Tired and famished, my friend Lori and I turned into the Texas Roadhouse parking lot to grab a quick lunch. It was closed. However, the place next door was open and the parking lot filled.
Lots of cars equals good food. Right? We agreed a burger or barbeque sounded great, so we parked and went inside.
The waitress who greeted us couldn’t have been a day past high school graduation and wasn’t wearing much. Should-a been our first clue. But we resumed chatting about the weighty matters of the world while waiting for an open table.
When she ushered us to a table, we realized something we should-a noticed before. Besides the waitresses—all very, very scantily clad—Lori and I were the only women in the place. Second clue.
Our idea of weighty matters of the world took on a whole new dynamic.
I gasped for air and breathed, “Oh Lord, what now? Stay or flee? Which would attract more attention?”
Whether a good or a bad decision, we sat down and ordered a burger.
Multiple TV screens hung around the top of the room flashing pictures of these little feminine replicas of Daisy Mae. And let me tell you, that cartoon country gal was dressed for winter compared to these precious girl-children. The mother in me screamed, “Does your mama know where you are and what you’re doing? Get out-a-here.”
And none of them could have been a day over twenty. I was embarrassed for them, for myself, for my friend, and yes, even for the men making idiots of themselves. Men of all ages, cultures and dress—from business men to cowboys—from Marines to construction workers.
Lori groaned and stared into her water glass, “I don’t know where to fix my eyes.”
“On the food when it comes,” I instructed, “… and eat…fast.”
The burgers and onion rings were great, but following my own advice, I gulped them down and my digestive system rebelled.
We ate fast and left faster.
One man exited the restaurant behind us and made a point of commenting that tomorrow would be A.B.C. Day, Anything But Clothes Day. He said the line to get in would extend around the building by 9 A.M. In broad daylight.
But the real shock to my system was the memory of these young women sashaying about in little but their imaginations, gaudy belly-button jewelry, and cowgirl boots— trailed by the unveiled lust of men—numerous men—leering at them.
Why would these girls be willing to trade God’s promises of blessings to those who are pure in heart for a meager salary and smutty attention from men? Where had they found the brazen ability to make themselves the object of gawking stares and lewd advances? Somebody’s daughters, sisters, friends. Do you care? Does anyone care?
How did we get here?
Parents, do we bear any blame for this ghastly display? Could we be responsible? Have we encouraged our children—boys and girls—to embrace this behavior and call it good?
Mom, could we be desensitizing our little girls by placing them in that first bikini? At age 3? Maybe 5? Training them through the years that it’s okay to expose as much skin as they dare? Is this immoral immodesty one of the consequences of the absence of the Word of God? Or direct opposition to it?
And Dad, lest you say “It’s her mother’s fault. She buys the stuff.” Don’t you realize, whether you believe it or not, you will stand before God, to give an account of your actions protecting the safety and well-being of each member of your family? You are required as the God-appointed head of your family to see and say NO to present and future dangers.
I’m not suggesting a return to the behavior and dress of the 1800’s. But where do we draw the line? How much is too much and how little is too little? We’ve turned our back on modesty and plunged head first into the cesspool of provocation and shame. And, there’s not much difference in behavior and dress inside and outside the church.
The truth is we are here.
But the urgent question is: Do you have the courage to seek to know what God says about this issue and then stand for His revealed truth?
What do you think? Are you living in a houseful of teens who want “to be like their friends?” Let’s discuss this.
Next week, Part Two In The Way They Should Go, we’ll explore what we all have allowed our children to witness and participate in. Is it too late to shut the barn door?
MOVING THE ANCIENT BOUNDARIES 