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Once upon a time not so long ago, the very discussion of being naked in public could horrify even the brashest of souls.  I remember sitting in the locker room raptly listening to the story of “Steve” who was the year before duct taped to the pillar in the girl’s locker room…naked.  I watched my teammates grimace and “ooh and ahh” as my gifted peer related the narrative of “Steve’s” cries for mercy, and the entrance of the girl’s volleyball team and the subsequent roll call of students who had been suspended or expelled.  Many thought the event funny, but even the hardest of hearts felt sorry for “Steve” and secretly rejoiced that it hadn’t happened to them.

The years have rolled by and we have lost our dignity.  Now, for the sake of infamy, we film such degradations and serialize the experience on MTV or, even worse, post it on YouTube.  Many will do anything for their moment of fame (our attention spans are much too short for fifteen minutes anymore).

The unfortunate corollary to this cultural movement is the loss of awe of Jesus.  The Bible says that Jesus voluntarily released his position of eminence, his authority, the viewpoint from which the galaxies could be perused and entered into the darkness we invited to rule us when we rejected the light of God’s rule.

This upcoming weekend my friends at Main Street will begin a new series I titled “Stripped.” As we look forward to celebrating the Advent, we will count the cost of our joy.