Creekside Church Sermon of August 27, 2006 "The Proper Attire" Ephesians 6:10-20	Rev. David Bibbee
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The man returned to his car to see if he could find a tie or something like a tie. The closest thing he found was a set of jumper cables. He tied them around his neck and walked back into the restaurant. "How's this?" he asked the maitre d'. The maitre d' frowned and said, "I shouldn't… but I'll give you credit for your ingenuity. I will seat you, but I'll be watching you-don't start anything!"

The necktie has done a great disappearing act in the past decade, particularly in church. The normal attire of society in general is decidedly "casual." But there are still places where proper attire is required. My son's favorite Chicago restaurant, The Chicago Chop House, is one of those places. I usually take him on his birthday. The last time we went he wanted to bring a friend. "Sure, "I said, "but Dane has to be dressed appropriately."

When I picked them up, John stood at the door laughing. "Dane will be ready in a second." I couldn't see what was so funny-until he came downstairs. I couldn't believe it. Dane was wearing a navy blue pinstriped suit with a silk tie, but it wasn't his clothes that blew me away. It was his hair. It was long and had been twisted into fifteen "hair horns" about 8" long sticking straight out from his head. The styling feat required a large container of mousse and three bottles of Elmer's glue.

He looked like a cross between Medusa and Maggie Simpson. I marveled at the effort it took to create those horns that could put a person's eye out. But he looked like he jumped off the comic page. "We aren't going to get in the Chop House with you looking like that," I said. "Like what?" he asked.

We got into the car and he had to slouch. He couldn't sit up straight because his horns hit the ceiling. On the way to Chicago I said, "If they won't seat us, John and I will stay and you'll have to fend for yourself somewhere else." "Don't worry," he said, "They'll think its cool." "I'm sure they will," I said.

When we arrived, I made Dane go in first. There we two young women at the reservation stand. They looked at him, then at each other and broke out laughing. But before I could say, "What did I tell you?" they said, "That is soooo cool." Follow me to your table, please."

I thought she going to stick us in a dark corner where we couldn't be seen." Instead, we were seated in a prominent area. People walked by, studying Dane's hair, smiled and whispered something to each other. Our waiter didn't help matters. He didn't react at all to Dane's hair. "Would you like citrus in your water, sir." I gave the waiter openings to comment, saying things like, "I'll bet you've never seen hair quite like his in here before, have you?" He replied, "As a matter of fact, I have." So much for affirming my pronouncements.

The last straw came as we waited at the curb for the valet parking to return my car. Young people walked up to him and asked how he did it. Then a lady in her sixties stopped and studied Dane's do. "I think its cute!" she said to her friend, then asked to have her picture taken beside Dane. We no sooner got in the car and when Dane said, "Thanks for dinner, Pastor Bibbee. You taught me a valuable lesson about why I shouldn't wear my hair like this." I told him to shut up.

I've been thinking about our looks, and specifically about the wardrobe of "well-dressed" Christians. Is there "proper apparel" to make us stand out in a crowd and identify us as Jesus followers? Men, if we followed the custom of our Old Order Brethren relatives, we would wear broad-brimmed hats, beards minus the mustache, dark colored clothing and no ties. Sisters would wear "modest" dresses, preferably in solid colors, and prayer coverings. Our Brethren ancestors followed Jesus by being separate from the world. Their citizenship was in the colony of heaven and they expressed it by the manner of their living and the cut of their clothes.

Our lesson from Ephesians 6 is an exhortation on Christians attire. This letter tells the Christians of Ephesus to be steadfast and strong in the Lord. Easier said than done. Their church leaders were in jail and the church had a fight on its hands. The opposition was the rulers of the present darkness.

There was one way to dress for such a contest-with heavy armor like Prince Valliant's. Listen again to the text:

Therefore put on the whole armor of God, that you may be able to withstand in the evil day.

Stand therefore, having girded your loins with truth, and having put on the breastplate of righteousness, and having shod your feet with the equipment of the gospel of peace, take the shield of faith, with which you can quench all the flaming darts of the evil one.

And take the helmet of salvation, and the sword of the Spirit, which is the word of God.

If you decide to become a Christian and intend to remain one, you better know how to dress. The religious fashions that you see in restaurants after church on Sunday aren't battle clothes. Darts and daggers and flaming arrows are being shot at us. The powers we are up against are ideas-ideas like, "Peace only comes through military superiority," or "The only way to fight terrorism is with greater terror," or "The goal of life is prosperity and as big a cache of material things as you can stuff into your beautiful big house," and "We'll always have the poor with us. Let them learn to be responsible for a change."

We have all of this heavy armored attire to wear-truth, righteousness, peace, faith, and salvation and there is nothing that suggests the armor is to be worn to "attack" anyone. It is defensive apparel. It is for protection. In Romans 13 Paul draws all of this together and says we put on Christ.

The attire we are talking about isn't something with which we adorn our bodies. It is worn on the inside. I heard Garrison Keillor say, "Sleeping in the garage won't make you a car." There is more to be a Christian than "looking the part." Wearing Bill Pletcher's lab coat and having a stethoscope around my neck won't make me an oncologist. Dressing like a fireman doesn't qualify me to put out a house fire. The attire I'm talking about is internal. It is spiritual attire.

We sometimes get the impression that we are authentic Christians only when we have a total grasp of Christianity. Once you master the Bible and know all that it means; once you master prayer and can summons God in the time it takes to clear your throat; once you master all your doubts and stand on bedrock solid faith, you are finally a Christian. I don't know anyone like this.

My favorite verse of prayer is from Thomas Merton who prayed, "Lord, I believe that the desire to please you does in fact please you." We do not automatically believe every article of Christian doctrine. I do not understand why certain things are in the Bible, nor do I always like what I read. There is much about God that is mysterious and elusive. But by clothing my life in Jesus-by wanting to want him to govern my life-by wanting what He promises, it will come.

Long ago the church called this, "the baptism of desire." There are things about being a Christian you are unsure of, but it shouldn't be an obstacle. Make believe that you believe. Want what it promises. Keep praying even though you aren't sure that God has ever answered your prayers. Drag yourself to church even if you don't want to go. Make believe that the usher wearing the Hawaiian shirt-the one who shakes your hand and hands you a bulletin is a habitation of Jesus, which he is.

If you'll put up with me just a little more, let me tell you about an essential article of Christian attire. It is scarce these days when people can't talk to each other across the divide of politics, race, culture, and religion. It is scarce when people claim the absolute truth of their positions and arrogantly say, "If you don't agree with me, you're against me." "If you're not with the United States in the war on terror, you're against us." "If your belief doesn't match my belief, you are not a Christian." I'm talking about the need to put on humility.

I'm reading a book called, Blue Like Jazz. Its about a young man's search for relevant Christian faith in our post-modern world. The author, Don Miller, enrolled at an elite school in Oregon called Reed College. Christians at Reed were a tiny minority. Most of the students and faculty were hostile toward religion. Don and his handful of Christian friends wanted to give a positive, relevant witness to their faith, and decided to do in on a weekend festival called Ren Fayre. The school was shut down so the students could party. Security kept the authorities away while everybody got drunk and high.

They decided to put up a booth in the middle of campus with a sign on it saying, "CONFESS YOUR SINS." Don brought it up as a joke. A lot of sinning would be going on. But the others took it seriously. They dressed like monks and asked people to come inside. But there was a catch. They weren't going to ask for the student's confessions. They were going to confess to the students for all the terrible things Christians have done in the name of Jesus. They apologized for Christians who were judgmental and not loving. They apologized for neglecting the poor and lonely. They apologized for televangelists. They apologized for the ways they themselves misrepresented Jesus on campus.

Amazing conversations happened at the confession booth. They learned that many of the "sinning" students were searching. Many said they didn't want to become Christians, but they wanted to learn more about Jesus. Talking to a student named Jake, Don said, "If you want to know God, you can. If you call on Jesus, he'll be there." Jake's eyes began to water. He said, "I believe that you mean that. This is cool what you guys are doing. I'll tell my friends about this." Don replied, "I don't know whether to thank you for that or not. I have to sit here and confess all this crap." Jake looked seriously at Don and said, "It's worth it."

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