My phone was abuzz one day last December with texts from my children asking what to wear for a concert we were all attending the following evening. Our eldest, a spiffy dresser since he was four, said I should inform his brothers that he was wearing a sports jacket and polished shoes and that they should follow suit. One of his younger brothers didn’t inherit the oldest’s genes for smart collars and dressy shoes. That one’s wardrobe consists of comfortable hoodies, sweats, and sneakers. My oldest was aptly concerned that part of us would look like Jethro Bodine tromping into the Basilica of St. Mary’s!

My heart was overflowing. Everyone I loved most would gather to eat at my favorite restaurant and then attend my most beloved musical performances. The evening was my Christmas present to my family last year, and to me. Our togetherness has been especially meaningful to me these past few years and for all of them to say yes to Greek dinner and Handel’s Messiah together? I couldn’t have been happier! Though attire probably needed to be somewhat appropriate, I honestly couldn’t have cared less what everyone wore.

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A gal in my neighborhood who has become my friend has been considering the claims of Christ. It’s been decades since she’s been in church, but a year ago she joined a Bible Study in my home and began opening the Bible with a guarded yet investigative heart.

After three years our friendship has layers of depth, and she trusts me. Sitting cross-legged on my couch a few weeks ago with steaming cups of tea on the table between us, her hands were busy with her newest knitting project. She said without looking up: “Tell me your story. How did you become a Christian?”

Sometimes the Spirit moves like a lightning flash from heaven. Sometimes he woos slowly like thunder rolling on the distant horizon. I sensed my friend was being slowly and tenderly wooed by God.

Her unexpected invitation surprised me. My story, the one God wrote for me of His drawing me to Himself, is extraordinary. His holy fingerprints all over the breathings of my days still astonishes me, and it is my abounding joy to share it. As my friend knit plain and purl stitches into the sweater she was working on, I told her of my Master’s marvelous and miraculous work in my undeserving life. She simultaneously knit and listened intently.

After many minutes of unfolding the story my Redeemer has written for me, my friend interrupted, peering intently at me with her beautiful, dark brown eyes. “Does he come to our house or do we go to his?” Rapidly firing, she continued her train of hypothetical thoughts and questions. “So, I hear him knocking on the door of my heart and I say to myself, ‘Yes, I want to let him in’.” Dropping her knitting needles, she clarified abruptly, “Not that I have! Just, if I did let him in…”. She shrugged, softening, “What would I say to him?” Sheepishly, she offered an answer to her own question, “Would I say, ‘I’ve heard a lot about you.’?”

I leaned forward listening to my neighbor-friend whose thoughts were erupting. “I imagine he has come to invite me to a party.” With an upward toss of her hands, giving up her knitting altogether, she continued, “What would I wear to the party?” She looked penetratingly at me; this time wanting an answer. “What do I wear?” She blurted out, “I mean, how would I dress before God?”

My increasingly dear friend is a deep well, and I feel a kindredness to her depth and honest inquiries. I heard her asking me what she would wear should she become a Christ-follower? What would she put on to enter the throne room of God in all His glory? What outfit, she wondered, would she wear to meet the King of kings? What kind of garment would be good enough or beautiful enough? What attire would be appropriate for such an occasion?

I pressed my palms together and brought them to my lips as a huge smile unfolded behind them. The Lord prompted me, and I lowered my fingers slightly to speak, “A robe,” I whispered confidently. “There is only one thing we can wear to stand before God and live; the robe of Jesus’ righteousness.”

Reaching for my teacup, I told her of the stunning profundity of her question, and I asked her permission to unpack together and explore this weighty topic.

I’m surprised that for a girl who likes shoes as much as I do, I’ve never consciously pondered my heavenly outfit. In all my years of loving Jesus, I’ll admit I have not considered, nor ever lingered over this critically important detail: “What will I wear when I stand before God in heaven?”

Invited by Jesus to the everlasting party of the Kingdom of Heaven, we’ll all be dressed alike. There is only one thing we would wear because there is only one thing any of us could wear to stand before holy God and live. As repentant and forgiven believers in Christ, we’ll be wearing a robe; a robe that is given to us. We’ll be clothed in the robe of Jesus’ righteousness.

“When He shall come with trumpet sound
Oh, may I then in Him be found
Dressed in His righteousness alone
Faultless to stand before the throne

On Christ the solid rock I stand, all other ground is sinking sand
All other ground is sinking sand.”

-The Solid Rock, verse 4 and chorus – Edward Mote

Isaiah 61:10
“I delight greatly in the LORD; my soul rejoices in my God.
For he has clothed me with garments of salvation and arrayed me in a robe of his righteousness.”