Once again, on a Sunday, I find myself sorting through my possessions to make the decision on what I need to consign. Only this time it’s my clothes, not my shoes. Last week, I made a significant dent in my clothing but not enough. As more clothes got washed and I sorted through my winter items I started to make another “consign” pile.
I like to tell a story when I wear my clothes. I am not afraid to take risks with clothing. The consequence of my style of clothing is that sometimes I have “fashion don’ts”. Those times do not bother me, I just move on. As I sift through my clothing it is this particular type of clothing that I am getting rid of. Does “trendy” even mean anything to me anymore. Can I be trendy in Belize? Does it even matter? Does it? Why is it so hard to let that dress slip out of my hand and into the pile of clothing ready to be consigned? Why do I look so longingly at a skirt in the pile that I’ve only worn a handful of times? Frankly, it makes me frustrated that I care, but I do.
Do these clothes on the floor define me? Maybe at one time I thought they did. Maybe putting on that silk blouse and ruffled skirt made me feel important. Why? I have no idea, other than the fact that I like to shop and have nice things. Just like the shoes, I find myself feeling vulnerable, and then ashamed that a few pieces of cloth have the power to make me feel that way.
Please don’t get me wrong. I’m not saying that nice clothes and shoes are bad. God blessed many people in the bible with wealth and fine things, and continues to bless Christians today. What I’m talking about now, in this blog, is what is going on in me, at this very moment; it’s about what God is working on in my heart. If I get rid of every single piece of clothing that once defined me as an “individual” then, what’s left?
What’s left is still that lump of clay that God has been working on ever since my conception. “He is the potter, I am the clay.” Only I’m not a pot… yet. I think that God is still getting my clay soft and pliable. It’s getting there, but there are some stiff patches that He is trying to work out. As painful and tough as it sometimes seems, it’s also gentle. The Lord grants me grace never ending. I’m sure that what God is trying to teach me is that it’s ok if there is nothing left of me as long as I look more like Him. Then, I say “Mold me Lord.”
Please take the time today to praise the Lord for the increase in our support.