Threads & Grace

I currently own just two pairs of jeans.  Maybe that's absurd, I'm not sure.  It also says something about just how long I tend to wear pants without washing them.  Just this week, I managed to successfully rip new holes in both knees of one of those two precious pairs of denim.  Which means a trip to a thrift store is in order.

Ralphie and Randy will know better in just a few years.

Going out to buy clothes is one of my least favorite chores.  Consequently, it's one of Tara's favorites, which means the Lord is clearly working on our marriage.  To be fair, my in-laws have been keeping my wardrobe stocked since 2012, which proves my theory that being an adult can be boiled down to one thing: actually being excited to receive clothing for your birthday or Christmas, primarily because it means you don't have to spend that money yourself (or go out shopping yourself).

The imagery of being "clothed in" something is biblical terminology.  The passive voice in this often-repeated phrase is critical.  The first man and woman, for example, were clothed by God with the skins of a slain animal to cover their shame in nakedness (Gen 3.21).  The prodigal son in Luke 15 is clothed in a new robe by his father's servants.  Moses is commanded to clothe Aaron in the robes of a High Priest (Lev 8.7), and the believers are similarly called to a priestly role in God's kingdom, having received mercy and special anointing from Christ (1 Pet 2.9).  The book of Revelation repeats the imagery in multiple locations: the Bride of Christ is granted the right to dress in white (19.8); the martyrs are likewise given white robes as their consolation (6.11), and those who "conquer" are promised similar vestments (3.5).  Job speaks of God clothing him with skin and flesh (Job 10.11).  Jesus reminded the crowds that the Heavenly Father clothes the grass of the field, and likewise provides clothing and other necessities for His children (Matt 6.30).  Furthermore, in the Great Commission, Christ promised the disciples that they would be clothed with power that came from the Holy Spirit (Luke 24.49).  Isaiah, however, makes my favorite statement of them all: "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" (Isa 61.10).  This messianic statement is a direct contrast to the clothing of the self-righteous elsewhere in the book of Isaiah, which the prophet decries as "filthy rags" or "polluted garments" (64.6).

Each of these instances communicates the reality of man's absolute dependence upon the Lord's provision: we can't clothe ourselves -- literally OR figuratively -- so God must do it for us.  He is the great provider for all of our physical AND spiritual needs.  That means we aren't truly in control of providing for ourselves -- regardless of the fact that I'm the one physically buying the pants from Goodwill.  Likewise, I'm not the one securing my eternal destiny by my moralistic living.  In fact, living like it's my inherent goodness that gains me heaven is what Isaiah explicitly calls revolting to a Holy God.  It's not flippantly that Jesus reminds the Pharisees that "there is only one who is good," and that "one" is God alone (Matt 16.17).

I've heard the sardonic expression, "I'm not impatient.  I just don't like to wait."  I sometimes make a similar quip: "I don't struggle with anxiety.  I just don't like not being in control."  The convicting reality is that ripped knees in my jeans are never a point of anxiety for me -- well, that is, until I check the bank account and see that there's no wiggle room in the budget for a new (or slightly used) pair.  There's never any anxiety in my heart... that is, not until the car is breaking down and I know I'll have to swipe the credit card to cover the repairs until the next pay period.  I don't struggle with worry until suddenly I have to pick and choose which bills get paid in full for the month.

I'm sick of the trite "God never gives you anything you can't handle" philosophy that Christians regurgitate to one another, giving themselves a paltry substitute for real reassurance.  God gives us more than we can handle all the time, and the point is that He calls us to trust HIM, not in our wallets or our abilities.  I must learn to trust Him and Him alone, or I make an idol out of one misplaced sense of security or another.  That's the lesson on anxiety that Jesus gives in the Sermon on the Mount: our Heavenly Father not only cares for the realm of nature, He also cares for the specific needs of the saints.  It's therefore our responsibility to surrender our illusions of control, and trust instead in His goodness.

God clothes me when it comes to matters of immediate necessity.  But more importantly, He has clothed me in eternal security.  The Christian is "clothed" in the very righteousness of the Messiah, by the Messiah, which makes us eternally acceptable before God the Father.  So when our cups seem empty in this life, we still have the ability to see God's incredible blessing -- a gracious and incomparable provision that surpasses any immediate trial -- and see that our cups are actually full when viewed in an eternal context.

I might have holes in my jeans, but there are no holes in my righteousness.  I might need to buy a new pair of threads every now and again, but I never need to replace the holy vestments given to me by my Savior.

I think it's appropriate to conclude this post with the words of the classic Christian doxology, because He alone DOES provide, and He alone is worthy of my worship.

Praise God from whom all blessings flow

Praise Him, all creatures here below

Praise Him above, ye heavenly hosts

Praise Father, Son, and Holy Ghost

Amen