Dressed to the Sevens??

I like clothes.  Granted, I'm usually more fashion victim than fashion trendsetter (though it's not for lack of trying:  sequin saxophone sweater and silver mini skirt with matching granny boots).  I was the first kid, ahem, only kid, at my school with beautiful brown wooden clogs reminiscent of  the ones the little Dutch boy wore on the paint can.  (Please don't ask me questions I can't answer...I don't know why.)  They made a lovely, hollow clonking sound as I teetered down the sidewalk each day to lunch.  I'm pretty sure I was the first student to break out knee-high suede black boots that laced up the back.  I have no doubt I was the only third grader with my own subscription to Vogue magazine; okay, slight exaggeration, it was more like eighth grade but still, my short-haired, blond, permed, Sally Jesse red-framed glasses wearing, awkward, tall, clumsy, nerdy self longed to be fashionable.  If I looked like orphan Annie on a good day, the least I could hope for is cute clothing.  One of my big dreams in life is to be deemed just tragic enough for a visit from Clinton and Stacey of What Not to Wear fame.  Clearly, I need therapy......

Maybe two weeks in the same seven items of clothing is the therapy I need.  That's right, count em....seven and shoes count as one item.  I am entering the next stage of my 7 experiment.  Me, one pair of jeans, one skirt, shoes, and four shirts.  Try narrowing down your wardrobe to seven appropriate items during a January in Alabama, where currently it is 70 with tornadoes on the way and tomorrow will top out around 45.  Granted, I should have entered it two weeks ago, but I had not yet recovered from my food fast, and I had a dinner party to attend.  Well, I did and I didn't think sequin sweater and satin high heels were a good choice for two of my items.....so, already, off to a good start on this particular spiritual journey. 

I'm a bit apprehensive to see where God takes me on this journey.  I've had a clothing problem most of my life (reserve comment, friends) and not just one of poor choices (who didn't have a short curly home perm in the 80s?).  I really like the way shopping for a cute sweater makes me feel.  I enjoy a new pair of shoes and cute jeans.  I worked until midnight most Sundays at a clothing store for a discount on my children's clothing.  I live in the South, friends, where little girls wear eighty dollar smocked dresses on the playground.  So, yeah, this may be the toughest part of 7 for me, not because I'm so self-conscious that I can't imagine wearing the same items for 14 days; I'm actually enjoying the simplicity.  I get up grab my jeans and sweater off the floor for the fourth day in a row and voila, I'm dressed, but because I'm a bit anxious about what the Holy Spirit is going to reveal.  I think this section is going to be a real deep glimpse into why I am so insecure I look for my identity in clothes.

I'm a follower of Christ.  I know my identity is found in who I am in Him not who I am in Ann Taylor Loft jeans.  Of course, everyone needs clothing.  I think they arrest you for walking around naked, but what is motivating me to buy five cardigans and three pair of boots no matter how deep their discount was?  It certainly isn't material need; it must be something deeper.  The need for acceptance, to fit in, to say, "I'm here; I'm cute; Respect me; Esteem me."  The very things I already have because I'm a daughter of the King, the very worldly attitudes I'm told to reject because I'm a daughter of the King.

 I have justified every clothing purchase made in my 37 years, well, almost, the wooden clogs and silver granny boots aside, and let me tell you, when I found myself sorting socks on the floor of Gymboree at eleven on the Sabbath and not because we were desperate for money, away from my children for the entire day, so I could buy them cute clothes at a discount, I realized it was time for a reality check.  The Holy Spirit started to tug at my heart and discomforted me enough to know a shift in attitude was needed.  Then the journey to 7 began with a bible study on Nehemiah and something as seemingly innocuous as shopping revealed the need for repentance and a priority makeover.

As with so much of this recent Spirit-led quest, I've been asking myself repeatedly, "How does your life look any different from anyone who doesn't claim to follow Christ?"  How in the world-but-not-of-the-world am I living?  Let's just say my closet, while filled with lovely, appropriate, modest clothing doesn't reflect the values of one who truly believes that a woman's beauty is found from within.  It doesn't reflect someone who claims to care about the oppressed and justice for the poor, the widowed, the orphaned.  It very much reflects a self-absorbed narcissist.  Blunt, but real.  How often is my first thought when invited to an event, "But what will I wear?"  not "Who will I see?" or "Who can I bless?"   How many fitting rooms have I fled in tears because I couldn't find jeans that fit?  I want to be "clothed in strength and dignity" (Proverbs 31:25) and to "open my arms to the poor, extend my arms to the needy" (Proverbs 31:20).  There just aren't a lot of materially needy people perusing the racks at Loft or Crazy 8. 

As with every section of 7, I feel the Spirit speaking, gently but firmly.  I'm not trying to get all bound up in law vs. freedom here either, but I do feel the leading to reevaluate my priorities for my family and me.  While there's nothing wrong with owning cute clothing, there is something inherently amiss with the volume of most American closets, and I haven't even begun to scratch the surface of responsible consumerism.  How many sweet little ones are working their fingers to the bone for an unfair wage, so I can support my accessory habit?  These are the questions I feel Jesus leading me to ask.  So, I will pray, examine, prioritize, and evaluate my attitude toward clothing over the next two weeks.  A fast from self-absorption and mindless shopping,  All I ask is that you ignore the little Cheetos hand print on my jeans....I haven't had time to wash them yet.