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GREASY LEGS, THONGY STRINGY SHOES, NO DRAWS (aka DRAWERS) AND WORSHIP!

I saw the thread on Facebook before I watched the “Kev on Stage” video. Apparently Dr. Juanita Bynum has taken umbrage, and passionately so, to some current dress trends of church women, especially those who stand in front of the church to lead the congregation in worship.

As a worship leader, I guess I am in her line of fire  I quit stockings long ago. They were expensive and were only good for one wear before a run would inch its way up from a toe or wind its way down from the crotch (should I say crotch in this post?).

I will admit it gave me some pause when I first went stockingless;  what would people say? What would they think? What would bare legs say about me as a woman? Would it be safe for me to walk down the street bare-legged, less known, into the sanctuary? Would I be accosted by hungry deacons on the prowl who might mistake my bare legs for solicitation? Would my bare and greasy legs blind the people to the presence of God? Would God dwell in a temple supported by bare and greasy legs? I don’t do stringy shoes or go draw-less so would my bare and greasy legs be more than enough to mark me with the scarlet “T” for THOT? Also, I don’t do greasy legs well. My dry skin absorbs lotion and coconut oil like they’re addicted to the stuff, so is bare-legged and ashy a minor fault? Is it okay for me to stay on the worship team bare-legged and ashy?

Okay, so the above is a bit of facetious hyperbole, but the thread and the video resulted in this blog.

I can see both sides of the argument about modesty and the believing woman. I get the concerns on both sides  But, listen Linda, listen (you too Joe), the external is no true indication of what’s happening in a person’s heart (but you already knew that, right?). This legalism of judging people by their appearance has got to go. How many times have we missed the opportunity to truly minister to someone just because they didn’t look right, didn’t sound right, didn’t dress right? How many broken people have left the church still broken because they weren’t like us and thus unacceptable for us to reach out to them? How many former members are now bitter church expatriates because of the banging of loud and hateful gavels by self-appointed church judges?

And listen, “Cash me outside” with Dr. Bynum’s colorful expressions in her rant  “How ’bout dah?”  Was there no better way for her to express her despair over these  greasy bare-legged stringy shoe wearing draw-less worship leaders  who are, apparently between services, doing the deacons over in the corner?

Donna, you’re judging, now.

Yes, my point exactly.

You see, I am more concerned about the worship leader  who stands in front of the congregation every Sunday to lead worship but has yet to truly understand the heart of worship. I am concerned about the worship leader who stands in front of the congregation every Sunday but has not yet been convicted by grace. I am concerned about the worship leader who stands in the front of the congregation every Sunday and relies more on a beautiful voice, the always on-key riffs, than the Holy Spirit. I am more concerned about that worship leader who knows all the songs but is barely acquainted with the Master.

To worship God is to value Him highly  When we begin to declare that one’s worship is not for real because their appearance is not up to our self-constructed standard, then our value of worship is sorely misplaced.

Maybe it’s time we all got back to the heat of worship as delineated in John 4.

“They that worship Him must worship Him in stockings, closed toed shoes and draws (aka drawers).”

Oh, that’s not what it says?

“How bout dah?”

FAITH ON LOCK DOWN

I am a woman of faith

I believe in God the Father, God the Son, God the Holy Spirit

No apology here

If you have a dissenting view

No worries

We can talk, share our “Whys”

But I will not debate

About what I believe

Sunday

The preacher said

Expectations are the foundation for miracles

I sat there

And wondered

About my miracle request

My prayers for healing

Cartilage restored

Degeneration removed

In the moment

Asked God

To unlock the locks on my faith

Locks I may know nothing of

Apparently have no key

Faith waiting to be released

Open the locks, Lord, open the locks

I wonder

Are there strongholds in my faith

Strongholds orchestrated by others

Who sincerely believed

And so I believed

Until the locks forcefully clicked into place

And I now plead

Lord, if there are locks, please unlock the locks

And destroy any strongholds

So that my expectations become your miracles

My new prayer for healingimgres

 

 

 

WAITING FOR JOY

Weeping my endure for a night but joy comes in the morning.”

Sometimes the wait for anticipated joy seems interminable.

One night stretches into another night and that night merges into more darkness.

Most people just want to be happy.

Happiness depends on happenings.

Negative happenings, no happiness.

Happiness is too subjective, too dependent on the whims of the day.

Joy, on the other hand, is an inside job.

It is a decision, a choice

Difficult in difficult times?

Yes!

A determined decision!

Yes!

Choose to see the golden butterfly that flutters above the garbage can rather than the garbage that spills into the street.

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GRACE GRATITUDE

Grace: Unmerited favor

I am grateful for a grace that forgoes punishment in spite of my flawed humanity and inherent propensity for making risky decisions.

I am grateful for a grace that deems me acceptable, even when I find the unacceptable more delectable.

I am grateful for a grace that looks beyond the imperfect me.

Grace that is greater. . .

Grateful for grace.

MONDAY MUSINGS: Afterwords

She walked into the church on Easter Sunday morning dressed in a light blue “church” suit and a silver ornate hat on her head. I watched her from across the room and as she walked to her seat, I noted how she stood out against a backdrop of Sunday casual.

I grew up in the era when clothes had a category. There were work clothes, school clothes, play clothes, church clothes. On special occasions there were party clothes, Easter clothes, Christmas clothes.

Church clothes were aka Sunday Best and everyone, kids to adults, wore their Sunday Best every Sunday. Often, Sunday Best was the same outfit every Sunday, but it was always pristine, freshly cleaned and ironed.

I think about those days in light of the casual ambience of today. “Come as you are,” almost looks like “ready-roll.” For those of you not familiar with this term, it means an individual rolls out of bed and rolls out into the world just as they are, “ready-roll.”

Church wear is pretty much casual wear these days and I get it. Following Christ has nothing to do with the clothes one wears into the sanctuary. Fellowship with the saints is more about the blood of Christ than the red sole of a shoe.

But, my Sunday observation got me to thinking. Here are my thoughts, my “Afterwords:”

Back in those days when there were church clothes and work clothes, my grandparents and parents needed that distinction. The work week for them was tedious and back bending. More often than not, they had no authority, no power. They were subject to the whims of the system that defined how they could be, where they could be and who they should be. Those work clothes reminded them of just how powerless they were in a world that demanded so much of them as it did its best to drain them of value and self respect.

But, Oh, those church clothes! Those church clothes, that Sunday Best ensemble, welcomed them with open arms. Those clothes reminded them of sanctuary, that place where they could celebrate one another and rejoice in the presence of a God who loved them beyond their reality. Those church clothes strode proudly into a place that was 100% their own.

Those church clothes, plain and simple, were worn with a regal posture as the saints greeted one another before walking into a house whose doors were always open to them. Hats were crowns worn on heads held high in the presence of the King of Kings.

I never saw my grandfather in anything other than a blue suit jacket, a khaki shirt and khaki pants on Sundays. But, dressed in his Sunday best, he was the superintendent of the church, and in that place he was that intelligent, self-taught, learned man he always was.

His work clothes were farm laborer clothes, but his Sunday clothes spoke to who he really was from the inside out. His Sunday clothes kept him sane and insulated from the wretched demands of those work clothes. His Sunday Best was his best and in them he was always at his best!

No, clothes don’t seem to have categories anymore. But, for some of us, those yesterday clothes categories remind us of just how far we have come by faith!

I must remember this the next time I see someone dressed in their Sunday Best!

 

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Photograph from the book CROWNS.

TUESDAY THOUGHTS: In The Midst Of It All

I was raised in the Baptist Church in the South and gospel music was, and still is, very much a part of who I am.

I had a dream last night. There were no images, just a song and this thought:

God’s On Your Side!

I don’t know if anyone needs to hear this or even if anyone cares to hear this.

I may not even be in your wheelhouse!

Kanye-Shrug-822-1

Kanye Shrug!

I am just the messenger.

God’s On Your Side!!!!

TUESDAY THOUGHTS: Praying On Purpose

It was supposed to be just the one prayer

A single thought that demanded release

“I pray today

for the woman”

Just one thought

I thought

But each day

Thoughts

Kept returning

Morphed into prayers

Day after day after day after day

“I pray today

for the woman”

Unrelenting

Focused Concern

For a woman

Unknown

Unseen

By me

But apparently

Known

And

Seen

By God

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“I Pray Today. . .”