I got the idea for this blog post 3 or 4 days before Charlie was assassinated, and given all that’s happened, it feels especially urgent to bring it to fruition.
I was scrolling through Instagram reels and came across a video of a “baptism” at Burning Man that consisted of a woman having a bottle of water dumped onto her head.
My instinct was rejection and judgment. I was raised to believe that baptism was submersive, but even if you thought a sprinkle of water was sufficient, something about an emptied Aquafina just felt…wrong. It almost felt irreverent.
But I tried to temper my reaction and opened the comments, hoping for more insight and further explanation.
I saw plenty of people saying what I was thinking, but seeing it expressed, I was repulsed. I hated how eager they seemed to lecture and reprimand without an ounce of curiosity preceding their criticism.
Then I saw a comment clarifying that Burning Man takes place in the middle of a literal desert, with no showers, tubs or even running water available on sight, to the point that most attendees rely on baby wipes to wash themselves during the festival.
And I had a hard time believing God would prefer one of His children wait to come back to Him until they could find enough water for a proper ceremony. I had a hard time believing He was more concerned with the method than the motive.
Around the same time, I saw another Instagram reel of two Italians condemning a woman for trying to enter a historic cathedral in athleisure.
And on one hand, I get it. I was raised in a church where women were chastised for wearing dress pants to worship. We were expected to dress every Sunday like we were going to a wedding at a country club. They thought that we were supposed to give God our best, and that we couldn’t do that in jeans or t-shirts.
I don’t know if it has more to do with my upbringing or my personal inclinations towards presentation and the aesthetically pleasing, but even after joining a congregation with none of the traditions I grew up with, a part of me still feels like they were onto something.
Even though I know the Bible doesn’t say anything about the level of formality in what we wear to church, I still internally cringe when I see people in sweatpants and sneakers in a house of the Lord.
And while I can understand that many people are coming from a position of respect and reverence when they insist on strict criteria for the clothes we wear to church, I think we ultimately have to remember that our preferences aren’t what matter.
I can’t imagine a scenario where I show up on a Sunday looking like I came from the gym. I don’t even go to the airport like that. But I think about a person that could be jogging by, and for one reason or another, feel compelled to come in, maybe for the first time in years, maybe for the first time in their lives.
Can any Christian make an argument in good faith that God would want a passerby to ignore that urge because they’re in Lululemon?
Again, I get it.
I don’t think our relationship with Christ should be approached casually or haphazardly. But when we care more about the way something looks – whether it’s an outfit or an impromptu induction to His fellowship – than the heart behind it, we do exactly what the Bible warns us against.
“My brothers, show no partiality as you hold the faith in our Lord Jesus Christ, the Lord of glory. For if a man wearing a gold ring and fine clothing comes into your assembly, and a poor man in shabby clothing also comes in, and if you pay attention to the one who wears the fine clothing and say, ‘You sit here in a good place,’ while you say to the poor man, ‘You stand over there,’ or, ‘Sit down at my feet,’ have you not then made distinctions among yourselves and become judges with evil thoughts?” (James 2:1-4)
God deserves our best, and I don’t dispute that. But what looks best to our shallow, superficial minds and what is best to God are two different things. And when optics become more important to us than the opportunity to save a soul, we’ve lost sight of what actually matters.
“For the Lord sees not as man sees: man looks on the outward appearance, but the Lord looks on the heart.” (1 Samuel 16:7)
I’m not saying that Christians should abandon all standards, dilute the Gospel, or permit anything and everything under the guise of widening appeal. But if we find ourselves or our leaders more focused on rules God never made than bringing others to Him, it’s time to reevaluate.
Following Charlie Kirk’s assassination, churches across the country were crowded. People that had never stepped foot into a sanctuary were turning to God in droves.
Now is not the time to turn people away based on technicalities or loveless legalism. Righteous judgment has its place, but it’s all too easy to confuse sanctimony with sanctity.
The American people are crying out for revival, desperate for answers that only God can give and peace only found in its Prince.
This is a once in a lifetime invitation, and we can’t afford to waste it. May we open our doors and our hearts to everyone He’s calling home without hesitation.
what do you think?