One Night At Church (Part 1)
I was at church the other night and I noticed a few things that made me think. First was the fact that the worship leaders were all very nicely dressed.
Growing up I feel like I went to churches who promoted Sunday best clothes, even down to my shoes. I was once told to wear my shoes while leading worship. On stage wearing shoes is what is appropriate. I’m sure the person who told me knew more than me about our church. I was probably distracting or offending someone, so I put my shoes back on. But to be honest, I worship better with my shoes off. I tend to think more about my feet and how they hurt or how I can’t move as freely with them on. It might be opposite for others.
In that moment I looked at the worship leaders and didn’t understand how they could expect God to show up dressed like that.
In case you’re not understanding, let me elaborate.
The backup singer was a woman who had on a tight fitting dress (not at all inappropriate…actually it was very cute) and high heel shoes. The guys were wearing dress pants, a dress shirt, and cardigans (it seems like all the worship leaders down here are wearing cardigans these days????). This dress is what is appropriate for leadership, though, pastors seem to be jumping on the trend of wearing whatever (like jeans and a t-shirt) to preach in.
As the music blared, worshipers raised hands, closed eyes, cried out to God, and praised Him for who He is, I was wondering if the girl would be able to get down on her knees or fall prostrate if God’s presence were to fall on her. Ridiculous thought, I know, I should have been more holy and joined the crowd singing. But the thought was already there, so I went with it.
I thought about how I dressed for church, usually to please others or even myself (I like to look cute and have others compliment me). But what if…WHAT IF I were to dress expecting God to show up and knock me on my face because his presence is so strong that I can no longer bare to stand in His all-consuming presence? What if I disregarded the traditions I learned when I was little or (more relevant) What if I stopped caring about how I look?
That might mean coming to church in jeans and a t-shirt or it might mean I come in a dress but fall on my face on the dirty, gross floor not caring what I get on me…gum is really hard to get off the knees of your pants, by the way!
Why do I care what others think of me?
