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Print You might think I’m a jerk. There’s been a lot of discussion on the site recently regarding the Pentecostal Goth in the South and the clothes she wears. I have to admit that, in my old-guy way, I can relate. I’m a man in my mid-thirties with a wonderful wife and three wonderful Spirit-filled kids and I like to wear clothes popularized by movies, such as my full flowing, scraping the ground trench coat (a la the last Matrix movie). I also own a very cool black mandarin gown. I don’t wear them to church or to church functions, but I do wear them. Then there’s the hair thing. I’d love to let my hair grow long again and my wife would love to cut her hair again. We’ve had some kindly debates with our pastor about these things, and to be honest, I see and understand the scriptural aspects of being modest and setting a good example to people around me. That doesn’t stop me from wanting to do different things. But, just to be obedient, I mostly wear boring clothes in blues and greens, instead of the interesting black that I’d prefer. And I keep my hair short and will continue to do so until businessmen and presidents are all running around with shoulder-length hair and it becomes socially acceptable. I’m resolved to live without the styles I prefer to exemplify my Christianity. Yes, I know we should be judged by our fruits, but no one’s going to look for good fruit from a Goth or from a longhaired guy. Sadly enough, the same goes for streak-haired, short-skirted, tight-clothes-wearing women. It’s pretty simple, sometimes I fail and I am a jerk, but because I know better, I personally choose to the best of my ability not to be a jerk. The same thing goes for how I choose to personify myself to the world. What do you think about all this, Gabby? The Jerk from Jersey
Dear Mr. Jersey, I never knew anyone who was as evil as Wilton Roberts. Our little town in the Midwest was mostly filled with nice people. We did have to deal with the wife-beating town drunk Bud Cooper and his terrible son Buddy when I was young. We also had to suffer two terms of oily Horace W. Carson as mayor. And, of course, we had annoying people, like my neighbors, the Brownleys. But there was no one to compare with the evil of Wilton Roberts. Mr. Roberts moved to our town when I was nine years-old. He was a church-attending, community-active salesman and everyone commented about how nice he always looked. His glossy black hair was combed until it was as smooth as silk, and none of us ever saw him wearing anything besides his nicely pressed black suit with a starched white shirt, black tie, and shiny black shoes. There was something odd about him though, and I always made sure I was on the other side of the room from him at church and community events. I didn’t know what it was, but, in my childish way, I didn’t like him. Our town was shocked when, a few months after Mr. Roberts arrived in town, my eight-year-old friend, Dorothy Morrison, disappeared. Her unclothed, abused body was found buried in a shallow grave out by Pendergras Creek a couple of days later, after a big rainstorm and the trash man noticed her clothes hidden in the bottom of Mr. Roberts’ trash can when he stopped by for his weekly trash pick-up. No one had any idea that Mr. Roberts was evil, or that he abused little girls. He looked perfect. And, even after he confessed to the crime (and many others in other small towns, too) some folks didn’t believe him. That incident changed the way I’ve viewed the world for the rest of my life. I learned that what’s on the inside is much more important than what is on the outside. That’s not to say that the outside doesn’t matter. It definitely does. God even says so in His word. But, sometimes the outside can look perfect, but the person is evil on the inside. What good does it do to present a perfect outside in that case? Mr. Roberts looked perfect, but there was rottenness inside him. I get very concerned about Christians who only look like a Christian because their pastor or their church will censure them if they don’t. We dress modestly because we love God and want to be as close to Him as we can—not because of a list of rules somewhere. Clothing color and style don’t matter, but modesty in heart, along with the clothes and the actions, are what pleases God. Mr. Jersey, I’m much more concerned with your attitude than your clothing. And I’d like to suggest, for the sake of your family, that you spend some quality time with God to find out what pleases Him. Clean hearts are much more difficult than a clean look. Sincerely Sincere, Gabby
ninetyandnine.com © 2004, ninetyandnine.com ---------- Gabrigail VanBurden has been offering advice for longer than most of you have been alive. Email your practical Apostolic life questions to Gabby@ninetyandnine.com and be prepared for some straight answers! |
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