Best Face Forward by Lorraine Triggs

In the heady days of the Jesus Movement, my church youth group and its sister youth group planned an evangelistic outreach at our high school. We publicized the event with buttons and posters and invited friends to a lunch period meeting on the football field, all in line with the school’s open campus lunch policy.

Right before lunch, the PA crackled: “The meeting on the football field has been canceled.” Turns out that my oldest sister had spent the morning in the principal’s office defending our right to meet on the football field during lunch.

The exasperated principal pointed out to my sister (who was her class valedictorian) that we were the good kids. What were we thinking? The principal sent my sister back to class. Call it the earnestness of youth, but we were surprised at the school’s reaction. The principal was right—we were the good kids, so why pick on us?

That was an early lesson in the world’s response to Christians. A while ago, a mom’s group on social media had a long thread about kids at the high school inviting their friends to—horrors—youth group. One mom complained that her son went to church and liked it. I was sad as I read this thread because some of those Christian kids are probably ones I know and love. Theirs is a harder lesson than mine regarding the world’s response to Christians.

By the time the Apostle John wrote his epistle, he was no stranger to the world’s responses as he wrote to struggling faithful believers, “Do not be surprised, brothers, when the world hates you.” (1 John 3:11) He was only echoing what he heard Jesus say, “If you were of the world, the world would love you as its own; but because you are not of the world, but I chose you out of the world, therefore the world hates you.” (John 15:19)

It's trending among Christians to zero in on the last part of this verse: “therefore the world hates you.” But to focus on that is to miss the reason why the world hates us: “because you are not of the world.” The writer of Hebrews reminds us that we are strangers and exiles on the earth headed to a city designed and built by God.

So being hated by the world should not come as a surprise. After all, as strangers and exiles, the more we set our minds on the eternal world that is and is to come, the more uncomfortable we’ll be in this world.

However, what does come as a surprise to a world that hates us is when we love them. Ray Van Neste in his commentary on 1 John on The Gospel Coalition site writes: “Love is essential to the nature of God, so one cannot be a child of God without taking on this family resemblance. Christians naturally love others just as babies naturally cry. Love is the distinguishing mark of Christians, which is why itis a terrible tragedy when the Church presents a different face to the world.”

When unbelievers look at us, may people see faces that, as the familiar hymn says, have turned to Jesus and have looked full in his wonderful face. Because it is then that the things of earth will grow strangely dim in the light of his glory and grace.

Let’s put our best face forward to the world—whether it hates us or cozies up to us—a face like Stephen’s in Acts 6:15, where “all who sat in the council saw that his face was like the face of an angel.”

Not So Amazing People: The Growing Boy by Wil Triggs

He was naturally curious. He wanted to see Jesus. He wanted to hear Jesus. And it was quite a hike out to where they were. So of course, being the growing boy that he was, he went prepared. That is, he wanted to be sure he wasn’t going to miss lunch. This thinking-ahead did not go unnoticed.

“There is a boy here who has five barley loaves and two fish, but what are they for so many?” (John 6:9)

So, when the disciples came to take his about-to-be eaten lunch, I wonder what he was thinking. The disciples didn’t know what Jesus was going to do when they approached him, so they couldn’t have said, “The Master needs to borrow your food so he can use it to feed you, us and everyone else.”

We don’t know what the disciples said when they came to take away his meal. Was there any reticence on his part to hand over his lunch to the disciples?

Children eating well is a big deal. I was a picky eater growing up. My mom told that my growth and future were contingent on my eating enough food every day. “You have to eat,” she would tell me over and over when I struggled to finish a full meal. I’m sure today’s moms and dads are equally concerned that their children eat the right food.

We need food to live. So, giving away food is a little counterintuitive.

It’s not always food that the disciples ask for. Fall ministries are starting back up. Some spots are still open for service.

Snacks in Kindergarten Bible school are Goldfish crackers and sometimes water. Imagine my telling the kids that seven goldfish crackers would feed all 40 of them, even if it’s just for a snack.

Or what about at your place of work? One person’s Bento Box to feed the whole office.

So, this growing boy had a pretty decent lunch for one, and instead of Jesus or the disciples urging him to eat as a parent would, they asked him for his food. They asked him to give it away.

In our world, this is not a normal thing to ask a kid. We develop programs to make sure kids get enough to eat.

But in the new kingdom, God asks us to give away most everything in one way or another: our time given away in service, our clothes given away to the poor, our homes opened as places of refuge in a variety of ways. Our food. What if this is the gateway to giving away even more? This is not a normal, everyday way of living.

A miracle feeding is in every gospel. I wonder if we take it for granted? Have we lost the sensation of what it must have been like to have Jesus take our packed lunch and literally make lunch for thousands of people from it?

I sometimes put my feet in the sandals of the boy. I’m thinking the disciples can have one of my fish and one of my loaves; that way I’ll give some and still have some left over for myself. But this boy gave it all and they took it all. That doesn’t seem right, not healthy, possibly to our modern minds, not even ethical. Jesus still could have done the miracle with just part of the lunch given. After all, he was multiplying food.

What self-care is there when I give away the whole lunch? I mean, isn’t that a little extreme? Out of whack? Not a responsible use of my resources?

And yet that is what Jesus does every single day of our lives. He wants all our fish and all our bread.

If we give away our time and our hearts in service to other people, what might God do? More than enough food for us, that’s what. He gave away everything, and he wants us to come as close as we can to doing the same.

All of life is better when it passes from my hands into the hands of Jesus, the one who has compassion on the hungry crowds. He knows, too, that I am one of the hungry ones. He asks me to give everything not because he doesn’t know that I need food. He knows everything. And he loves.

Lord, don’t let me be just one of the hungry multitude, even though that’s what I am. I long for your call. Choose me even now. I relax my hands. I open them. Here are my words, my time, my attention, my wife and son and home, my food and drink, my heart and soul. Take everything. Use it all as you wish. Help me to give all my fish and bread to you without reservation or hesitation.

Have mercy on me, a sinner.

And when they had eaten their fill, he told his disciples, “Gather up the leftover fragments, that nothing may be lost.” So they gathered them up and filled twelve baskets with fragments from the five barley loaves left by those who had eaten. (John 6:12-13)

The Good Old Days by Lorraine Triggs

As oxymoronic as it sounds, my own Village of Winfield has celebrated its Good Old Days for 58 years. I don’t know if there is a consensus on which of those years were better than others, but another celebration is scheduled to take place the first weekend in September. Maybe September 6 and 7 will be the new good old days.

The idiom “good old days” is subjective. It describes our personal “Golden Age” that we remember as good and pleasant and better than the present time. It’s not a negative to remember, especially as people who belong to a God who remembers and who calls us to remember.

But remember what? If it were up to my selective memory, it would only be blessings, only positive outcomes to my prayers, only the best of my life. Our confession of remembering, however, isn’t always in the context of the good old days.

In Exodus 13:3, Moses told the children of Israel to remember a day of blood from unblemished lambs on door posts, of a meal quickly eaten with belts fastened and sandals on their feet, and of a night filled with weeping and wailing. Certainly not a good old day I would want to remember, but God’s people were to remember this day because it was “this day in which you came out from Egypt, out of the house of slavery, for by a strong hand the Lord brought you out from this place.” (Exod. 13:3) This was a day not to remember because of warm fuzzy feelings but because of what God was about to do—deliver his people from Egypt. (It was when God’s people longed for the good old days in Egypt when they ate fish, cucumbers, melons, leeks, onions and garlic that they got in trouble. Although my husband can relate to anyone who longs for any food in the allium family)

When the psalmist in Psalm 42 describes his tears as food for night and day and his soul as cast down and in turmoil, he remembers. He remembers the good old days of joyful and loud worship of God, who commands his steadfast love, whose song is there in the weepy night. This is the remembering that brings hope.

Then we see Jesus on the eve of his death—breaking bread, pouring wine, giving it to friends and the betrayer, calling them to remember—not just the miracles and the teachings, and certainly not the recent round of hosannas, but to remember what he is about to do: “This is my body, which is for you. This cup is the new covenant in my blood. Do this, as often as you drink it, in remembrance of me.” (1 Corinthians 11:23-25)

His body broken, his blood spilled—this is our confession of remembering. We don’t remember in the context of our personal golden age, but we remember in community now and in hope for what is to come, now and forever, because of Jesus.

Not So Amazing People by Wil Triggs

Anyone who thinks there is no sense of humor in the Bible is denying the humanity of God’s people. We are a funny lot. Funny like odd or peculiar, or we just do things that sometimes seem a little less than perfect and it’s totally fine. But funny.

That’s a truth that certainly can’t go unnoticed by our Maker. Sure, God gets angry with us; he weeps with us. Jesus is our advocate. He intercedes. The Holy Spirit is our ever-present protector and guide.

But let’s get real. We give God things to laugh at, too. We can’t exactly do our comedy, you know, behind his back.

One of my favorite examples of this is Rhoda. I don’t think I know her quite as well as my friend Eutychus, but every time I come to her again in the Book of Acts, I think there’s a certain delight about her. Who among us does not laugh or at least snicker when we read her story?

Probably most of the people who were at the house praying for Peter heard the knock at the door, but it was Rhoda who went to open the door. Perhaps some thought they were too devout or too focused on prayers to answer. Not Rhoda. It was she who heard Peter, from the other side of the door, the living answer to their prayers, most likely asking to come in. How great is that!

Even a servant girl knew what it meant to be devoted to prayer, to be faithful. Her example to us: serve, and be faithful. And when she heard the living voice of the man for whom they had all been praying, she did not open the door but ran to tell all of the others. Such a human, funny thing to do.

I think about Rhoda at Friday’s persecuted church prayer meeting, imagining sometimes that one of the people we pray for might be set free and climb up the Commons stairs to the boardroom where we are praying. Knock. Knock. Knock.

The charge brought against one man in the Middle East was engaging in “propaganda activities against the regime through establishing a house-church.” Recently put in shackles and handcuffs, he was transferred to a prison. “Unbearable and inhumane” is the way one report describes the conditions of the prison to which he was sent. He is not the only Christian incarcerated there.

Back in 2005, a high-school biology teacher turned pastor was sent to prison inhis country—criminal activities like starting a church and engaging inevangelistic witness with students and young professionals proved too much forthe government in his African nation. His wife and children have not been allowed to visit him. His whereabouts are not known. It’s been 20 years.

A woman in Asia is serving a sentence of 13 years that began in 2017. During her trial she was accused of recruiting new members and missionary work.Damning evidence against her included possession of Christian books including Pilgrim’s Progress and Streams in the Desert.

A few weeks back, a couple came to our Friday prayer meeting for the first time. They’ve been doing a Bible study online with a group of people from another country. The government in her country arrested one of the women in their online study. She was interrogated and eventually released. For now, at least, she is safe.

But the couple was so shaken that they came to pray for her and others with us. We were delighted to welcome them. And there’s a lot to pray about. Their friend is still out of prison, her case dropped. They were shaken and relieved.

Rhoda and the others must have been equally shaken, or maybe more so. She was in a prayer meeting, a persevering intercessor, with an ear listening for anyone at the door, jumping up to answer the door, perhaps doing so in order that the others, more pious than she, might be able to continue in their prayers.

Whatever way God calls us to serve and to pray, may we willingly serve, pray and be faithful in both.

Week by week, our prayer list seems to be getting longer. The countries where people are incarcerated grow in number: people from Cambodia, China, Cuba,Eritrea, India, Iran, Kazakhstan, Morocco, North Korea, Pakistan, Vietnam. Wepray for these and others. We do our best every week, and we send out prayer requests to others who might join us in prayer even though they can’t make it to our noontime prayer meeting.

We do, on occasion, find out that someone has been released. This is a pleasant shock for us. We do not want to see their names again until heaven, when we will see their radiant faces.

We encourage one another to pray.

I love Rhoda because she is fervent in her prayers, ever the servant, responding to the knock on the door, but then getting so excited that she has to tell the others before even opening the door and letting in the Apostle they were all praying for. What other thing had she set aside to come to her prayer meeting? I can see one of our prayer meeting regulars doing the very same thing. And then she realized…

Look—it’s Leah Sharibu or Gao Zhisheng or Zafar Bhatti—people we’ve prayed for and gotten to know by name, me just getting ready to say their names out loud--and in our excitement forgetting to let the prayed-for person into the room. God is with us, using even us. Prison doors are real, but they are nothing to our God who hears our prayers for people, near and far, young and old, free and bound.

Lord, cast away the cords, burst the bonds.

When it comes to persecution, Rhoda’s interchange with Peter and the door isn’t the last laugh. We aren’t the only ones laughing.

He who sits in the heavens laughs;
the Lord holds them in derision.
Then he will speak to them in his wrath,
and terrify them in his fury, saying,
“As for me, I have set my King
on Zion, my holy hill.”
Psalm 2:4-6

If You See Something, Say Something by Lorraine Triggs

In 2018, the Department of Homeland Security (DHS) designated September 25 as National “If You See Something, Say Something” Awareness Day.

The slogan actually dates back to the day after 9/11 when the New York Metropolitan Transportation Authority trademarked the slogan and began its campaign to motivate us to be aware of suspicious activity and know how to report it to law enforcement.

Then there’s the biblical roots of the slogan.

Moses, hiding in the wilderness from Egyptian law enforcement, saw something suspicious—a bush that was burning but not consumed—and he said something when God called to him from the bush: “Here I am.” A right response when God calls.

Moses also had a right response when God revealed himself as “the God of your father, the God of Abraham, the God of Isaac, and the God of Jacob”—he hid his face and was afraid to look at God. Sometimes seeing something means not saying anything as you bow in silence before the Holy God.

In the Book of Daniel, Shadrach, Meshach and Abednego saw the over-the-top golden image King Nebuchadnezzar made and said something—no, they wouldn’t serve his gods or worship his golden image. And yes, they did see that furnace over there. Scripture is very clear that only “these three men, Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego, fell bound into the burning fiery furnace” (Daniel 3:23).

Then King Nebuchadnezzar saw something and said something: "Did we not cast three men bound into the fire?” They answered and said to the king, “True, O king.” He answered and said, “But I see four men unbound, walking in the midst of the fire, and they are not hurt; and the appearance of the fourth is like a son of the gods.” (Daniel 3:24)

It was that fourth man who prompted Nebuchadnezzar to make a declaration of the one true God: “Blessed be the God of Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego, who has sent his angel and delivered his servants, who trusted in him, and set aside the king's command, and yielded up their bodies rather than serve and worship any god except their own God.” (Daniel 3:28) Sometimes, for a glory-seeking leader, seeing something means saying something totally unexpected.

The ultimate if-you-see-something-say-something person in Scripture is John the Baptist, who saw Jesus and said, “Behold, the Lamb of God who takes away the sin of the world!” (John 1:29) And the next day, when John saw Jesus again, he said the same thing: “Behold the Lamb of God!” Sometimes seeing something, or someone, is to extend the invitation to come and see the only One who takes away our sin.

The psalmist also extends an invitation to taste and see that the Lord is good. And for those of us who have tasted and seen the Lord’s goodness, his forgiveness and loyal love, it’s our turn to say something to the poor, the crippled, the lame, the blind to come, to taste and see that the Lord is good and then sit down together at the banquet.

Not So Amazing People by Wil Triggs

As hard as it is to admit in our egalitarian world, where we like to think all things are fair, most of us have favorites. Which apostle do you most admire? Which prophet? Which Old Testament patriarch?

It’s hard for me to think of how to answer that question.

But there are a lot of people in the Bible, more or less ordinary people who, by God’s generous hand, found their lives intersecting with him, the God of the universe, but we don’t name our kids after them. Those humble people are like featured actors in a single episode of an epic movie or long television series. The story isn’t about them, but they play a small and important part in the drama.

I think that’s where most of us are in our Christian life.

One of my favorite people in this category is Eutychus.

The church was just getting started in Troas, and Eutychus clearly loved being a part of it. Being started by an Apostle probably didn’t hurt the church, though maybe it brought them a little more attention than some would have thought necessary. Eutychus loved church and, he definitely did not want to say goodbye to Paul. He wasn’t the only one. None of the church did. Paul was the dad of the church, and it was as though he was leaving them and going off to war.

In Acts 20, Eutychus probably knew that this might very well be the last time he would ever get to hear Paul preach or to see him face-to-face. It was goodbye for now, but for young Eutychus, this “now” could prove to be a very long time.

You wouldn’t skip evening service if that was what was going on, would you? Or maybe we are such creatures of habit that we would stay home.

Paul was happy to go on preaching that night, and everyone was happy to keep listening. It went on, longer than a Mahler symphony or a multi-act play with one too many soliloquies, and no matter how much Eutychus wanted to stay awake, soaking in every word, he just couldn’t keep those eyelids from going down.

The thing about falling asleep, which is what Eutychus did after midnight when Paul was still going strong, is that it’s probably not a good idea to sit by an open window, a second-story window at that.

Though some might consider falling asleep in church a sin, I do have a good amount of empathy for him. You could call Eutychus my new best friend. We have a lot in common.

Speaking as someone who has fallen asleep midsentence in a discussion with my wife, during sermons, at prayer meetings, small group gatherings, Bible studies—some of which I have been in charge even while nodding off—well, it doesn’t really matter when you’re tired because your body does what it does, I do have to say that he is an admirable fellow. He’s not Daniel or Nehemiah or David or Peter, no. He’s a minor character, but a good guy nonetheless.

The really beautiful thing is not what he does, but how God uses it. There is not resurrection without death, and in this case, there is not death without falling asleep.

It was all so matter of fact. He was dead and then he comes back to life. Then the church has a meal and stays up all night.

You don’t have to be a major player for God to do a major work in you or in others through you. And God didn’t hold falling asleep against Eutychus. He used him to tell an important part of the best story in all of history: this new thing, the church and its followers, ushering into the world something it had never before seen. If he had lived a more balanced life, staying away because he was tired or slipping out early to get home and get some rest, he would have missed out.

Not-so-amazing people like Eutychus or you or me really do matter.

We aren’t the stars of the show, but God has made us translucent. Light shines through us. If we are faithful, if we show up, the light will shine. People will notice. So even if you’re tired, go. Take the risk of falling asleep. Sometimes God does something unexpected that you won’t want to miss.

I’m not the only one who likes Eutychus. God does, too.

What happens to Eutychus stands in sharp contrast with what happens to two other players in the story of the early church—Ananias and Sapphira (A&S). Eutychus experiences resurrection after falling asleep and out of the second story window, dead. A&S are killed for what some modern people might think was a shrewd act of both generosity and deception—the ability to give to appear like people they aren’t and, in tricking other people, trick themselves into thinking they can deceive God. So, A&S lie and die, but though Eutychus dies, he lives.

The Afterlife for Flower Shoes by Lorraine Triggs

“Can regular people go the RHS Chelsea Flower Show?” I asked Wil as we watched a BritBox recording of the flower show. “What happens to the plants when the show is over?”

“If you pay and I don’t know,” was his response to my questions. We haven’t been to the Chelsea Flower Show, but now that I know I can go, I've added the event to my calendar: 2026 RHS Chelsea Show, May 19-23.

And about the plants after the show? According to the BBC Countryfile site, “Every year at 4pm on the last day of the show, a bell rings. This marks the 'great plant sell off' when exhibitors sell any plants they don't want to take home with them . . . All of the flower show gardens in the Chelsea Flower Show must have a plan to relocate, reuse or repurpose the garden after the show finishes.”

Even after applying to the Royal Horticultural Society to have a garden at the show, even after submitting documents and drawings of your design, even after spending thousands of dollars and getting a sponsor and working for about three weeks to create your garden on the grounds of the Royal Hospital Chelsea in London, all those beautiful, spectacular gardens are uprooted and gone. A bit of a letdown to the five-day flower show that is graced with a visit from royalty!

That first garden God created was even grander than Chelsea until Adam and Eve heeded some bad gardening advice. God still held out the promise of a visit from royalty. This king's visit was met more with curiosity (and a good share of animosity) than with fanfare.

We see this curiosity one day when large crowds gathered around Jesus, who began telling a story: “A sower went out to sow . . . .”  I can imagine potential Chelsea Flower Show gardeners edging closer as Jesus talked. They recognized this language of sowing and planting; what they didn’t recognize was the one telling the story nor its eternal truths.

Even his disciples needed the story explained, so Jesus did. “Hear then the parable of the sower:  When anyone hears the word of the kingdom and does not understand it, the evil one comes and snatches away what has been sown in his heart. This is what was sown along the path.  As for what was sown on rocky ground, this is the one who hears the word and immediately receives it with joy, yet he has no root in himself, but endures for a while, and when tribulation or persecution arises on account of the word, immediately he falls away. As for what was sown among thorns, this is the one who hears the word, but the cares of the world and the deceitfulness of riches choke the word, and it proves unfruitful. As for what was sown on good soil, this is the one who hears the word and understands it. He indeed bears fruit and yields, in one case a hundredfold, in another sixty, and in another thirty.”  (Matthew 13:18-23)

It's easy to stroll through beautiful gardens of the here and now with no thought of the eternal or with too many thoughts of worries and cares, and both are unfruitful pursuits. Instead, may we cultivate the wisdom from above that is “first pure, then peaceable, gentle, open to reason, full of mercy and good fruits, impartial and sincere.” (James 3:17).

May our lives overflow with abundance of fruit perfectly entwined around the Vine that gives life forever.

Sunday Best by Wil Triggs

Every summer, Lorraine and I try to visit a church or two. Doing this helps us remember what it feels like to be the newcomer at church.We do web searches for “church near me” and then check out their websites for the basics so we know for sure what time to get there and if there is anything else of note.

A lot of the churches have something on their websites about what to wear. It seems crazy. What church is going to say, “We only welcome people in dresses and suits” or “We are a jean and shorts only worship," or "We’re going for more of a youngish hip vibe.”  Clothes are a big deal, I guess.

I don’t really mind sticking out as a visitor. I want to see what the church does with us. Sometimes I do feel scrutinized by a new church as if people are wondering how well I'd fit in, if I'm "one of them." I hope we don’t do that with people either in church or outside of church because really, that's the totally wrong question. But there are some clothes that can’t be—or perhaps shouldn’t be—described on a website or captured with a smattering of photos.

These clothes can say a lot about who we are, and perhaps we shouldn't be so clueless about what we put on, and more importantly, what we're putting off.

Good morning, welcome to the church of the barbarians. Other kinds of people? You’ll have to look elsewhere for fellowship with them.

Oh, I see that the sin I love is also your sin of choice. So, in your case, yes, all are welcome, of course.

How about the church that says, “I love that shade of blue in your hatred.” Or “You’ve really done an amazing job with your one hundred percent cotton uncircumcised self-focus.”

My suit of anger, no matter how well-tailored, might be out. A blouse of wrath if it’s in the latest season cut and color, or my newly cleaned prideful polo shirt, well, I don't always feel so great when I put that on. We’ve got to get this under control.

Then there’s the silky sweater of slander with elegant obscene talk coming from high-achiever's mouth in the sweetest of tones. When we covet, even though it’s, you know, worn under all our outer garments, eventually it’s going to show. We can’t help that. A flowing dress of flattery is often applauded. Think of the lively leather coat of lies or the latest pair of jealousy jeans. These clothes are all made of natural, organic fibers. They're hard to resist. We easily embrace earthly fashions of the day.

Why do we celebrate such apparel? The world all around us does. We pretend not to, but all too often we’re just like everyone else.

But we don’t have to be.

We must get rid of those earthly clothes so admired by people everywhere. Do not save such clothes for another day or think we can keep them in our closets just in case. Don’t donate them to one of our resale shops. 

The clothes of heaven, however, are radiant when we remember to put them on.

Our church welcomes the barbarians, yes, but also the slaves and the masters, at least I hope we do. We don’t have to wait till heaven to wear the clothes of Christ. New people are like new wineskins—we are meant to hold the new and not burst with the burden of old clothes, but this is really nothing about clothes or music or age. Something completely different has come into the world.

Put on then, as God’s chosen ones, holy and beloved, compassionate hearts, kindness, humility, meekness, and patience, bearing with one another and, if one has a complaint against another, forgiving each other; as the Lord has forgiven you, so you also must forgive. And above all these put on love, which binds everything together in perfect harmony. And let the peace of Christ rule in your hearts, to which indeed you were called in one body. And be thankful. Let the word of Christ dwell in you richly, teaching and admonishing one another in all wisdom, singing psalms and hymns and spiritual songs, with thankfulness in your hearts to God. And whatever you do, in word or deed, do everything in the name of the Lord Jesus, giving thanks to God the Father through him. (Colossians 3:12-17)

This is the church we want. It's where we belong. The blessed truth is that Jesus has made these new clothes for us. He is our tailor. Each of us has clothing that fits perfectly. This is not off the rack but custom-made finery. When properly worn, others can’t help but notice. Visitors might not know what to make of it at first. Can it be real now? It seems unlikely. Even we ourselves stand amazed because this Sunday best reflects Jesus himself. Yes, I really do look good in these clothes, and so do you. Isn’t it a marvel? Fresh, original and we'll never look better.