Ours is a t-shirt and flip-flops sort of church, so I can get away with wearing just about anything that falls into the “modest” category.
Plus, I’m a “musician” (said in hushed tones with hand covering mouth).
So, black it is.
And black it’s been for nearly three months:
- My favorite pair of skinny jeans. (I’m a worship leader, what do you expect?)
- My crazy sloping turtle-neck sweater.
- My knee-high fleather boots and my rings and my hat and my glasses.
Let me stop before you gentlemen get bored and click that little red x in the corner of this tab.
Here’s the thing: I’m kinda sad about my current relationship with God. I don’t like it. I miss the anticipation and excitement and wonder. I miss the want-to-read-my-Bible feeling. And the goosebumps. And the expectant prayer.
To show my sadness, to recognize my loss, I wear black to church.
Because I believe that even the clothes we wear can be a gesture of worship. We can dress up to say “You’re that important to me” or dress down to say “Here I am just as I am.” Both of these expressions through attire are powerful gestures of worship–because we are reaching out to God in symbolic and literal ways.
So I wear black to church.
I know this might sound a bit crazy to y’all now, but wait until you open your closet on Sunday. Your hand might reach for a tie, or for those jeans with holes in the knees. Oh I can’t wait to find out what happens! Y’all come back here and tell me, especially if you were a secret-black-wearer.