Life is not a popularity contest, which is a good thing, because very few of us would be very popular. It may not be a fashion contest either, for which I am grateful. If it ain't t-shirts and jeans, I feel overdressed, and with the right combination of jeans and t-shirts I can be ready for any occasion that arises. At least in my own eyes.
While eating yesterday at Tommy's, I'll have my regular #3 with extra chili and extra onions please, I felt like I was in a fashion dilemma. Or at least a personnel/personal dilemma. Just before I reached the front door, a rather attractive, professionally dressed blonde was trying to figure out why the door said pull and it wouldn't push open. "Push the other way!" was my first thought, and I could hear a voice telling her the same thing. Which she did, and then started to turn right for the bathrooms-which were on her left. Similar command, same idea, "no the other left!" and somehow she navigated the remaining 15 feet herself. But I found her out of place here, dressed professionally, you know the drill, and this is definitely more my style-with stains on my shirt to prove what I have just had for lunch.
Returning she sat with another man who was just as over dressed, and then started to talk. She honked! She sounded just like a goose! And it was funny enough to make me want to giggle, and as the goose jokes started to occupy my mind, fortunately the food arrived. Hunger had taken over, and I was ok-but she still honked. And I thought to myself what an interesting woman, with an interesting voice, eating food she claimed she had never had before. I hoped her honk was louder than her bite. All dressed up, and this was where she chose to go!
Behind me were three rather large Spanish men, all dressed the same. They were quite dapper, but the three all had the same collared shirts on-they looked like flowered table cloths from a Mexican restaurant. You couldn't help but hear them, and one time I turned to see them laughing, and my first thought was they were a singing group. Again, overdressed, but tastefully-if they were a table cloth in El Cholo.
Then another old man came in-probably my age, but shaggy grey hair, in a style left over from Woodstock. With some pagan shirt on advertising the Scourge, whatever that was, the shirt had been there, and he sat the whole time across from me eyeing me carefully-so I did him too. From what I could tell this shirt was short on a love message, and this guy could be the next serial killer-I wasn't sure I wanted to be his next headline, or victim. A couple other younger types came in, amazing how hard it is for some to work the ketchup machine, and I finished and left. Safe and secure that my t-shirt and I would live to eat again. That despite where the bathroom was or which way the door opened, I would find it, and still wondering what the scourge was. And who were the three guys in the flowered shirts? And why is it so hard to push down on the ketchup dispenser?this
We hate to be stereotyped, but had I fallen into scenario honestly? Or were all these people just what they appeared to be? Was I? What if the scourge guy was really a youth pastor, working with kids? What if the three companeros were Mexican mafia? Would their clothes still be funny? And would the pretty girl with no sense of direction still be as pretty if she didn't honk? The only thing I was sure of was for the first time in weeks, I hadn't worn any of my food out of the restaurant. So much for my people watching at lunch today.
People are always watching us, too. Think about that when you explode on someone with your Jesus t-shirt, when they are trying to relax at lunch. Or show some restraint when some Metal head interrupts you while you are eating. Don't let these clothes encounters ruin your time, or start off on the wrong foot. I am reminded of talking with a pastor in church one night who didn't know me. I had on my M25B skull shirt that Christopher had designed. He kept looking at me, and I finally called him on it. All he saw was a skull, which meant death, which meant loser, which meant probably not a Christian, and he would have to talk to me. But when I explained, He smiled. Simply put, the skull represents Golgotha-where Jesus was crucified. The cross on the skull represents Him. The crossed pistons with the crosses on the end represent the two thieves who were hung with Him. "One denied Jesus, the other was promised to be in paradise with Him. Which one do you associate with?" Now he got it-the gospel, very simple, and direct. Which called for an answer. What does your shirt say? What does your attitude say? What do you say?
My clothes encounter said more about me than it did those I observed. My prejudice is simple. Please God, change my heart. Let me see more than a pretty woman with no sense. Pray for her. Let me look past the Woodstock haircut and see the pain in this man's eyes. Again pray for him. Laugh with the tablecloth shirted guys. For in each one, a glimpse of Jesus is seen. For I needed prayer myself that day, and I wonder what my shirt said? What did my attitude say? Would you have approached me?
Let the only decision you make today be the one to trust God. For despite our good looks beats a heart that desperately needs Jesus. You just may miss the perfect lunch companion if you don't. For who knows what evil lurks behind your t-shirt message? Only the spirit knows!
love with compassion,
Mike
matthew25biker.blogspot.com