Dear Young Women of God,
Let me tell you a story of sorts.
Fashionable. Attractive. Personality. Modest. Comfortable. Cute. Maybe these words describe some imaginary, "perfect" outfit. For me those words have often meant war. In the past, I struggled to find which facets of my identity to dress. On top of that, I was taller than average with big hips. In my mind, I looked like a Frankenstein assortment of body parts. On top of that, I wanted to know, even if I was not interested in "pulling" guys, that guys would in fact find some interest in me. On top of that, I wanted to appear at least somewhat on scale with the trends other cute girls wore--trends they wore seemingly without a care in the world. On top of that, I wanted to be comfortable! I played sports! And I didn't want anyone to think I really cared about any of this stuff at all. The battle of who could care less is often a popular competition. On top of all of that, my school, my God, and my family also required a little something called modesty. Really? I had so much to worry about. These were no small worries. The battle for defining my identity was not easily won. I settled for a T-shirt and jeans more often than not. Nothing really wrong with that. But the fact is, I didn't want to fight the battle. I gave up caring. I wanted to be able to say "I couldn't care less" and actually mean it. So I intentionally stopped caring. And like a plant that gets no love from sun or water, I shriveled. My lack of care turned to hate. I hated everything that made me frustrated with myself. Shopping was just painful. Often I knew what I wanted to look like and how I wanted to present myself, but the challenges of ever making that happen were mounted in the back of my mind, without my realizing exactly what was going on. Something like modesty was not even a thought anymore. How could I think of presenting myself modestly, which requires a respect for the person God made me to be, if I could not care about the person He made me to be?
Years later, God continues to work on me in new and surprising ways. But the real miracle He revealed to me was that I am in fact His work of art. Imperfect? Yes. But His! And my worst imperfections only serve to bring Him glory.
Oh how easy it is to hear that statement and miss its power. My IMPERFECTIONS serve to bring HIM glory.
Many times when we go to pick an outfit, we ask "Does this make me look pretty?" or "Does this make me look fat?" or "Does this make me look attractive?" We try to find out if our outfits are telling the story we want the world to know about us. Wait. The story we want the world to know about us? Here's the problem. In all my hurt and fear and frustration, I couldn't look up to the heavens and see God through the clouds of my own self-hate. The story the world should know about us is that we are saved and redeemed! The story the world should know about us is that once we were lost and now we are found. The story I should be telling with my clothes is that God is God is God and I am His child. Wow. Well what would an outfit like that look like?
Start with the personality He gave you--creative or thoughtful or fun or quiet or loud. Maybe all of these characteristics at different times. And then look to the actual physical body He gave you as well. Appreciate it. Appreciate it! Be grateful for every curve and straight line and wrinkle and freckle. See yourself as His creation. Be cautious of how you adorn your curves, so that you aren't bringing glory to yourself. Rather glorify Him in the juxtaposition of strength and softness with each curve. Maybe you're not curvy at all. Maybe you've been given that dubious body title boy shape, a term that is complete non-sense to me. But, see the beauty of each lean line and humble contour. Dress wisely, again, glorifying God for so seamlessly combining grace and structure in one form. Then through all the steps come back to that big notion of modesty. If you've already seriously gone through the steps of seeking your personality in Him and also appreciating the body He gave you to dwell in, then modesty will be in its perfect place. But consider it further all the same. Is anything you are wearing going to make your brother stumble? Are you starving yourself, whether hurting your person-hood literally or figuratively, to adorn yourself in something that is not true to God's calling over you? Are you fulfilling the standards in place for you?
G.K. Chesterton said that his favorite part of every painting was its frame. What does that mean? He was appreciating a remarkable facet of all true art. A work of art, when still a blank canvas, has the potential to express all the beauty of all the world and every world. It can tell the glories of an infinite number of possibilities, and yet it ends right at the edge. All the potential power and beauty of creation is contained with just a handful of precious limits. These limits cause the artist to create more miraculously than compared to a piece without limits. These artists are made more creative by their limits. Young women, please see modesty as a tool of strength not weakness. Modesty isn't easy. If it were, we could all wear the styles of the most fashionable nuns and not think anything of it. But we are all called to very different portrayals of God when we dress. Don't give up. Don't stop caring, and please don't pretend you do not care. Care about the story your clothes are telling. Make sure that it's God's story. Live intentionally. And remember unquestionably, you are beautifully and wonderfully made.
Your sister in Christ,
Kala Ellis
