#232. The magical power of denim.

Here's how some of my conversations with friends that attend other churches end up going:

Me:
"What's your church like? I mean is it contemporary or traditional or kind of in between?"

Friend:
"It's hard to say, we sing hymns once in a while but the pastor wears jeans."

Me:
"Well dungarees are the universal sign of church relevance. But what kind are they?"

Friend:
"They look like Bugle Boy but I think they stopped selling those and Z-Cavaricci's when the store Chess King went out of business. Maybe they're Eddie Bauer. Regardless, they're old fashion. But the worship leader wears something like 'paper denim' or 7 or some kind of hip brand."

Me:
"Nice, hopefully there's some visible stitching in odd places you wouldn't expect it and a design on the back pockets. I've even seen some rockers wearing ladies jeans. I just don't trust a worship leader in pleated khakis. It's one of the rules I live by and thus far it's served me well."

Now clearly, I exaggerated a little there. I don't care what kind of pants you're wearing as a worship leader as long as you have something covering the southern hemisphere of your body. (That line is going to hurt my readership in the nudist communities that read SCL.) But you have to admit, we place an incredible amount of power in denim.

I don't think this is just a church thing though. Right now I am wearing jeans because it's "casual Friday," which is business speak for "you can wear jeans."

The whole thing is kind of silly. I mean, "Can I wear jeans" is one of the first questions I ask about new churches and I know there are some staff out there that think, "Why does this community not find us relevant? We're wearing jeans up on stage. Jeans!" Hopefully in the near future we'll be able to wear Velvet instead of denim, because I, like George Costanza from Seinfeld, would be draped in it every single hour of the day if it were sociably acceptable.