The New Jacket
By Wayne Taylor
The new church was going to have its’ first service this Sunday. People had seen the building being constructed and wondered what kind of church it might be. The word had gotten around that the pastor was very dynamic and charismatic. His sermons cut to the core of the heart, yet seemed to heal and bring hope and life. Everywhere he had been, people came in droves to hear him.
Invitations to the first service had gone out and I was determined to be one of the first ones to be there and meet him personally. I got up, showered and shaved. “Honey, what are you going to wear?” my wife asked. “Oh, I’m going to wear my best… my Sunday suit!” My wife knew what that was. It was my black suit with all the pins on it. I have one pin in the shape of a fish hook, another one in the shape of a fish, another one for perfect attendance five years in a row in Sunday school (I got that one in the fifth grade). I also have a “faith” tie I wear to show that I believe in the Ten Commandments and all.
As my wife and I got ready to leave, I grabbed my Scofield Reference Bible (King James Version) with the big leather case and all my tracts. I was anxious to get there and knew that any new pastor or new church would be needing someone of my knowledge of the Bible and church experience.
We drove to the church, and parked our car close to the front. That is where visitors park, and after all, I was a visitor. We weren’t the first ones there. There were men and women in the parking lot and along the sidewalk greeting us. “Welcome to Christ’s Church!” the first one said. “It had better’d be Christ’s Church,” I thought. The second couple seemed to look at me strange, yet welcomed me warmly. “How are you today? Welcome! Do you live near here?” they asked. “Yes,” I said. “Just a couple of miles from here. It is sure good to see a new church so close to home.”
When we got to the door, a nice looking man stopped me and introduced himself. “Hi! I am the pastor here.” Then, I noticed him giving me the once-over. “Is there something wrong?” I asked. I glanced at my suit to make sure the pants matched the jacket.
“Nothing I can’t help you with,” the pastor said with a smile. “Where did you get this suit?”
“I don’t understand what you mean. This is my Sunday suit. I always wear this suit when I go to church! Why? What’s wrong with it?” I was starting to get a little angry. I looked at my wife and she looked a little embarrassed.
“It is not right for worship here. Let me show you. See that pen?” the pastor asked. “That ‘Praying Hands’ pen shows that you pray a lot. When do you pray? At dinner? At church?”
“Well, yes, I pray at those times. My last pastor had me give the opening prayer all the time. I took great pride in that. You don’t get asked to pray unless you know how to really pray, and I know how to pray!” I retorted.
“I know. Do you just talk with God? I mean about the little things, or just the things you think He wants to hear you say? Do you ever spend time listening to Him? Reading His word looking for His direction?”
“Now, listen here!” I was getting more than a little miffed. Who was he to question MY spirituality? “I read this Bible,” I shouted, shaking my Scoffield in his face. “I go to Sunday school. I taught the Bible for years. See this pin?” I said pointing to the Open Bible Pin on my tie.
“I do other things for the church too. I was a trustee. I worked at the church cutting the grass, cleaning the building, fixing up things. Why I got a certificate twice for being the most valuable member! I go on mission trips with the youth. They need a good example to follow and I try to show them how to live. I’ve worked hard to get this religious….” And then it hit me. The pastor was trying to show me that my relationship with Jesus was more important than my religious activities. That is why he asked me about talking with God.
I stuttered, “Uh… I’m sorry for yelling. I think I know what you were trying to get me to see. I just have worked hard all my days to do the things that would make God proud of me, want me to be with Him. I don’t know any other way. “
“But your faith has not been in Him, it has been in the things you do,” he calmly said. “Let me show you a better way. Do you want it? He asked.
“Well, uh, yes I do!” I said.
“Here, give me your coat.”
“I don’t know. I’ve worn this coat all my life.”
“Yes, and it is time you got rid of it. You won’t be able to wear it in here. If you did, you wouldn’t feel comfortable. Nothing will make sense.” The pastor reached out to take my coat. Slowly, I took it off and gave it to him. I knew I would never see it and all those pens again. “Now, give me your tie and tie tack.” I untied my tie and handed it to him.
“Now, put this jacket on,” He said as he reached inside the door and took a beautiful white jacket from the coat rack. I don’t know how he knew my size, but the jacket fit perfectly. There were no pins on it, but it looked great! Strangely, I felt different on the inside too. This man had just taken my Sunday suit I had worn for all my adult life, and yet, I found myself smiling, standing straighter, and feeling like a great weight had been lifted from my shoulders. “This jacket is made by Grace. What you have done is not as important as having a relationship with Him. Come in and meet my Master!”
Tears rolled down my cheeks as I walked in through the door.