June 8, 2007
Sunday mornings are always a whirlwind at our house. While we prepare, of course, all that we can on Saturday evening before we finally go to sleep, it is no small job for us the next morning to “rally the troops” (a. k. a our four children) and get everyone out the door. Getting everyone dressed, giving them a quick bite to eat, and loading up our van full of paraphernalia needed for worship and Bible study may be our routine, but every week the race to get to church with everything and everyone intact gets our blood pumping.
Last Sunday was typical in most respects, including our two-year-old daughter’s very strict opinion of fashion and her tendency to want to decide her own wardrobe for herself. My wife and I thought that we had a turned a major corner when she chose to not wage war against us for trying to get her out of her Strawberry Shortcake nightgown into her Sunday dress. But she was apparently so excited about wearing her new white dress with a rainbow of butterflies on it that she decided to forgo her typical protests and even eagerly assisted her mother in changing her clothes. Once dressed, she shyly showed us how she looked in the new dress (a gift from a friend, by the way) and then ran off to show her brothers as well who all complimented her (in part, simply due to the fact that they were happy to have a morning in which there was far less stress on their eardrums).
We were all delighted when it seemed that things were going smoothly for a change. But then the other shoe dropped… or should I say “sandal”. My wife produced the sandals that matched the dress and displayed them for our daughter, who frowned and shook her head vigorously. She then ran off on her two little toddler legs, down the hall and into her bedroom where she disappeared from our view for a moment. We could hear her puttering about and then she reappeared, running back towards us, carrying in her pretty little hands her two brown sandals, creased and very worn from active playing.
“No, honey,” my wife gently said, taking the sandals from our daughter’s grasp and again holding out the white sandals with little white butterflies upon them. “These go with your dress, sweetie. Don’t you want to wear these?” No response. “Let’s wear these sandals just today, okay?” Our little angel’s face suddenly scrunched up in disbelief and then she loudly wailed, “No-o-o-o-o-o!” She raised her tiny hands to her face clutched at her cheeks as if utterly heartbroken and distraught (and I think she really felt that she was, too).
She calmed down after a moment, and allowed her mother to put the white sandals on her feet. Our daughter sighed and then moseyed off to another part of the house while we turned our attention back to getting ready and leaving in time for our church’s worship service. Just when we had gotten everything loaded, with the help of our three sons who also were ready and waiting in the van, my wife reached down and lifted up our last passenger into her arms, and sighed. When I looked to see what the matter was, she just nodded at our daughter’s feet. Instead of the little white sandals with the little butterflies, she was shod again in the plain brown leather sandals.
“Um… she’s got her old sandals on again,” I cleverly observed (nothing escapes me on Sunday mornings).
My wife chuckled. “Yeah, I noticed,” she replied.
“So what do you want to do about it?” I asked. “Make her change them or let her wear the brown ones?”
“Well, we’ll compromise for now,” she answered. “She won’t wear any sandals until we get there. But then I’ll put her white ones on her.” My wife carefully coaxed the old brown sandals off the little girl’s feet again, with immediate violent repercussions. “No-o-o-o-o!” our daughter cried, sounding for all the world like she’d lost her best friends. My wife irresistibly drew her away from the sandals, out the door, and into the van where I joined them shortly thereafter. As we drove away, and the shrieking of our two-year-old Calamity Jane tapered off a bit, I began to wax philosophically and shared with my sons (who may or may not have heard a single thing that I said), that even though we were on our way to worship with our church family, we wanted to be very, very sure that we were “dressed” for worship. “It’s great to dress in nicer clothes when we go to church, and it’s neat that we don’t treat worship as a trivial thing by trying to have a nice appearance. But a whole lot more important than dressing in our nice clothes, is being sure that our hearts are ready, too.” And so we all prayed together, while we drove along, that God would help us to be “dressed in our hearts” for entering worship.
“Who may ascend the hill of the LORD? Who may stand in His holy place? He who has clean hands and a pure heart, who does not lift up his soul to an idol or swear by what is false” (Psalm 25:3-4 NIV).
This means that we must never treat lightly the idea of entering a concentrated time of worship or even a time of prayer in our own private prayer closets. If we truly want an “audience” with God as we sing our praises or offer Him our supplications, we must understand that our “hearts must be dressed”. As it says in Psalm 25:3-4, the one who can come close to God is a man or woman of character who does what is right, with the right motives, in order to please the one, true God. God does not give audience to pretenders, but He does grant it to those who truly and humbly seek His face through the forgiveness offered them through Jesus Christ.
Sometimes though, even as adults, we can act like my toddler daughter, oblivious to the fact that anchoring ourselves onto our own agendas and plans can deprive us of the glories prepared for us by the Father. We want to hold on to our “old brown sandals” and we resent any opposition, even from God Who truly knows what’s best for us. We too often kick and yell and scream as He unsnaps us from our small agendas, bad attitudes, and selfish desires, His only desire being to “get us dressed” for real relationship with Himself. He might even tolerate our complaining for a season, but in the end, for us to enjoy the delights of full and free fellowship with Him, we’re going to have to submit to His authority and surrender to His love.
The one who can do that, “… will receive blessing from the LORD and vindication from God his Savior. Such is the generation of those who seek Him…. Lift up your heads, O you gates; be lifted up, you ancient doors, that the King of glory may come in. Who is this King of glory? The LORD strong and mighty, the LORD mighty in battle…. Who is He, this King of glory? The LORD Almighty – He is the King of glory” (Psalm 24:5-6a, 7-8, 10 NIV).
(Thom Mollohan and his family have ministered in southern Ohio the past twelve years. He is the pastor of Pathway Community Church, which meets on Sunday mornings at 455 Third Avenue. He may be reached for comments or questions by email at pastorthom@pathwaygallipolis.com).
