I Am Done With... My Sunday Best

When I moved to Tennessee, there was something that I realized almost instantly. EVERYONE goes to church.

On Sundays out here, a transformation takes place and suddenly everyone is wearing a nice dress, a clean suit, button up shirts and khakis, with the cleanest pair of weekly worn shoes that can be found. Though it may be more noticeable of a change down here in the south, this kind of transformation happens all over and in more than one way.

On Sunday mornings everything is hidden, swept under the carpet, and stuffed in the closet. All swearing, addictions, short comings, and relational problems are put on hold as families all over pack into the car and go to church.

Lobbies, pews, and parking lots should instead be called stages, because when we put on our Sunday Best, we are putting on a transformation of identity that can sometimes be oscar worthy.

I am done with this thought that perfection is really what the Church is about.

I am done pretending that I am not broken.

We are a beautiful letdown
Painfully uncool
The church of the dropouts
The losers, the sinners, the failures, and the fools
What a beautiful letdown
Are we salt in the wound
Hey, let us sing one true tune
-Switchfoot