The Green Sweater

If there was ever a Sunday I didn’t feel like going to church, it was today. I stood in front of my closet, going over the endless possibilities of combinations. It wasn’t that there WEREN’T options, it was that every time I thought I’d made my mind up about what I wanted to wear, I could find something wrong with my appearance in it. The colour of this blouse made me look too pale, those pants showed that I had this roll, that shirt was too tight, that dress didn’t look good on me today. Before I knew it, I was staring at a significant amount of my wardrobe laying scattered on my bed and had tried on at least ten outfits. ‘All these clothes, “I thought, “And I don’t look good in anything”. The clothes certainly hadn’t changed since the last time I’d worn them, so what was wrong?

My body was, I decided. I was too pale. And I certainly have plenty of rolls. Endless rolls. If only one could donate fat like they do blood, I’d be your girl. Sign me up. My hair had certainly seen better days. No amount of taming was about to tame that bedhead or make it look remotely good. “Why couldn’t it just all be curly today?” And that complexion? Acne is embarrassing at any age. “I’ll just stay home” I decided. It was better than donning anything and pretending to be comfortable at church. I could spend the day at home in my pjs and pretend there was no issue at all. I could loathe my body from the comfort of my own home, instead of in a chair surrounded by people in their Sunday best.

“Wait a minute” I thought. That thought was not something that had to be from God. Had I not just spent the previous day encouraging and praying someone else through their bodily insecurities? “Satan” I said aloud, “You tried to get this foothold yesterday, and you lost. You don’t get to pick on ____ yesterday and then me. I belong to Jesus and you can screw right off. I’m putting on whatever I feel comfortable in, and I’m going to church”. After surveying the pile of clothes I’d pulled out, I was already pulling on clothes before I had time to even second guess what I might’ve looked like or what insecurities were now on display. I headed for the bathroom and dug out some eye liner, and instantly began lament my lack of skill and coordination to draw a black line on my upper lid. “If only I was skilled, perhaps some makeup could rectify this day”, I thought.

“Carmen” that still small voice prompted. “Come to me just as you are”.

And then I thought, “If God wants us to come just as we are, does any of that matter?” The clothes. The hair. The makeup. None of it mattered. I stared at the reflection of the fuzzy bedhead, the visible spots on my face, the black tee and green sweater, and the jeans for awhile, and all I could do was was marvel. God doesn’t care what I wear to church. Nor did He care if I had it all together today. He wanted me to come just as I was, and bring everything to Him with open hands. I turned and picked up my Bible, and all I could think was, “THIS is what it looks like putting on the Armour of God today. You are a daughter of the King and YOU, fuzzy headed-spotty-faced-black tee-green sweater-jeans-young woman are holding the Sword of Truth”.

While the Bible doesn’t give peppy messages on body image, there was one passage that stood out this morning to me:

Matthew 11: 28 (NIV)

Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened,

And I will give you rest.

“Come”. This is a verb, which means it’s an action. God is offering Himself to us, but we still need to GO.  It says ‘come’ with no other strings attached. There’s an invitation there to a party with God with no postscript asking us to bring something. It doesn’t say, “Come in your Sunday best” or “Come when your life is perfect and you think you have it all figured out” or “Come when you’re feeling ______(insert any emotion here)”.

“to me”. Our object of faith is not a church, a rule, or any person other than the One making the offer. Jesus. There’s no one else in this statement. This is a personal invitation from our God who is utterly and completely head over heels with you.

“All you who are weary and burdened”. The rest of this verse does not, and I repeat, DOES NOT only apply when you are feeling down in the dumps. In order to come to Jesus, we must admit that we are burdened with the weight of our own sin. This includes everyone. Everyone is burdened with the weight of their own sin. Only those who acknowledge they are lost can be saved, which means we need to ask for forgiveness of God. So we are ALL weary and burdened. Human existence in it’s entirety certainly makes one weary. We live in a sin cursed world, and there will always be trials. How I long for that heavenly home and to sit at the feet of the One who created everything.

“And I will give you rest”. Notice here that ‘rest’ here is a gift from God; it’s unearned and unmerited. The Greek ‘rest’ in this case, which is ‘anapauo‘, doesn’t mean to take a nap or a timeout, it means ‘of calm and patient expectation’. Oh how this verse changes when we know the meaning of a word! This is the rest of salvation that comes from realizing that Christ finished the work of redemption on the cross. It is the rest of conscience that follows the realization that the penalty of our sins has been paid once and in full. He has taken our burden and our weariness!

How good is God good at being God?

Holding my Bible in hand, I could feel my soul singing as I tuned my heart to Him, and not the insecurities that stared back in the mirror. I flipped to the Psalms.

Psalm 57 (NIV)

 

I went to church. No one looked twice at my bedhead, green sweater or jeans. And if God didn’t move further in the story when a friend of mine hugged me and said, “You look beautiful today”. I could’ve cried right then and there. God knew what words my heart needed to hear, because I chose to hand my hurting heart and insecurities to Him.

Oh how He loves on us when we come to Him just as we are;  messy, broken, hurting, confused, alone, scared.