Dressing The Part

Clothing ourselves in Christ is not about personal piety or political posture. It’s about how we relate to one another.

I recently learned about a church tradition where, on the Sunday after Christmas, people bring their favorite gift from home to be blessed.

Now, I will be honest with you. I have mixed feelings about something as wild as that.
 
On the one hand, it’s kind of a beautiful way to show gratitude to God for the material gifts we receive. Yet, on the other, it feels dangerously close to baptizing our love affair with stuff.

​I mean do all the things we unwrapped on Christmas really need a blessing? A gift receipt, maybe. But a blessing? I’m not so sure.

I can’t say with any certainty where God stands on blessing material things. I like to think God is happy to consecrate our new toys and clothes knowing such gifts can bring people joy.

​And communities together. But scripture always nudges us toward something deeper—something less about what we unwrap, and more about what we put on.
 
That’s where Paul comes in. Writing to a small, scrappy church in Colossi, Paul offers a vision of what it looks like to live as people shaped—clothed, even—by Christ.

Therefore, as God’s chosen ones, holy and beloved, clothe yourselves with compassion, kindness, humility, meekness, and patience. Bear with one another and, if anyone has a complaint against another, forgive each other; just as the Lord has forgiven you, so you also must forgive. Above all, clothe yourselves with love, which binds everything together in perfect harmony. And let the peace of Christ rule in your hearts, to which indeed you were called in one body. And be thankful. Let the word of Christ dwell in you richly; teach and admonish one another in all wisdom; and with gratitude in your hearts sing psalms, hymns, and spiritual songs to God. And whatever you do, in word or deed, do everything in the name of the Lord Jesus, giving thanks to God the Father through him.
                                                                                               - Colossians 3:12–17

Three days ago, we celebrated the birth of Jesus—a holy act that didn’t just mark a moment in history, but it inaugurated a whole new movement. A movement where God begins reshaping the very nature of what it means to be human. And with that new life, Paul says, comes a new wardrobe.
 
Now, as I was having coffee with my dad this morning, he kept saying he had to go get dressed for church. Apparently, they do things differently than Anamesa where pajamas are an acceptable part of the dress code. Still, this isn't the wardrobe that Paul’s writing about. He paints a vivid picture of what it looks like to live as someone who is fully clothed in Christ.
 
It’s not what we wear, but how we wear it out.
 
Like many of you, I unwrapped a few new clothing items this Christmas. New shirts. New styles. Including this cardigan. I love it. It’s a new fit for me, but I think I actually pull it off. Or so my wife tells me.

But if I wore it out to dinner, I doubt anyone would notice anything different about me. That’s the thing about material changes—they rarely leave a lasting impression.
 
Paul isn’t asking us to put on a new sweater or upgrade our look. He’s inviting us to make an inward change—to put on the heart of Christ and then wear it out into the world.

He uses clothing as a metaphor for a transformed life. One that sheds old habits and takes on a new way of being—marked not by vices, but by virtues.
 
Now, I have no idea what kind of clothes Jesus wore. Outside of being swaddled as a baby and having his tunic gambled over at his death, the gospels tend to focus on his inner life.

When I read Paul’s list—compassion, kindness, humility, gentleness, patience—it’s impossible not to see Jesus in each word. You won’t find this list of the things in fashion magazines. But you will see Jesus modeling each one in public.
 
We know the stories. Jesus hears the cries of the people—and he’s moved with compassion. He meets people right where they are. He heals the sick. Restores the broken. Casts out demons. Feeds the hungry. Gives sight to the blind. And as far-fetched as it sounds, he even raises the dead.

If we want to live into Christ—Jesus shows us the way. If we wear his heart —his compassion will be ours as well.

What I have learned, and wrote extensively in my book, Shit Jesus Says, once we really begin to know Jesus, and walk his Way, our old ways stop fitting.
 
I think that is the main point of salvation. If we’re going to follow Christ, we have to put on his tunic. Wear his sandals. Walk his walk. Paul urges the church to be intentional about this—to set our minds on the way of Christ rather than the way of the world.
 
Years ago, it was popular in Christian Evangelical circles to wear those colorful rubber bracelets stamped with—What Would Jesus Do? Given what’s happening these days within the church, it’s clear these bracelets have fallen out of fashion. But the truth behind them remains.
 
If we could actually do what Jesus did, then maybe children wouldn’t go hungry or be afraid to go to school. The health and well-being of the community might take priority over more tax cuts for the wealthy. Paul seems to agree.
 
It’s hard to look at this list and not shake your head at where we have strayed. I think we could all benefit from asking ourselves, Am I doing what Jesus has done for me?  This is true for individuals as well as the church as a whole.
 
Because Jesus has shown you compassion—be compassionate. Because Jesus has forgiven you—be generous with your forgiveness. Because Jesus has borne your burdens—help carry someone else’s.

Or to say it differently, if you want a more peaceful world—be peace. If you want healthier relationships—initiate harmony. If someone you know is struggling, don’t leave them stranded because God didn’t leave you stranded.
 
You might know of this common practice in Alaska where people pick up hitchhikers—no matter what because being stranded in that environment is often more dangerous than helping a stranger.

In a vast wilderness that is sparsely populated, you might be the only car that comes by in a day. People stop and help because they know on any given day, they too could need a ride.
 
Some people call that karma. In the church we call it Christlikeness. To take the blessing of God that is in you, to be a blessing for others.
 
In his 15th-century classic The Imitation of Christ, Thomas à Kempis argued true spiritual clothing is found in inner transformation, prioritizing God’s approval over worldly status.

I agree with this simply because I’ve been criticized for some of the things I have worn. Shirts mostly. From novelty t-shirts to my clerical wardrobe, my fashion choices always seem to offend someone somewhere.
 
But again, it’s not what we wear on the outside that matters. Or how righteous we wish to be seen. It’s our response to the criticism, which begins in the heart.
 
Jesus had no problem pointing out religious hypocrisy. Calling them white-washed tombs that appear beautiful on the outside but inside are filled with death and decay. He didn’t do it to be judgmental or mean.

​Jesus wants us all to be more mindful of our hearts, to look within ourselves as a way to change for the better. And so, he directs our attention inward before we look outward. Jesus knows that when our hearts are changed, everything else will follow.
 
Clothing ourselves in Christ is not about personal piety or political posture. It’s about how we relate to one another. These virtues—compassion, kindness, humility, gentleness, patience—are communal virtues. They shape life together. They are the strings God uses to weave us all together.
 
The church is called the Body of Christ for a reason. We are part of him. His heart becomes our heart. His hands become our hands. We may not always be the best dressed, but when we live in imitation of Christ—when we wear his love into the world—we become part of God’s blessing to others.
 
Here in Anamesa, we are called to be the visible presence of Christ’s love. To wear it as naturally as our own skin. Perhaps this is what it means for the word of Christ to dwell in us richly—to let love shape who we are, inside and out, so that harmony becomes possible.
 
Jesus calls us into the space between us and them and invites us to fill it with God’s glory. So, as Paul writes: “Whatever you do, in word or deed, do everything in the name of the Lord Jesus.” That’s not a burden. It’s an invitation. An invitation to take inventory of our lives and ask: Is my life a blessing to someone else?
 
If you don’t know the answer—when you’re unsure—just look to Jesus. Are you doing what he did for you?  Is God’s love becoming incarnate in you, given flesh and blood for the care of others? Just as God has blessed the world through him—God continues to bless the world through us.
 
So let’s go in his name with the peace of Christ adorning your heart. And be thankful. Because God’s love—one size fits all—still wears beautifully on anyone willing to put it on.