Who Are You Wearing?
Colossians 3:12-17
With the end of the calendar year comes the torrent of releases from Hollywood for movies that the studios hope will garner Oscar attention. It’s as if the studios think that a movie released before Thanksgiving will last in the public consciousness about as long as leftover pumpkin pie. Attention spans being what they are, they’re probably right.
I don’t go to the movies much anymore. In fact, I didn’t see a single movie in a theater this year (or for the last five years), so I will likely skip the Oscar telecast when it comes around early next year. If you’ve ever seen the Oscars, you know that before the show begins, there’s a whole other show that occurs outside the theatre on the red carpet. Actors and actresses exit their limousines and pass through a phalanx of reporters shouting questions at them.
One question you always hear is, “Who are you wearing?” Not “What are you wearing?” but “Who are you wearing?” As in, which fashion designer designed your dress or, less likely, your tuxedo? Armani, Versace, Calvin Klein? That pretty much exhausts my knowledge of fashion designers. If someone were to ask who I’m wearing, I would answer, “I’m wearing that famous Italian designer Costco. He makes great sweatpants and flannel shirts.”
Who are you wearing? To those of us who aren’t dedicated followers of fashion (also the title of a terrific song by The Kinks), it sounds like a ridiculous question. Who cares? But in today’s reading from Colossians, the Apostle Paul adds a theological dimension to the question. He writes to the church in Colossae, “clothe yourselves with compassion, kindness, humility, meekness, and patience.” “Above all,” he writes, “clothe yourselves with love, which binds everything together in perfect harmony.”
Compassion, kindness, humility, love, etc…these are not abstract concepts that Paul is pulling from thin air.; they are characteristics of Jesus Christ. Really, what Paul is saying is clothe yourselves with Christ. Metaphorically speaking, put on Christ the way you would put on a garment.
I was joking a bit earlier. I do think fashion has its place, and I am not as fashion illiterate as I let on. All of my clergy shirts were actually tailored for me in South Korea. It was one of the last things I did before leaving Seoul, albeit at Sandy’s urging. (It’s also why I will not allow myself to gain a single pound. With tailored shirts, there’s not much room for expansion.) But in all seriousness, an outfit that’s well coordinated can transform a person’s identity. That’s one reason that TV shows about personal makeovers are always popular. The right clothes can turn any old slob into a heartthrob.
It’s not exactly the same, but putting on Christ transforms who we are, maybe not so much our outward appearance but more so our inner self. By “putting on Christ,” I don’t mean wearing a cross necklace, a clerical collar, or any other visible sign that identifies a person as a Christian. Those are purely external in nature. By contrast, to put on Christ is a matter of the heart, mind, and soul. That is, it is by definition a matter of the inner self, a transformation of our inner being into a more Christlike way of being.
This transformation, it must be said, is not an act of will; it’s an act of grace. We don’t put on Christ the way we put on our workout clothes and go to the gym or go for a run. I’ve been a casual runner for years. Lately, however, I’ve been training for a charity 5K race that I hope to run in early February with my brother. We ran it together two of the last three years. If I can just find someone to preach that day, because the race is on a Sunday at 10 AM in New Haven, Connecticut.
Anyway, to prepare for the race I’ve increased my mileage and varied my runs to incorporate long runs to build up my stamina, as well as shorter, faster interval runs to increase my pace. And I’ve acclimated myself to running in the cold by forcing myself to run as long as the temperature is at least 32 degrees. I track my progress with a running app on my smartwatch. All the effort has paid off. I’m running faster and farther.
But putting on Christ is not at all like this. We don’t will ourselves to be more patient, compassionate, loving, or kind. And thank God for that, because if it were up to us, we would fail spectacularly. Instead, we become more patient, compassionate, loving, and kind through the gift of God’s grace.
The grace of God is front and center in the first verse of today’s reading: “Therefore, as God’s chosen ones, holy and beloved, clothe yourselves with compassion, kindness, humility, meekness, and patience.” As God’s chosen ones. In other words, we do not choose God; God chooses us. This is the foundation of Presbyterian piety. Now, I grant you, “Presbyterian piety” may sound like an oxymoron. Historically, Presbyterians are famous for prizing cold, hard doctrine over the warm fuzzies of piety. Doctrine caters to the mind, while piety plays upon the emotions, and the emotions are not to be trusted!
I’m having fun with the caricature of Presbyterians as dour and joyless, the so-called frozen chosen. But the fact remains that, indeed, we are chosen—not just Presbyterians but every person who professes Christ as Savior and Lord. We are God’s chosen, holy and beloved—not by virtue of anything that we have done but solely by the fact that God has chosen us. God has set us apart, i.e., made us holy, so that we might be a light that directs those still in the dark to Jesus Christ.
How do we do that? Well, we put on Christ. We clothe ourselves with his compassion, kindness, humility, meekness, and patience. We clothe ourselves with the compassion of the one who stepped down from his heavenly throne to take on human flesh, so that he might rescue us from the grip of sin and death. We put on the humility and the meekness of the Son of God who was born in a stable amid straw and mud and manure, and wrapped in rags and then laid in a feeding trough for cattle.
We do this not only as individual Christians but as the church—the church of Jesus Christ, for we have been set apart to bear communal witness to him. On the one hand, that witness concerns how we engage with the world outside the church. The ESL class, the community giveaway, hosting Meals on Wheels, and of course, worshiping here every Sunday, are all ways that we as a church bear witness to Christ to the community outside the church.
But our communal witness is just as much about how we relate to one another within the church. As the church of Jesus Christ, we are called to be an alternative community. In the words of a popular theological book from 35 years ago, we are “resident aliens,” i.e., we are in the world but not of the world. We take up residence in the world, but our values are alien to it.
For example, while our society is becoming increasingly fragmented, especially along political lines, the church is called to unity in Christ—liberal and conservative, Protestant and Catholic, mainline and evangelical, immigrant and native-born. “Bear with one another,” Paul writes, “and if anyone has a complaint against another, forgive each other.”
I don’t mean to shatter your illusions about the church being an oasis from the conflicts and grievances of the world, but let’s note that Paul takes for granted that conflict, disagreement, and misunderstanding will be part of the life of the church. Lord knows, our attendance here at church each week is not a sign of our saintliness but rather our sinfulness. We come to church to hear a word of grace, a word of forgiveness, because we can and do cause one another grief and pain—sometimes unknowingly, sometimes willfully.
But as the church, i.e., as the community of Jesus Christ, by Jesus Christ, and for Jesus Christ, amid that grief and pain we are called to bear with one another. We don’t go our separate ways whenever there is conflict, whether it be about doctrine, politics, or the color of the new carpet in the sanctuary (in seminary, I heard of a church that split over that very issue).
We bear with one another because ours is a shared life, a life lived together in Christ. We bear with one another and we forgive each other. “Just as the Lord has forgiven you,” Paul writes, “so you also must forgive.”
Now, I know what that sounds like. It sounds like the law. “Did I hurt you? I’m sorry. There. Now you have to forgive me. It’s the law.” Here’s the thing. If we try to turn forgiveness into a law, then we’ve missed the point entirely. Paul’s whole argument is that compassion, kindness, humility, forbearance, etc., do not come naturally to us. They are not part of our natural self. They are given to us when we clothe ourselves with Christ. To the extent that we are compassionate, kind, humble, or forbearing, it is Christ at work in us.
Lord knows, our attendance here at church each week is not a sign of our saintliness but rather our sinfulness.
The fatal flaw of the law, as Paul knows better than anyone, is our inability to keep it. Paul is not saying, clothe yourselves with the law; he’s saying clothe yourselves with Christ. He’s not encouraging us to put on the law so that can be better at keeping it. He wants us to put on Christ. “Let the peace of Christ rule in your hearts,” he writes. “Let the word of Christ dwell in you richly.”
Note that our role is passive. We don’t share the workload with Christ. We don’t contribute anything to our own transformation. If you’ve ever made a New Year’s resolution and failed, you’ll know why this is good news. All we need to do is get out of the way and let Christ do the work of transforming us. Let his peace rule in your heart, defending you against anger, malice, abusive language, and all the dark forces that would rule over us like tyrants were it not for Christ.
Let his word dwell in you, so that it becomes second nature, his words becoming your words, his love poured out as your love.
“And whatever you do, in word or deed, do every thing in the name of the Lord Jesus, giving thanks to God the Father through him.” Does that sound like too much to ask? Not if you know who you’re wearing. When you are clothed with Christ, you are dressed for every occasion.