My childhood conjures many memories, one being my favorite past-time of playing dress-up.  I can still recall the fun of slipping away to my room and withdrawing items from a chest which had long been forsaken by their previous owners.   One can only imagine the excitement that I felt in making these abandoned treasures my own.  Hours would pass as I tried on clopping high-heeled shoes, flowing dresses and chunky necklaces that hung nearly to my toes.  The best-loved outfits were not necessarily the ones which matched or fit perfectly.  Sometimes the blouse which was four times too large or the polka-dot belt with the plaid pants won the day.  But the most admired garments did have some inherent quality about them that called me to pick them up, put them on and wear them proudly.  These pieces enjoyed the privilege of longer wear and an occasional appearance to girlhood friends or family members.  I even tried wearing some of the top ensembles in more public places, but was quickly told that purple hats, no matter how spectacular, don’t fit in just anywhere.  I learned that an eventual end to the fun must come so that I could reenter the world in which I lived.  So the favorite costume would be disassembled and all of the pieces set aside for another day.

Now that I am all grown up, I smile at my childhood antics and like to think that I’ve left them behind.  But it seems that I’ve carried my love for playing dress-up into adulthood, at least when it comes to living the Christian story.  I have welcomed practices which are common to the whole (universal) church, like prayer, baptism and the Lord’s Supper.  Furthermore, I have come to wear them according to the style of a particular tradition.   Some of these practices, like an oversized blouse, have taken some time to grow into.  Others, like the plaid pants and polka-dot belt, have been worn so much that it is hard to distinguish where they end and I begin.  Still others, like the purple hat, are my own personalized expressions of practice which are quite helpful to me but not imperative to others.  All of these portrayals of my Christian practice may be considered orthodox, fitting and good.  But I have come to see that some, like the dazzling purple hat, are not central to the Christian gospel.  As lovely as they are, they must at times be set aside for the sake of unity.   For example, though all Christians are encouraged to pray, not all must pray using a prayer journal.  In the world in which we now live, not all of one’s personalized expressions of practice should be worn in all places and our aim should be to display those which lead to peace and mutual edification. 

                                                            
My own lessons in doctrinal dress have been learned over time, sometimes the hard way. Though I’ve made some progress, even those pieces which I wear so honorably today may eventually turn out to be quite out of place or non-essential after all.  I expect that God, in his goodness, will one day strip away any vestige of improper display so that I may be clothed with immeasurably more, namely Jesus Christ.  On that day, even some of my most cherished garments will be removed for good, for he who is enveloped in splendor and majesty will exchange my imperfect sense of doctrinal fashion for his perfectly beautiful robe of righteousness.