I’ve grown up a Conservative Baptist. I attend a Conservative Baptist Church with a huge congregation (we have two services at the same time). I’d venture to say that a good percentage are over the age of fifty. This isn’t a crack at them by any means! They are wonderful, good-hearted loving people. But in respecting them, I’ve always been terrified to wear jeans to church. I was terrified of the single one in the crowd picking me out for not wearing my “Sunday Slacks” as I do every Sunday. But today, as I’ve been so busy and laundry has been put by the wayside, I wore my new Christmas sweater, a lovely shade of emerald green, and my newest pair of blue jeans. They’re casual, but not casual enough to have been ripped through and covered in holes. They’re business jeans, I guess you could say.
I should rewind to what caused my “Sunday Slacks” obsession. When I was a kid, my Mom and I went to a church near my grandparent’s home. This church, also Baptist, didn’t care about what was coming out of the mouth of the Pastor. Well, I should say “Those in the church didn’t care…” but the church is a reflection of the people in it. I’ll just use this to say my church (http://www.cbcfc.org/) is a reflection of its multitudes of Ministry work and charitable giving to our community and around the world. Our congregation is beautiful in the fact that if a need is presented, it is filled immediately, or soon thereafter. We are a “Ministry-Minded” church in every sense of the word. But back to the other church.
The congregation of the first church and went to, cared more about what you were wearing on Sunday than the fact that you showed up at all to praise God. So it was with this mentality that I set out into my Christian life. So, even though I have been graciously accepted into my church home and by my church family, I still have this fear of being judged by what I wore to church. So today, I found myself searching for my slacks only to realize, I forgot to put them in the washing machine! So, I resorted, to my last resort. I wore blue jeans. When I looked in the mirror, I realized, I didn’t look any different. My status as a Christian wasn’t wiped from my heart. I was just a 23-year-old in blue jeans that was going to Sunday School. I had no idea what I had been afraid of. I’m not a reflection of what I wear to church on Sunday, or any day of the week for that matter. The women of my former church were shallow, and definitely not mission minded. Something I had put off wearing in fear of showing disrespect for a person, or even my God didn’t show an ounce of it in the first place. I was there, head bowed in respect, praying for those that need it, those that didn’t, and giving thanks for the beauty of life.
So, I wore jeans to church today, and the world kept on turning.