God's promise in the garment
The head waiter was unperturbed. He didn't care that this was our honeymoon. It didn't matter that the evening at the fancy restaurant was a wedding gift. He didn't care in the slightest that my wife, Denalyn, and I had skipped lunch so we could have enough appetite for dinner. All of that was insignificant compared to the momentous problem brewing. I wasn't wearing a jacket.
I hadn't known I needed one. I thought a sports shirt would be enough. I was clean and neatly dressed. But the gentleman with the black tie and the French accent was unfazed. He showed everyone to their seats. Mr. and Mrs. Gallant were shown to a table, Mr. and Mrs. Arrogant were seated. But Mr. and Mrs. Without a Jacket?
If I'd had another choice, I wouldn't have begged. But I had no choice. It was already late. The other restaurants were closed or fully booked, and we were hungry. There has to be a way, I begged. He looked at me, then at Denalyn, and let out a deep sigh. I'll try to find a solution.
He disappeared into the cloakroom and came back with a jacket. Put this on. I did. The sleeves were too short, the shoulders too tight, and the color was lime green. But I couldn't complain. I had a jacket, and we were shown to a table. Despite all the inconveniences, we eventually got a wonderful meal and an even more wonderful parable. I needed a jacket, but all I had was a request. The man was too gracious to send me away, but too law-abiding to ease the demands. So the one who demanded a jacket gave me one, and we were shown a table.
Didn't that also happen on the cross? The poorly dressed don't get a place at God's table. But who among us can meet the requirements? Sloppy values, careless with the truth, indifferent to people. Our moral garments are unkempt. Yes, the requirements for a place at God's table are high, but God's love for his children is higher. That's why he gives us a gift. Not a lime green jacket, but a seamless robe. Not a garment pulled from a closet, but a robe worn by Jesus, his Son.
The Bible doesn't tell us much about the clothing Jesus wore. We know what his cousin, John the Baptist, wore. We know what the religious leaders wore. But Jesus' clothing is not described: it was probably neither so poor as to touch hearts, nor so splendid as to make people turn around to look at him. One reference to Jesus' clothing is noteworthy: "When the soldiers had crucified Jesus, they took his clothes and divided them into four parts, one for each soldier, and also his robe. It was woven from the top in one piece without any sewing. So they said to one another, 'Let us not tear it, but cast lots for it to see whose it shall be'" (John 1).9,23-24).
It must have been Jesus's best piece. According to Jewish tradition, a mother was supposed to weave such a garment and give it to her son as a farewell gift when he left his parents' home. Did Mary do this for Jesus? We don't know. But we do know that the outer garment was seamless, woven from top to bottom. Why is this significant?
The Holy Scripture often compares our behavior to the clothes we wear: «All of you, clothe yourselves with humility» (1. Petrus 5,5). David says that wicked people "put on the curse like a shirt" (Psalm 109,18). Clothes can serve as symbols of character, and like this garment, Jesus' character was seamless, balanced, and of one piece. He was like his garment: unbroken perfection. Woven from the top down. Jesus was not led by his own thoughts, but by the thoughts of his Father. Listen to his words: "The Son can do nothing of himself, but only what he sees the Father doing; for whatever the Father does, these also the Son does likewise" (John 5,19). Jesus said: "I can do nothing on my own. As I hear, so I judge" (John 5,30. The character of Jesus was seamlessly woven from heaven to earth... from God's thoughts to Jesus' actions, from God's tears to Jesus' compassion, from God's word to Jesus' response, all one piece, all a picture of Jesus' character. Yet when Christ was nailed to the cross, he laid aside his garment of seamless perfection and put on another garment, the garment of shame. The shame of nakedness. Barely exposed before his own mother and those closest to him, degraded before his family. The shame of failure. For a few agonizing hours, the religious leaders were victors, and Christ looked like the loser, degraded before his accusers. Worst of all, he bore the shame of sin: "Who himself bore our sins in his body on the tree, that we, having died to sin, might live for righteousness" (1. Petrus 2,24).
Christ's clothing on the cross? Sin—their sin and mine. The sins of all humanity. I remember my father once explaining to me why a group of men standing by the roadside wore striped clothing. They were prisoners, he said. They had broken the law and were serving their sentence. Do you know what amazed me most about those men? They never looked up. They avoided all eye contact. Were they ashamed? Probably. What they felt on the side of the road, our Savior felt on the cross—shame. Every detail of the crucifixion was planned to not only cause the victim pain but also to degrade them. Death on the cross was usually reserved for the most dishonorable offenders: slaves, felons, and murderers.
The condemned man was led through the city streets with the crossbeams on his shoulders, and a sign declaring his crime hung around his neck. At the place of execution, he was stripped naked and mocked. Crucifixion was so abhorrent that Cicero wrote: "Let the very name of the cross be removed, not only from the body of a Roman citizen, but even from his thoughts, his eyes, and his ears."
Jesus was not humiliated before men, but before heaven. Bearing the sin of a murderer and adulterer, he felt the shame of a murderer and adulterer. Although he had never lied, he bore the reproach of a liar. Although he had never cheated, he felt the disgrace of a cheater. Bearing the sin of the world, he felt all the shame of the world. No wonder the book of Hebrews says that he "bears his reproach" (Hebrews 13,13).
On the cross, Jesus felt the shame and disgrace of a criminal. No, he was not guilty, he had committed no sin. No, he did not deserve the judgment. But you and I were guilty, had sinned, and deserved the judgment. We were in the same position as I was with the head waiter—all we have to offer is a request. Jesus, however, goes further than the head waiter. Can you imagine the owner of the restaurant taking off his tuxedo and giving it to me? Jesus does. We're not talking about an ill-fitting, leftover jacket. Jesus offers a garment of seamless purity and puts on my coat, patched together out of pride, greed, and selfishness. He has traded places with us (see Galatians 3,13). He bore our sin so that we might bear his righteousness. Although we come to the cross clothed in sin, we leave the cross with the "breastplate of righteousness" (Isaiah 59,17) and girded with the belt of «faithfulness» (Isaiah 11,5) and clothed with the «garments of salvation» (Isaiah 61,10).
In fact, we leave the cross clothed with Christ himself: "For you are all children of God through faith in Christ Jesus. For all of you who were baptized into Christ have clothed yourself with Christ" (Galatians 3,26-27).
It wasn't enough for Jesus to prepare a feast for you. It wasn't enough for him to reserve a seat for you. It wasn't enough for him to cover the costs and arrange transportation to the feast. He did even more. He gave you his own clothes so you would be dressed appropriately. Jesus did it for you—intentionally and out of love, just for you personally.
by Max Lucado
This text was taken from the book "Never stop starting again" by Max Lucado, published by Gerth Medien ©2022 was issued. Max Lucado is the longtime pastor of Oak Hills Church in San Antonio, Texas. Used with permission.
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