White Pants of Perfection

It was Thursday. I knew when I woke up that it was going to be a back-to-back busy day. I had appointments starting first thing which would continue throughout the day. The little bit of free time I did have would be spent checking on some insurance information, talking with colleagues, and grabbing a quick bite to eat. After work, the busy would not stop. I would have to face rush-hour traffic in order to attend my first Maundy Thursday service at church.

I had before never attended a church with a Maundy Thursday service. In the traditional church calendar, Maundy Thursday is the Thursday before Easter, and it commemorates the Last Supper. I was unsure what to expect, but I wanted to experience the service, even it meant trying to navigate rush hour traffic.

I made it with time enough to settle my spirit a little from all the running around. As I looked around me, I noticed the lights had been turned down. Quiet penetrated the sanctuary. It was as if everything that had breath was able to sense that this represented a night that changed history. Candles shone a soft light on the podium and left shadows on the carpeted floor. My spirit was quieted. This moment was about Jesus and not my crazy-busy day.

The service began with the reading of Scripture. We sang together in worship. The pastor then preached about Jesus and his sacrifice on the cross.

Finally, we turned our attention to Communion. At my church, there is a small wooden altar with enough space for the sacraments. Our sacraments consist of grape juice and matzah crackers, and these were arranged on the altar so we could easily reach for them individually as we approached the altar in a line. We are all encouraged to take our time, beginning with silent prayer.

I prayed, reflecting on what Jesus has done for me and seeking to cleanse my heart of any anger, unforgiveness, pride, or other sin before I joined the line. Soft music began to play, people began to walk up front to collect their sacraments. We were to take them back to our seats and then eat and drink at the same time as a congregation.

I slowly stood up to take my place in the line. I made my way up to the altar, took the juice and matzah, and walked back to my seat.

Now, what happened next was not supposed to happen. This was not my first time taking Communion in this manner. But as I sat down, I spilled half the grape juice all over my pants.

Did I forget to mention I planned to attend a social function right after the service? True to who I am, I did not spill in one small spot. I didn’t spill on the inside of my leg so it might be hidden. It was on the front and rolled down my pants, so the spot was a couple of inches long. Don’t worry, though—my mistake didn’t get on the carpet or the pew. It was just all over my pants for everyone to see.

Here I was supposed to be reflecting on Jesus’s sacrifice and the love of our God, but I now have a big grape juice stain on the front of my pants. What went through my mind at that moment was something like this:

People are going to think I am stupid and that I don’t know how to handle a tiny cup of grape juice during Communion. They might not want to be around me and my mess. They may think that my life is a mess because my pants sure are. How fun will it be socializing with others with a huge stain on my pants for everyone to see.

Finally, I was able to return my attention to the service. As I listened to the pastor talk more about Jesus, I thought about what a wonderful Savior I have. The stain on my pants was forgotten for the moment. After the service ended, I walked out into the sun, still quietly pondering the pastor’s words.

When I got to my car, I remembered the stain and looked down. Guess what? It was gone! You never would have noticed that I‘d spilled the Communion cup. See, I was wearing burgundy pants that day. When the grape juice dried, it was the same color, which virtually erased the mistake. My first thought was, Now that’s grace!

God’s grace doesn’t go back in time and prevent me from spilling the grape juice. It doesn’t stop a stain from showing up on my pants. God’s grace doesn’t cause me to put on burgundy pants because I’m going to spill grape juice at church later in the day. No, the real grace is how Jesus shows up in spite of my error, and I am able to forget about it and focus on him instead.

To use my choice of burgundy pants as a metaphor, though, you could say some of us are walking around with white pants on, and when we make a mistake, it seems huge, un-hideable. With white pants, stains do seem to be bigger and darker. But God never called us to wear white pants of perfection. We put that burden on ourselves. God knows we will make mistakes, and he knows they will show for a little while. His plan, though, is to redeem us, virtually erasing the stain—if only we will choose not to wear white pants. Maybe it is time for you to stop trying to wear the white pants of perfection?

Jennifer Van Allen is a follower of Christ. She is a Licensed Mental Health Counselor and owns Faith In Counseling. Reading has been a lifelong passion. Other areas of joy are sewing, baking, working out and writing. She blogs at theprodigalpig.com and has a YouTube channel called Women Lovin’ Jesus.

Photograph © Priscilla Du Preez, used with permission