In the Bible, we meet the God who also does not prance around naked as a jaybird.
There is something highly personal about looking into another person's closet. We might pause at the threshold—can I, should I, walk in there? Sure, clothes are clothes, but this isn't Old Navy; these are somebody's clothes. There's the faded T-shirt he wears to mow the lawn, the sequined dress she wore to the fundraiser last year, the Hoka's beside those four-inch heels that, like an exhausted traveler, have slouched over. Personal stuff. Things that have touched another's skin.
Closets hold the tangible items that keep us from walking unclad through this world.
In the Bible, we meet the God who also does not prance around naked as a jaybird. Nor is he the least bit hesitant about flinging open the doors of his wardrobe for all the world to see. In fact, he wants us to know what on earth he is wearing.
So, come along. Let's step inside our Lord's closet and see what's on the biblical hanger.
The Silly
That goofy Hawaiian shirt in your closet has a divine equivalent: it's a donkey. And a talking donkey at that. The gist of the story is that Balaam, the beast's master, needed a come-to-Jesus meeting, so "the Lord opened the mouth of the donkey" (22:28). Rather than the braying of a hee-haw, however, a very human-sounding word of reproof came from the donkey's mouth. This then opened Balaam's eyes to spy a nearby divine messenger, sword in hand.
You mean to say the Lord wore a donkey? Yes, sir, for that donkey was his mouthpiece. Who says God doesn't have a sense of humor? He cloaked himself in this lowly beast "with monstrous head and sickening cry / And ears like errant wings" (G.K. Chesterton), just as, much later, he would jostle atop a similar beast to ride into Jerusalem with palms before his feet.
The Earthy
Leaving the silly aside, what other outfits can we find in the Lord's closet? Maybe something a little more earthy and a lot more familiar? You bet; how about a human body? No, I don't mean the incarnation (though we will get to that). I mean in the Old Testament when, more than once, the Lord appeared in human guise, "trying on the clothes of his incarnation" (David Murray).
Two situations come to mind. One of these was when the Lord and two angels paid a visit to Abraham. They are initially described as "three men" (Gen. 18:2). Men because, well, they looked just like dudes. No halos or wings. Just feet, legs, arms, and faces. Oh, and mouths, because not only did the Lord have a chat with Abraham about the upcoming birth of Isaac, but all three of the visitors downed a lunch of veal and curds (18:8).
Likewise, later on, the special Messenger of the Lord (i.e., the Son of God) showed up at the address of Manoah and Mrs. Manoah, the soon-to-be parents of Samson (Judges 13). He is called "a man of God" (v. 6, 8) and "the man" (v. 10). Only after the "man" suddenly ascended heavenward amid the flames of a sacrifice did this couple realize they had not been chatting with an average Joe Israelite. Once again, the Lord showed up in a human body.
So far, we have God wearing a donkey and temporarily donning our human nature to visit future moms and dads. Is that all? Hardly!
The Ordinary Extraordinary
The divine closet is also packed with ordinary, extraordinary attire. What I mean is this: Our Lord will take ordinary stuff, like fire and clouds, and use them as his extraordinary clothing.
Most famously, he appeared to Moses "in a flame of fire out of the midst of the bush" atop Mt. Sinai (Exod. 3:2). Later, in a much more dramatic fashion, he covered the entire mountain "with fire to the heart of heaven" (Deut. 4:11). Jumping ahead to the New Testament, the Holy Spirit made his appearance at Pentecost in "divided tongues as of fire" (Acts 2:3).
At other times, the Lord selected a cloud from his wardrobe. He wore a "pillar of cloud" uniform to march through the wilderness (Exod. 13:21). On the day that his Son was transfigured, the Father again wrapped a bright cloud around himself and said, "This is my beloved Son, with whom I am well pleased; listen to him" (Matt. 17:5).
We could go on and on. When God lectures Job, he cloaks himself in a whirlwind (Job 38:1). When Isaiah has a vision of the enthroned Lord, the "train of his robe [שׁוּל] filled the temple" (Isa. 6:1). That Hebrew word (shûl) suggests that the Lord appeared in priestly vestments since shûl refers to the "hem of the robe" of the high priest (e.g., Exod. 28:33-34).
Where's All This Leading?
When we ask, "Dear God, what on earth are you wearing?" the answer is, "On earth, I have worn many things." A donkey, priestly vestments, fire, cloud, whirlwind, and more. Most importantly, though, many times in the Old Testament, he walked and talked among his people with a temporarily assumed human nature.
When we ask, "Dear God, what on earth are you wearing?" the answer is, "On earth, I have worn many things."
Why is this most important? Because these occasions were an unmissable divine wink of his coming incarnation, when he permanently, everlastingly made our human nature his own. In Mary's womb, the Son of the Father did not simply "put on" our human nature so he could later disrobe that nature. The Word did not "try out" being flesh; he became flesh (John 1:14). He became human while remaining divine.
That God-Man still pays us visits. He slips into the water of baptism so that in this liquid outfit, he might wash us clean and make us his own. He is in the hungry we feed, the sick we visit, the stranger we welcome (Matt. 25:35-40). He puts on bread and wine at the Supper to feed us none other than himself, his own body and blood.
All this he does, that we too might be clothed with himself, with Christ (Gal. 3:27), from head to toe, heart and soul, now and forever.
