Jesus Isn't Decaf (By Naomi Meyers)

After a brief moment of hesitation and short inner struggle with the ill-advised plan, I quickly tapped the button posting the advertisement. “Looking For The Last Best Man.” It didn’t take long for responses to ensue. Apparently, males have an undeniable need to protect the reputation of their gender, although many of the responses only more vividly underscored the basis of my statement. If those responses were the measure, there were, indeed, very few decent men left. One responded only in Shakespearean style verbiage. One was obsessed with keeping up appearances. Others were so painfully lacking in manners they were immediately deleted. Others were nice for a conversation or two but ultimately missed the mark. When all the responses were sorted, only one measured up. I married him nearly two decades ago. 

We sent out about 200 wedding invitations. Responses came back. Most invitees planned to attend. Some sent regrets. When the day arrived, the weather was perfect. The wedding, held in a beautiful little chapel with stained glass windows, was a lovely event. Our friends gathered in their wedding attire. Suits and ties. Beautiful dresses. Everyone came dressed respectfully for a wedding. No ripped jeans or faded T-shirts. I wouldn’t have kicked them out if they had been incorrectly attired. But Jesus did. 

In Jesus’ wedding feast parable of Matthew 22, the king of the feast had been rebuffed by the original invitees. They didn’t want to come. He sent his servants to invite them a second time, hoping they would change their minds. They didn’t. Some of them even murdered the servant messengers. Angry at this second spurning of his graciousness, the king sent his troops to destroy the murderers. Then he sent his servants out to the fringes of the city to invite as many people as they could find to come indulge in his feast. 

They brought everyone! Good people. Evil people. Poor people. Rich people. So many people the wedding feast was filled with attendees. The king came in and began to look over the guests his servants had brought in at his command. He was pleased until his eyes lit on one man. A man who hadn’t bothered to put on wedding garments. 

Right now, I’m trying to understand what constituted wedding garments. My 21st-century mind conjures a man with unkempt hair and beard, stained shirt half-tucked into his grease-covered jeans. Filthy work boots with untied laces thudding the floor with every step. Unwashed hands. Dirt caked under his fingernails. His evident lack of a shower preceding him by several feet. But jeans weren’t even a thing then. That can’t be what the king in the parable saw. So what did he see? What was it that made him deem this man unworthy to attend? What made the king banish that particular guest to outer darkness?

Did he skulk in with donkey dirt stuck to his skin? Was there a stain on his robe, a tear in his hem? Did he have crumbs in his beard? Was he still wearing his work sandals? Or was it something less tangible, less obvious? A shifty look in his eyes. A subversive set to his shoulders. A sullen set of defiance in his jaw. Is it possible the king’s issue wasn’t with the guest’s outer garments at all? Could it be that his robe was pristine, his hygiene impeccable, but his actions and intentions deplorable? Was he appropriately attired on the outside, but in woeful disarray on the inside? (Matthew 22:1-14)

Immediately I’m back in the 21st century reading religious t-shirts as I walk through the store, sit in church, watch a little league game. They’ve become the rage in recent years. Seems everyone has one. Some have a Scripture passage across the front. Others have a catchy little “Jesus slogan” down the back. Those shirts identify the wearer as a Jesus follower. Or at least someone who claims to be. People read that shirt and their expectations increase. They expect love and kindness. They think Jesus will ooze out of their pores. Then the T-shirt wearer starts talking and the truth becomes embarrassingly obvious. The t-shirt is often as deep as their Jesus goes. 

See, it’s easy to forget you are wearing a Jesus t-shirt when the cashier irritates you, your child decides to scream at the top of their lungs in the grocery store, the guy in the big truck cuts you off, or the school bully makes your son their target. I know. I’ve been in every one of those situations. Your lips bow down in consternation. Your mouth says something it shouldn’t. Your soul twists in frustration, anger, irritation, revenge. You forget you are accountable for your actions. You forget your clothes say you represent Jesus. Your T-shirt might pronounce you ready for Jesus’ wedding feast, but the actions springing from the state of your heart say you aren’t. 

Unfortunately, for every beauty seeker, fashion follower, and trendsetter out there, none of the outside fluff matters if the inside isn’t right. Not the latest fashions. Not a t-shirt with a religious slogan. Not perfect hair and makeup. Not the giant donation you make to the children’s home. Not the facade you wear at church or around your friends. Not the godly posts you put on social media. All of that is external. It’s all skin-deep. None of it will get you welcomed to Jesus’ wedding feast. Wedding garments aren’t about your stellar accomplishments, commendable actions, or outer attraction. Wedding garments are all about what’s in your heart.  

 In a thought-provoking passage, Jesus tells us that the things we pamper and tolerate and nourish in our hearts will be evidenced in our lives. (Luke 6:45; Matthew 7:16) Blessings. Cursing. Love. Hate. Apparently, we don’t believe it. If our actions are the measuring stick, and Jesus says they are, I’m afraid we don’t measure up. So many people are still trying to buy their way into Heaven with a big donation to the church building fund, a time donation on a mission trip, or a grocery donation to the food bank. Anyone, from a heart of good or evil, can do those things. Not one of them will buy you entrance to the wedding feast. These things are not what Jesus is talking about. 

Jesus is talking about things that can’t be housed in a building and can’t spring from a heart of sin. Loving your enemies, for instance. Doing good to the person who hates you. Praying for the one who mistreats you. Looking beyond the offense to the cause and praying for the need from which the offense sprung. He’s talking about forgiveness. Not just the words. The unseen actions that make them true. Abandoning ideas of revenge. Loving when it’s uncomfortable. Showing mercy when it isn’t deserved. Not keeping a tally of wrongs. (Luke 6:27-38; Micah 6:8; I Corinthians 13:5; Proverbs 23:7)

We aren’t good at any of this. Not on our own. We can’t be. Our hearts are solely human and our humanity is exclusively selfish. It is only through repentance, forgiveness of sins, and the indwelling of the Holy Spirit that we can do the things God requires of us. It is only through Christ we can look in the closet of our hearts and find anything remotely good enough to wear to the marriage supper of the Lamb. Not by our works, but by His work in us. (Ephesians 2:10; Philippians 2:13, 4:13)

When Jesus died on the cross, He extended an invitation for all humanity to come to the wedding supper of the Lamb. Millions of invitations. Whoever wants to come, can come. No membership classes. No secret handshake. No special lingo. Only one simple requirement. Christ in you, flowing through you, running out of you. It’s more than a generous donation to missions. More than showing up at church every Sunday. More than a T-shirt slogan. It’s living like Jesus every single day in every single way. This is the dress code for a seat at Jesus’ wedding supper. 

You can change your clothes a hundred times, make your hair and makeup perfect, practice all the right phrases, learn the proper behavior, but if Jesus doesn’t saturate your heart, you won’t get a seat at the wedding feast. You can wear a Jesus T-shirt, volunteer at church, donate your body for martyrdom, but if your words and actions spring from anything other than a heart bursting with God’s presence, someone else will get your seat. Or you can come, just like you are, rags or riches, articulate or stuttering, imperfect or exquisite. You can consecrate your entire being–heart, body, mind, and soul–to Jesus Christ. Allow Him to renovate your heart and life, live in you, flow through you, gush out of you. Then, and only then, can you be assured of a seat at the marriage supper of the Lamb.  (I Corinthians 13:3)

Jesus is inviting you to be so much more than the words on a T-shirt. He’s inviting you to be His guest at His wedding feast. He wants to help you get into your wedding garments. The choice is yours. The T-shirts and trappings of the world, or life and eternity with Him. The choice seems simple, but I feel compelled to ask, what are you choosing to wear? (Revelation 3:20, 22:17; John 6:37)