What to wear this season…

It’s asinine. Why on earth does it matter what I wear today? But for some reason, even though every single day, carefree, I  pull on my favorite jeans and the next fitted tee from the stack, this day I stared at my closet looking for something cute.

I even told Heidi to please match.

Why? Why this day? 

It’s not that something cute is bad. It’s that I’m not really into clothes, and could happily do the Jen Hatmaker deal and wear the save seven items for a month. What has me puzzled is, Why today does it matter? See, I don’t even sweat what to wear to speaking events. I ask God, something pops in my mind, and I put it on. It’s not a time-consuming endeavor.

So, I ask again, Why today? 

There are plenty of innocuous reasons. To be appropriate. To fit in. Because it’s fun to doll up a little bit every once in a while.

But that slightly weird feeling in my stomach tipped the hand of my heart, revealing more of the root.

That day I was going to a place I hadn’t for a while. A place I had mixed feelings for. A place I’d experienced hurt. A place that, no matter how much I tried to muster up neutrality, I always wound up coming home heavy.

So if I was headed to this place, I had better at least be armed with a good outfit, right?

And one more time I’ll say it: There’s nothing wrong with that.

We all want something to wear that looks and feels good.

But it served as such a picture for me. Because as I knelt in prayer and echoed David’s plea:

“Search me, O God, and know my heart! Try me and know my anxious thoughts! See if there be any grievous way in me, and lead me in the way everlasting!” (Psalm 139:23-24)

This came to mind: You’re wearing the wrong thing.

Not physically. The wool cardigan wasn’t the problem. Spiritually:

I was wearing my own works.

When faced with resurfaced insecurity, I had spiritually reached to the back of the closet and pulled out an old filthy garment I hadn’t worn in a while:

My own righteousness.

Spiritually speaking I had tucked my trophies under my arm, slipped my spiritual resume into my purse, wrapped myself in a robe of my own successes, and headed out into the painful place armed only with … self.

No wonder I came home so bummed.

See, it’s so subtle, and it’s all a matter of the heart. The truth is that any time (no matter what clothes we have on) we base our confidence on our own successes or our own abilities, we’re wrapping ourselves in filthy rags (Isaiah 64:6).

But when, instead, we abandon self, freely confess our own inabilities, weaknesses, and insecurities, and allow God to clothe us, then do you know what we get to wear?

The garments of salvation. The robe of righteousness.

And these are no rags:

“I will greatly rejoice in the LORD; my soul shall exult in my God, for He has clothed me with the garments of salvation; He has covered me with the robe of righteousness, as a bridegroom decks himself like a priest with a beautiful headdress, and as a bride adorns herself with jewels.” (Isaiah 61:10)

I read it that very morning. Coincidence?

Never.

So how do we put on His clothes?

By faith. With our face to the floor. Casting all our crutches at the cross and leaning on Him alone for our salvation, joy, worth, confidence, peace.

Nothing looks or feels better than that. 

{May you rest and revel in His garments of salvation this week. You’re beautiful in them, sister! Thanks for reading.}