The music begins.
The doors open.
And there she is. Your beautiful bride all dressed in white, her hair perfectly arranged, veil flowing, every detail immaculately attended to.
She looks at you, and her mouth falls open.
“What in the world are you wearing?”
You smile awkwardly and say, “Babe, come on. You know me! You know I love you. I don’t need to get all dressed up to prove that. It’s what is in my heart that counts!”
Now, how do you suppose that would go?
I imagine she would have something to say about it.
“Nice try. Now go put on your tux.”
And she would be right. The guests would be aghast. Your mother would be mortified. Your father-in-law would reconsider the whole arrangement. And nobody would accuse the bride of legalism for expecting her groom to dress for the occasion.
But think about what would hurt her most. It would not be the khakis. It would be what those khakis said.
You knew how important this day was to me. You knew what it meant. You knew how much I loved you. And you couldn’t even be bothered to dress up for me?
Of course, your clothing can’t prove that you love her. But it can certainly raise questions about how seriously you regard her.
Now let me ask you something.
Is the church not the bride of Christ?
Does Scripture not repeatedly use the language of marriage to describe Christ and His people? Did Paul not write, “I have espoused you to one husband, that I may present you as a chaste virgin to Christ” (2 Corinthians 11:2)?
And does the great marriage of the Lamb not stand before us as we gather every Lord’s Day?
Revelation 19:7: “Let us be glad and rejoice, and give honour to him: for the marriage of the Lamb is come, and his wife hath made herself ready.”
She has made herself ready. That is something worth thinking about.
When did we decide that reverence was unnecessary?
We live in a strange generation.
We still understand the message of clothing. We know perfectly well that our clothing says something about us.
A young man puts on a suit for a job interview, because he wants to project seriousness and respectability.
We dress respectfully for funerals, even when the deceased will never see us. An invitation arrives for a formal dinner, and we immediately begin thinking, “What ever will I wear?!” Subconsciously, we understand that our appearance should reflect the importance of the occasion and people involved. The world understands this: “Dress for the job you want, not the job you have.”
The principle is transparent. We dress according to value.
We will change our clothes for people whose approval we desire.
A man can work all day in dirty clothing, but if he has an important appointment that night, he finds time to change. He may be exhausted with a hundred things to do. Still, he understands that the event deserves a certain courtesy.
When the Lord’s Day arrives, we are coming into the presence of the living God. The eternal King. The One before whom the angels cover their faces. And somehow, for a growing number of professing Christians, the question of how we dress has become almost offensive.
“Why should God care what I wear?”
That’s an interesting question.
Perhaps a better question would be, Why have we stopped caring?
God knows my heart, man. Some of you will remember the cultural revolution of the 1960s and 1970s.
Long hair, sandals, faded jeans, tie-dyed shirts, and flowers in the hair. A whole generation deliberately rejected the conventions of its parents. Clothing became a declaration of independence. The point was to show by your language and clothing that you don’t care about the expectations of “respectable society.”
Eventually the hippies grew older. Some of them became Christians, and began attending church.
And somewhere along the way, that argument found its way into the pews.
“God knows my heart, man.”
“You don’t have to wear a suit to worship God.”
“Look at all those hypocrites in their fancy clothes.”
“Jesus doesn’t care about my clothing. He cares about my heart.”
Is there truth in some of those statements? Certainly. God knows the heart.
But let’s analyze that a little.
“God knows my heart.”
Yes. He does.
That’s what should concern us.
He knows whether we have dressed thusly because we genuinely have nothing better, or because we can’t be bothered. He knows if our appearance is a subtle statement saying “nobody has the right to tell me how to dress.” You are correct.
And He knows something else, too.
He knows why we become so defensive whenever this subject is raised.
There’s a thought worth exploring.
If clothing really means nothing, why does the suggestion that we dress up evoke such a strong response?
Perhaps our clothes mean more to us than we are willing to admit.
There is something curious about our generation’s breathless love of casualness. We have become increasingly particular about what we wear while insisting that clothing doesn’t matter.
People spend astonishing amounts of money to achieve a certain look. There are expensive sneakers, ripped designer jeans, carefully curated shirts, and entire closets devoted to looking as though we gave zero thought to our appearance.
We want to appear relaxed, authentic, approachable…unconcerned with what others think. And that is precisely the point. The man who insists that his clothing means nothing may be using it to make a very different statement.
Why, then, should the Christian be embarrassed to let his clothing say something about his love for his God?
The Scriptures establish no universal uniform except modesty. But there is a profound difference between imposing a human dress code upon the conscience, and asking if our outward appearance reflects our inward thankfulness to the God of our salvation.
And it is that second question which troubles me.
Because we seem to have reached a place where almost any appeal to reverence is dismissed as some form of legalism.
How convenient.
We can avoid examining our motives simply by accusing others of being legalists.
Listen to Isaiah: “Awake, awake; put on thy strength, O Zion; put on thy beautiful garments, O Jerusalem, the holy city.”
Of course no tailor can stitch that. But if God considers the imagery of beautiful clothing suitable to express the dignity of His redeemed people, why should we think so little of our appearance when the church gathers to worship Him?
What would you wear if you knew the King would be there?
Suppose you received an invitation to meet the President of the United States, or the King of England invited you to a formal reception. Would you give any thought to what you would wear? Of course. You might need to buy or borrow something, but you would almost certainly make an effort. Why? Because the dignity of the moment would arrest your preparation.
Christ has promised to be present with His gathered church. Do we believe that? Because if we do, I wonder whether we should give a little more thought to the way we prepare to come before Him. I am not saying we are poorly dressed, but I am afraid we have become so familiar with the language of grace that we sometimes forget the astounding greatness of the One who gives it.
Grace has made us welcome.
And what an astonishing welcome it is!
“...put on thy beautiful garments, O Jerusalem, the holy city.” Isaiah 52:1
My dear congregation,
These words are written to a city in the dust. Jerusalem had been razed, her children enslaved, and still He calls her a queen, “arise, and sit down, O Jerusalem: loose thyself from the bands of thy neck, O captive daughter of Zion.”
The words “beautiful garments” hearken back to the tabernacle, where the Lord commanded Moses to make holy garments for Aaron “for glory and for beauty” (Exodus 28:2). When Isaiah bids Zion put on her beautiful garments, he calls the whole congregation to stand beautifully arrayed in worship.
When we come to the Lord’s Table, we acknowledge our own captivity, and the shame of the dust from which we were raised. When God shows us what we are in ourselves, we find our own righteousnesses to be as filthy rags (Isaiah 64:6), unfit to wear into His presence.
Yes, there is a robe woven by our great High Priest who kept the law in perfect obedience, and finished His work in the sufferings of Calvary. His robe of righteousness is worn by every sinner who receives Him by faith. Clothed by Him, the soul that mourned her ugliness now takes her seat among the beautiful.
The city Christ clothed is a holy city. Let the one who has never been stripped of his own righteousness, and who would come to this Table in rags, hear this warning. Flee to Christ! For no man may come to His Table clothed in his own righteousness. Let the one who has fled to Christ hear its comfort, because the Lord will wash His bride from the defilements that once covered her.
Dear trembling believer in the dust, why do you linger when Christ has clothed you? You can’t improve upon His righteousness blood. Come, then, wearing what grace has given you, and say with the prophet, “I will greatly rejoice in the LORD...for he hath clothed me with the garments of salvation, he hath covered me with the robe of righteousness, as a bridegroom decketh himself with ornaments, and as a bride adorneth herself with her jewels” (Isaiah 61:10).
Your friend and pastor,
J Lewis