I’ve bought my daughter the same dresses since she was two. Every year, I sell the too-small ones, and I hunt for a deal for the right-size ones. It’s a whole thing, but the colors, the comfort, the simplicity of outfit-choosing, and the twirl factor make us both happy. In a world crowded with decisions, it’s nice to think, “Tomorrow she can wear the pink dress. Or the purple. It barely matters.” Sometimes I’m jealous because I can’t seem to figure out the grown-up version of this for my closet.

But then again, even if I somehow managed to perfectly capsule my whole wardrobe, even if the “what to wear” question became as simple as “pink or purple?”,  deciding what adorns us is never as easy as all that. It’s tempting to ask dresses and denim to adorn us, but the fabric can’t bear the weight of the ask. After all, the dress doesn’t always fit—our bodies or our circumstances. If we ask the clothes to be what makes us lovely, where is our hope when the waistband starts to pinch or when we’ve shown up wearing a prom dress when everyone else is in jeans?

This is why it’s gracious of Peter to admonish women, “Do not let your adorning be external—the braiding of hair and the putting on of gold jewelry, or the clothing you wear…” This kind of adorning is a path to death, with hours spent agonizing over presentation. We know this kind of adorning, its evidence strewn across our closet floors.

Peter points women to a better adorning: “…but let your adorning be the hidden person of the heart with the imperishable beauty of a gentle and quiet spirit, which in God's sight is very precious.” Gentle and quiet are not personality traits here, but the state of the heart—resting and still and tender, safe from the violent waves of presentation. Paul wraps this concept of adorning within a passage that’s about submission for the purpose of evangelism. In a sense, we submit our striving for beauty so that the world will see the good news of the gospel.

For the Christ-follower, our adorning is not an act of presentation but an overflow of Presence that proclaims good news to a world that needs it.

This is why we have compassion for the girl who is wearing the too-short thing, the too-low-cut thing, even if she’s staring back at us in the mirror. There’s good news for her: Rest from your adorning, dear sister. Come see Christ and marvel over the miracle of how he desires to clothe you—with righteousness. Righteousness!

This is why we speak gently to the girl whose jeans no longer fit, even if she’s staring back at us in the mirror. There’s good news for her: These jeans can’t offer true beauty—no matter how they fit. They are only fabric, after all. Come see Christ and marvel over how he will clothe you—not by shoving you back into the closet to change—but by changing the inside, exchanging striving for rest.

This is why we delight in the radiant bride, who selected her dress carefully, of course—but whose restful smile knows it is not the dress that has invited the delighted gaze of her groom.

Oh how precious this beauty is to the Lord! Oh how the world needs to see it!

How profound that God would rescue us from something so seemingly silly as the perils of closet shame and make us beautiful in a new way—all for the purpose of showing the world who he is. There is no small way to magnify the Lord because if even the too-small jeans can do it. Thank you, Jesus.