You could say that I’m a fan of messages.
Voice messages, text messages, iPhone prompts, sticky notes.. You get the gist. I’m an enthusiast of them all. Type-A. List maker. Organization appreciator.
I am a girl who needs cues, to-do-lists and alerts. Without these things, I mosey away from things that beg to be remembered. I float out of pattern and get unfocused and preoccupied. Reminders save most of my days.
Thankfully, all this blonde-y blonde girl has to do to remember something is simply ask her phone to call her and remind her. (Major victory shout resonates. Twirling follows.)
The best part of this whole smart, clever technology-fabulousness is when I type my memo up, my phone ousts just that. It doesn’t change my memo to confuse or befuddle me. What I type in is what I am reminded of. What I put in, it puts back out.
Each morning, I am forced to stand before a closet, full of garments that I have chosen as my own at one point or another. There comes an instant when I have to choose. A point in time where, each day, a decision must be made. A critical, serious, fundamental decision. What am I going to wear?
Many a thought begins to cross my mind. Where am I going today? What is the climate like? Should I wear heels or flats? Boots or wedges? Tights, or no tights? Belt, or no belt? Scarf? Necklace?
I begin to work as a composer, comprising an ode to attire. I slip things on, fling them off. My flooring begins to look like the ground at the NY Stock Exchange, except I have traded paper scribbled with figures and facts for frocks, blouses and denim.
Finally, something works. But… is this a little too skimpy? A little too short? Can I bend over in it and not fear for mortification?
What does this ensemble say about myself? Does this tell the world that I am a daughter of the most High King? Does this short skirt announce that I am a girl redeemed by a perfect Father? Does this low-cut top honor the ransom Jesus paid for me on a cross?
1 Corinthians 6:19-20. Do you not know that your bodies are temples of the Holy Spirit, who is in you, whom you have received from God? You are not your own; you were bought at a price. Therefore, honor God with your bodies.
Will this amount of skin sidetrack my brother in Jesus? Will he look at me and have to brawl around with his thoughts? Will my v-neck shirt make him trip and fall into a big, muddy, battle against his flesh?
Whatever message we are shouting through our appearance WILL be echoed loud and clear. Our short dresses, tight jeans and bare chest, no matter how innocent, will eject a loud alert about who we are… and WILL have a weighty effect on the men who stride through life with us.
Our exterior will speak volumes… whether we wish for it to, or not. It will blast a memo that will prompt your brothers in Christ, in one way or the other. Will we encourage them to pursue holiness, godliness and purity, or lust, sexual thoughts and sinful patterns?
Sisters, as we stand before a closet of clothes, we have a bullhorn in our hands.
What message are we blasting?
1 Timothy 2:9. I also want the women to dress modestly, with decency and propriety, adorning themselves, not with elaborate hairstyles or gold or pearls or expensive clothes.