Not just fashion

Dear Journal—
I hate school.  I keep trying to be a light to everyone, but no matter what I do, it’s wrong.  If I go along, I know I’m sinning.  If I speak up, they take offense, but if I keep quiet they do the same.  Why won’t they just leave me alone?  Half the girls there are always wearing jeans that strangle their legs, or skirts far above their knees.  Seriously?  Do they really think they’ve got the whole modesty thing down? Because, you know, they don’t!  The other day a new style suddenly came in—high tops.  Not shoes, shirts.  It was ridiculous how they all seemed to synchronize the fashion, but it was even more ridiculous how they had to stretch the shirts to reach the top of their jeans.  Honestly!  And the adults all seemed blind, or maybe they figure if it isn’t bullying, it’s all good.  I don’t know.  You know Marcie, right?  She’s like the only good friend I have there, but she’s infected, too.  Somehow she caught wind of the new style and wore one today, though she seemed a little uncomfortable. (And with good reason!)  Maybe she noticed I was more silent than usual, maybe she noticed my eyes skipping her midriff, or maybe she noticed me constantly tugging my own sweater, but she asked me during lunch.
“What do you think of my shirt?”  Bad move, Marcie.  Didn’t we use to talk about modesty a lot only a few months ago?
“You really want to know?”  She nodded, sending her ‘perfect’ curls bobbing.  Another new fashion that didn’t look so good on her but was all the rage.
“I think it’s immodest and a little silly.  It’s October for Pete sake!  Aren’t you chilly in that flimsy thing?”  We’d been friends for a long time, so I figured I could share my honest opinion.  Mistake number one.
“Hey! If I like it, it’s fine, right?”  She pulled back, her eyes flashing anger at me for the first time since I spilled her ice-cream in second grade.
“That’s the thing Marcie, sometimes it’s not fine.”  I lowered my voice so even someone trying to listen wouldn’t be able to.  “Look, your new tight pants, short skirts, and silly tops are turning boy’s heads.”
She blushed red in what usually I called the Marcie-bright.  Not so innocent today.  “I know… I kind of…”
“Don’t even go there Marcie, that’s not a good thing.  Remember how we’re supposed to save that for later?”
“Maybe so, but Jenny, isn’t it their fault?  I should wear whatever I want, and if they’re weird about it it’s their problem!”  She slammed her spoon back into the flaky mashed potatoes a little harder than necessary.
“It’s not like that, Marcie, it’s just not.  They can’t really control it, and we can.  We have like a power over them, and we can’t just ruin them because we have to right to wear whatever.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?  Just because you dress like a nun and insist on looking awful doesn’t mean I have to!”  She gestured to my khakis and navy blue sweater embroidered with yellow.
“Marcie, I don’t dress like a nun, you know that.  I love bright colors just as much as you do.  I just wear them without wearing scraps.”
“Are you calling my clothing scraps?”  She adjusted her shirt with an angry twitch.
“No, no, no, sorry, Marcie.  I’m not, I’m just saying it seems like we should dress carefully.”
“I still don’t see a problem.  Sheesh, Jenny, it’s just fashion!”  I never thought I’d hear Marcie say that.
“It’s not just fashion!  It’s about honoring God with everything.  And it goes beyond mini-skirts and tickly tops; it goes to not flirting, to acting modest.  Jesus wants us to value and please Him more than other people.”
“Enough, Jenny, you’re so preachy these days.  I’m getting sick of it.  Just leave me alone, okay?  You can stay here and be the pigtail braids behind-the-times club if you want, but I’m leaving.”
“Marcie, hold on, I didn’t mean…”  She stalked off with her half-empty tray to join her new friends—the toothpick girls.  Stick skinny, flirty, wearing hardly any clothes, they deserved the name, but something in me didn’t want to call Marcie that even as I watched a couple boys struggle to focus on their food instead of the strip of skin left open.
There you go, Marcie.  Good luck, I guess.  I hope you find it empty and come back.  Until then, I’ll hold down the fort in the pigtail braids club.
But Marcie, never, never forget what I said—
It’s not just fashion.
Jenny




1 Corinthians 8:9 Be careful, however, that the exercise of your freedom does not become a stumbling block to the weak.
1 Cor. 8:12-13 When you sin against your brothers and wound them in this way and wound their weak conscience, you sin against Christ.  Therefore, if what I eat causes my brother to fall into sin, I will never eat meat again, so that I will not cause him to fall.
1 Peter 3:4 Instead, it (beauty) should be that of your inner self, the unfading beauty of a gentle and quiet spirit, which is of great worth in God’s sight.
Let’s live in our freedom without causing others to stumble.
--Esther Eaton

Faith begins in the heart but must not end there.  Faith must be in the home and the office and the school.