the blog
Repenting of My Suit
by bruce
November 15, 2009 | Culture, Faith, House friends | 3 responses
My Dad fed me Dress for Success with my morning cereal. Barely out of pee-wee football, I could tell when someone was under-dressed for an event.
Just when I was beginning to get pimples, I was also mastering which ties were classics and acceptable (diagonal stripes, dots, and paisleys), which were fashionable but unwise (plaids, abstract shapes, and stripes in any direction other than diagonal), and which were downright poor taste (pictures of any kind).
In university, when I began to preach, I was a model “disciple” of my father’s rabbinical teaching of John Malloy’s Dress for Success philosophy. When I carried my Bible to the pulpit, I was never lacking my conservative tie, perfect suit, over-the-calf black socks, and wingtips.
After graduating from seminary, I landed in Cheonan, South Korea, as the bivocational pastor of a small international church on the campus of Korea Nazarene University. Korea is deeply conservative in professional men’s dress. Suits are the expected norm for most office workers and for every leader.
Throughout my first several years here, I regularly donned a suit and tie. I repeated to myself some of my Dad’s maxims: You only get one chance to make a first impression. What you wear determines whether people will trust what you say. It may not be fair, but this is how it is. You can work with reality or break yourself against it.
But slowly, I began to chafe under the formality. Why am I doing this? What are we trying to say with these suits and ties? Why do we put on a coat in the middle of the summer?
I read Jesus’ critique of the Pharisees and saw startling parallels between their “extra long tassels” and my own neckties. The only purpose of a necktie and a suit coat is to give the impression of a certain level of power and importance. The exact purpose of these clothes is to separate the powerful and important people from those without power or social significance. I couldn’t help judging myself and my peers as hypocrites who were trying to show off our status of power.
I also began to question the immense cost of this formal attire. Although I got most of my clothes on the cheap, I knew that many of my peers and our leaders spend thousands of dollars a year on these symbols of power. A sense of injustice grew in me. I was participating in a system of waste, excess, and self-promotion, which sucks millions of dollars from some of our most generous pockets.
I prayed. I read. I sought advice from others. On more than one occasion I stood in front of my closet with the resolution to throw out every suit and tie I owned. When our church decided to make several changes at once, changing our location and meeting time all in one move, I decided to add a wardrobe change for myself.
So it was suits on class days and semi-casual wear on church days. For another year or so, I continued to wear suits into my English classrooms at KNU. I reasoned that while I am in an official university role, I should go along with the formal Korean culture.
However, I began to feel dichotomous–like I was presenting two selves to the world. Also, my decision not to wear suits to church still did not resolve my participation in the “suit-system” during the week.
About 4 years after taking my first pastorate and committing to the daily “uniform” of pastors and professors, I purged my closet of all but two suits and a handful of ties. My wife finally voiced her opinion and talked me into wearing suits for weddings and funerals. I am still not sure how this jives with my desire to be consistent at all times. For now, I agree with her advice that some special occasions seem to call for special clothing, and further that I should avoid giving offense if at all possible.
I may not be finished making adjustments in my clothing ethics, but for me, this process of intentional dress is a key component in my discipleship of Jesus. I don’t want to impose my clothing ethic on others, and I don’t want to judge all suit-wearers as Pharisaical hypocrites. But I do believe that questioning our motives and even our cultures is a healthy practice for all of us–especially those of us who long to follow our counter cultural Messiah.
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Josh Broward is the lead pastor of KNU International English Church – a loving community that is changing our world – rooted on the campus of Korea Nazarene University. He is loving life with his wife Sarah and daughter Emma.







Right-on, brother.
Isn't this slightly throwing the baby out with the bath water? I was with you right up till you talked about not wearing a suit to work and then not wanting to wear them to weddings. Isn't there an element of wearing a suit that's just saying 'I'm taking this event seriously' and that actually is quite positive in the context of work and special events? I would have felt sad if people turned up super-casual to my wedding, because it would undermine the sense of festivity and special occasion. Isn't it quite telling that you find it hard not to judge other people who wear suits ANYWHERE? Aren't you getting a bit legalistic in the other direction?
Yep, I always have to battle legalism within myself. I always want a "new law," which will serve as the standard of judgment for me and others. And, yes, as my own morals have adjusted on this, I have had to do intentional work so as not to condemn others for making the same choices. No question about it.
However, for myself, in my own search for honesty and faithfulness, I find something fundamentally askew about trying to impress others through my clothes. I know that I can try to impress without suits and ties by having the latest fashions and such, but this is just one line I've drawn in my own sand. (By the way, like I said, I do wear suits and ties to weddings and funerals for the reasons you explained.)
The point of this Changed Minds series isn't to try to make others have the same change of mind. The point is to explain how our minds changed. This is how my mind changed.