redefining modesty

there may still be snow on the ground here in indiana, but there is definitely something new in the air. every year about this time, here and on campuses across the country, young people are gripped by a unique and powerful feeling. no, it isn’t love. It’s spring break panic. girls and guys who have easily concealed a few winter pounds under layers of flannel shirts and bulky sweaters suddenly realize that in a few short weeks they will be donning swimsuits and heading for the beach. so like a herd of panicked animals, they all have stampeded to our university fitness center in a frenzied attempt to shed the extra insulation they have acquired over the last few bone-chilling months.

i find myself fairly immune to this common springtime disease. more truthfully, my case is a chronic one since i am in a constant state of panic about my extra pounds. but i am beyond the ritual of spring break flirtations and only put on swimsuits in public when required by law. i feel the impact of these additional bodies nonetheless and it isn’t the mere inconvenience of fewer available treadmills.

ironically, despite the university’s policy of modest dress for working out, the apparel of these young people often leaves little to the imagination. this seems to beg the question “if you are okay showing the world your love handles and added padding while jiggling about on the elliptical machine, why not save yourself the trouble and go eat another doughnut?”

all these scantily clad bodies create a huge challenge for me, one that i have struggled with for years but have recently come to see in a new light. i used to think of modesty as an issue between men and women, a careful balance of consideration for others (not being a stumbling block to others) and self-control (learning to control your own desires despite what others may or may not be wearing). i have long lectured my kids about the sacred nature of the body and the importance of honoring both our own bodies and those of others. but all this time, i didn’t realize how much i struggled with modesty myself.

there was a time when, unknowingly, i struggled with modesty in the traditional sense. i still cringe when i think of some of the things i wore back in my elastic skinned, belly-button pierced days, but those days are long gone. now i see, however, that modesty isn’t just an issue of sexual struggle. while that is a huge part of it, there is another aspect that has to do with judgmentalism rather than desire. my struggle now is with modesty in a humble sense.

as i have run and jiggled side-by-side with spandex wearing, sport-bra revealing, shirt-ripped-down-the sides so far why even bother, ab showing, young people, my head has been full of judgment and indignation. “don’t you know the rules? didn’t you read the clearly outlined guidelines posted at the door?” while their clothing may violate my sense of modesty, my thoughts are hardly modest either. the dictionary defines modesty as “the quality or state of being unassuming or moderate in the estimation of one’s abilities.” there has been nothing moderate or unassuming in my condemnation; no consideration of their lack of awareness or generational differences in definitions of modesty. i have been blind to the plank in my own eye while ogling the splinter in the eyes of others. how many lectures have i given my kids about looking away from explicit content in movies and tv when i have allowed myself to stare and condemn?

now look, this doesn’t mean that i am suddenly going to start mentally high-fiving those who could use a little more coverage. but two wrongs never make a right. it all goes back to that balance of self-denial (i will deny myself the right to wear leggings as pants) and self-control (i will control myself when others didn’t get the memo about leggings not being pants however self-evident that might seem to me).

i hope this is a new era in which i lift others up rather than tear them down. where i don’t objectify them as a mere body rather than love them as my sister or brother. it is that love that earns us the right to speak into one another’s lives as Christ, through His love and sacrifices, speaks so powerfully to us. maybe spring doesn’t just smell like panic and sweat after all; maybe there is a little love in the air.