Who are you wearing

It’s awards season.  The nominees have been announced.  They’ll get all fancied up.  For the event.  They’ll spend hours primping and priming and tucking and sleeking.  Hair is done.  Makeup is done.  Nails are done.  Nothing is left undone.  They must look their best.  The world will be watching.  Mostly from afar.

They’ve fasted.  They’ve dieted.  They’ve cleansed.  They’re as thin as they’re going to be.  For that night.

They’ve been offered the best of the best among the dresses.  The jewelry.  The shoes.  They must choose the attire they think will outshine everyone else.  For everyone else will be looking.  They will all be looking.  Hoping to win the best dressed award.  Which really isn’t an award.  It’s an opinion.  But opinions do matter.  Especially on this night.

I’ve watched the red carpet events for years.  Oh.  Not the actual awards shows.  But the shows as the gowns are being paraded down the red carpet.  The women pose.  First to the front with hand on hip.  Then flip out the leg if the slit is high enough.  And it is usually high enough.  Turn around to show off the back of the dress.  If the dress has a back.  Smile your brightest whitest smile.

They’re all waiting for the question.  The one question.  It’s a big question.  It’s asked at every event.  Supposedly made famous by Joan Rivers.  Who are you wearing?  That’s the question.  Oh.  It’s important.  It’s very important to give the designer’s name.  The name of the person who created the dress.  You see.  If someone rich and famous wears that designer’s clothes, then it’s assumed the rest of us will want to wear them.  Or knockoffs.  Whatever fits the budget.  Oh.  It’s a serious thing.  It’s a money maker.

But woe is the designer whose dress makes the worst dressed list.  As one show says.  One day you’re in.  The next day you’re out.  All because of other people’s opinions.

One particular event.  Every woman wore black.  They were making a statement.  They were taking names.  They were sharing a message.  With the color of their dress.  That event wasn’t so much about who they were wearing.  But it was about the color they were wearing.  Or weren’t wearing.  Fighting for a cause of their choice.  Daring others to join in or be called out.


And now, dear brothers and sisters, one final thing. Fix your thoughts on what is true, and honorable, and right, and pure, and lovely, and admirable. Think about things that are excellent and worthy of praise.  Philippians 4:8


The way I see it.  I have a choice every day.  Every single day.  Which designer will I wear?  There are two designers to choose from.  Some may think two isn’t much of a selection.  Frankly.  One is all we need.  But we have a choice.  There’s an obvious difference in their designs.  In their taste level.  In their purpose.  And the choice makes a huge difference.  In everything.  One designer is the master creator.  The other is the master deceiver.

The master creator clothes us with truth.  Honor.  Respect.  Purity.  Love.  Grace.  And the price for all this. You ask.  There is no cost.  For us.  He paid a great price.  He gave his only son so we could be clothed in forgiveness.

The deceiver.  He clothes his followers with arrogance.  Deceit.  Murder.  Evil.  Wickedness.  Conflict.  Lies.
Oh.  The deceiver had his chance to work with the master designer.  But he wanted the top position.  It didn’t end well for him.  So he’s trying to trick anyone and everyone to wear his designs.  But don’t be fooled.  His designs come at a great price.
Just so you know.  Everyone is watching.  They’re listening.  They’re looking to see which designer you’ve chosen.  Is it easy to tell at first glance?  Do others ask for the name of your designer, because they like what they see?  Or are your knockoffs easy to spot?
So I dare to ask.  Who are you wearing?

 

Respect

She doesn’t respect authority.  That’s all it comes down to.  She gets really mad if she doesn’t get her way.

She told me this.  She said I need to do as she does.  Here’s what you do.  She says.  She learned this lesson from someone years ago.  You just tell the one in authority what you’re going to do.  Don’t ask for their permission.  Just tell them and then just do it.  Sounds a little like a commercial, huh?  It’s the way she lives her life.  It’s the way she handles situations.  The thing is.  I call it disrespect.  How do you tell someone in authority over you what you’re going to do without asking permission?  How can someone get away with that?

I mean sure.  That’s what I’d like to do.  Just tell the authority figure what I’m going to do.  And then do it.  But I can’t.  Call me weak.  Call me a wimp.  But I have a thing about showing respect.  Even if I don’t want to.   It’s the right thing to do.

A friend reminded me of something very important.  This person doesn’t love Jesus.  So she doesn’t stop to think that her outlook on getting her own way is selfish.  It’s rude.  That’s how I described it.  Rude.  It made me madder the longer I thought about it.

She’s a grown woman.  A grandmother.  Why does she think she can always get her way?

The problem is.  She doesn’t realize that others say she’s difficult to work with.  She doesn’t have a good reputation.  She doesn’t know this.  She thinks she does a great job.  She wants a promotion.  Her boss doesn’t know how to deal with her.  He’s frustrated.  Doesn’t confront the issues that she causes.  Just pacifies her.  Just lets her do things her way.  She’s never been told that there are issues with her work ethic.

I really want to tell her what I think.  But then do I become just like her?  I don’t want that.  You see.  I like her.  I just don’t like what she stands for.  I still need to respect her.  I need to respect our differences.  Perhaps I should go boldly and gently there with her.  Talk to her.  Is it my place?  I’m not sure.


People who despise advice are asking for trouble; those who respect a command will succeed. Proverbs 13:13


I have to stop and consider the times I’m disrespectful.  How do I know I’m not just like her?  How can I make sure I’m not just like her?  I like to get my way.  I say unkind words.

I think of a time.  Not too long ago.  Words were said that offended me.  Words that sounded like a command when a command wasn’t necessary.  I said words back.  I couldn’t help myself.  That what I told myself.  But I knew I needed to stop my words.  I knew I needed to show respect to the authority figure.  Even though they weren’t being respectful to me.

I was offended recently.  Twice.  By the same person.  I was confused.  They had described me in words that I would never use to talk about myself.  That’s not how I see myself.  I don’t believe it, and I couldn’t understand why they were saying those words to me.  But it doesn’t matter why.  I wanted to say words back.  I wanted to tell that person what their weaknesses were.  But I couldn’t.  It wouldn’t be the right words to say.  I needed to respect them.  Not speak in anger.  It wasn’t my place to say those words.  It was really difficult to keep those words inside.  Because once words come out, they can never go away.  As much as we want them to.  They just can’t.

I know I need to pray for these people.  The ones who don’t show respect.  The ones who think they should get their way.  The ones who say unkind words to others.

I need to pray for myself.  I need to ask God to forgive me when I don’t show respect.  When I fight to get my way.  When I say unkind words.

The golden rule really is golden.  Treat others the way you want to be treated.