Underneath My Clothes (There's An Endless Lesson)

I'm sort of frustrated with myself at the moment, but only sort of. I was totally frustrated with myself just a few minutes ago, but then frustration with myself started getting replaced by amazement at grace, humility, thankfulness and resolve. Here's what happened:

I'm having an identity crisis because I've quit my job to move to Italy for three months and write a book. Normal people just do not do this, and although I have always (probably to a sinful degree) prided myself on not being normal, it's still a hard transition to make. If you like, you can read my other blog for more details, but it is not entirely necessary, and most of you who read this blog have probably already read that one, so moving on...

I thought I had learned the lesson of finding my identity in Christ already, and in some ways, I had. But it seems that God still has some work to do on me in that department, and for that, I'm thankful. I'm also amazed that this came as a surprise to me, and I love how He takes things a step at a time, teaching lessons in several different ways until we finally grasp the whole thing. That's good teaching right there – not trying to force the students to go too far before they're ready, but teaching them something that's just beyond their current ability so that it's challenging, but not overwhelming. And using a lot of different methods and activities to keep things interesting, engaging and intentional.

And that's why the Gospel is so great to me today: Even though it never changes, it never gets old or stale. It's always relevant to where I am, where I've been, and where I'll be tomorrow. It's always light years ahead of me, but it's courteous enough to walk beside me at my pace, a protective hand placed gently on the small of my back to guide me. It is never frustrated with the lessons I have not yet learned. It just comes up with another way to teach me, with a fun game, through reading, self-discovery or song, and when necessary, through rote memorization and drills – whatever I need at the time.

Right now, I'm realizing my identity in Christ as a byproduct of fear and really quick change. I'm not sure that necessarily falls into the "fun game" category, but I'll take it over a knuckle-rapping any day. I've had a solid grasp for some time now on the lesson that my self-worth is ascribed only by Jesus, but this is different. It's not about my value as a human being. It's about my role in eternity. Who am I, and what am I supposed to do? Not just as a profession, but relationally as well. How do I move from one step to the next on this spiritual journey?

It feels sort of like I've been wearing the same clothes for the past several years (I guess they get clean when I take a shower), and they've become so much a part of me that it's REALLY uncomfortable to take them off. And as amazingly beautiful as that new outfit hanging in the closet is, it feels different, a little itchy maybe, and stiff. And I'm not sure it's my style anyway. Can I really pull it off?

But Jesus is looking at me standing there all cold in my underwear, and He's holding up my old, comfy clothes, and like Clinton and Stacy (but not as flamboyantly or rudely), He's saying, "Seriously? This is old, dirty, torn and out-of-style. Why on EARTH would you still want to wear this when you have that incredible outfit hanging in your closet?? And furthermore, why do you even care what you put on when I've made you perfect just as you are?"

And I'm looking back and forth from the old outfit to Jesus to the new outfit, and I am torn between comfort and beauty. Now, here is where the metaphor starts to break down because I'm not talking about physical beauty at all. I'm talking about giving up what's easy and familiar for what's harder but better. And I'm talking about realizing that no matter what role I put on, I'm still the same underneath it.

And Jesus tells me exactly what my role is in John 6:29 when He says, “This is the work of God, that you believe in him whom he has sent.” And suddenly, I don't see clothes any more. I just see Jesus. And I let Him put on me whatever He wants, and I realize that I don't care if it's made of cashmere or burlap because the outfit is not me. I am not the outfit. But like I always used to tell my old roommate when she was uncertain of a bolder than usual outfit, "It doesn't really matter what it looks like as long as you work it." Which is exactly what I intend to do. Because in the words of George Michael, "Sometimes the clothes do not make the man....Freedom."