Posted at 00:57h
Why do people dress up for God?
, Woo woo
I remember being a kid on Sunday mornings watching my friends climb into their parent’s station wagons to go to church. The girls had on prissy, pressed dresses and patent leather mary janes; the boys wore skinny neckties and little plaid sports jackets with sleeves that always seemed too short. They were miniature versions of their parents.
Looking back, I’m not sure who they thought they were kidding. I don’t imagine God was fooled by a primly folded, breast pocket handkerchief or string of pearls.
Being all omniscient, God sees everything, right? He knows what we look like in the morning in our ragtag pajamas and cockeyed bed-head hair. He knows we wear stained jeans and socks with holes in them. He knows, to my horror, the condition of our underwear. And, because he’s so damn omnipotent, he knows how badly we can behave — bitchy and cranky and passive aggressive (who me?) and impatient and judgmental and superior and…oh, how I could go on.
There’s no slipping a mickey past this God guy.