Steve and I spent New Years Eve at our lake house. (It’s really a cabin on a pond but Steve hates when I say that.) The weather was decent so we spent the evening sitting by the fire sipping on wine. That’s when I noticed how awful I looked. Not because I was sick, well maybe a little because I was sick, but more so because of my choice of clothing.  I had on my son’s baseball jersey, Steve’s baggy grey sweatpants, and my black and white flip-flops with multicolored fluffy socks to keep my feet warm. Not a pretty sight. (You wouldn’t catch me at a meeting, grocery store or church wearing such a thing.) That’s when a conversation ensued in my head.


How many people have ever seen me wear such an outfit? Not many.

How many people have let me see them wearing such a get up? Not many.


I realized I dress like this (at the lake house with Steve) because I don’t have to put on airs, pretense, make good first impressions, look profession or ( _____  you fill in the blank.)

My awful outfit signified I could be vulnerable.

It said there’s safety and intimacy.

Unconditonality (I know it’s not a word but it communicates.)

Times like these are a rarity in our lives aren’t they? This must be how Adam and Eve felt – in the garden – prior to sin entering. Imagine. (No really take a minute to imagine.) Imagine always feeling this sense of “ah I’m okay just as I am” with the self, others and God. No wonder they called it Paradise.

I continued to talk to myself as I sipped on red wine.

Jackie, would you wear this if Jesus where sitting here with you right now? I mean after all you would be sitting with holiness. Would your first time – face to face with Jesus – be in these clothes or would you want to wear something more presentable?

It’s not a new question. The church has been discussing issues of clothing forever. Should the minister wear a robe or a suit? Is it disrespectful to wear shorts, jeans or flip-flops? Is it more reverent to wear fancy clothes on Sunday? That’s the type of discussion I was rolling around in my head.

The conversation continued … Yeah but Jesus would see right through my fancy clothes. He knows what lurks underneath. I don’t have to look presentable for him. Or make a good first impression. Or get him to accept, like or love me. We’re intimate. I can be vulnerable with him. He loves me unconditionally.

If Jesus were sitting with me by the fire on New Years Eve I would continue to sip on wine wearing my son’s baseball jersey and my husband’s baggy sweats with flip flops and fuzzy shocks.

The Spirit and the Bride say, “Come.” And let the one who hears say, “Come.” And let the one who is thirsty come let the one who desires take the water of life without price. (Revelation 22:17 ESV)