The Lost Art of “Sunday Best”

From the archives:

Somewhere along the way, we lost something.

For many years, it was common for folks—no matter their income or status—to have a portion of their wardrobe set aside for Sundays.

They had their everyday clothes, their work clothes, and their Sunday best.

It didn’t mean designer labels or expensive shoes.

It meant intentionality.

Effort.

Respect.

Men would shine their shoes and press their collars.

Women would curl their hair, pull out their neatest dress, and straighten their children’s bows.

Even the poorest families made an effort to look different when they walked into the house of God.

They believed the place where God’s Word was preached was worthy of their best.

Not to impress others.

Not for vanity.

But as a way of saying—this is sacred ground.

This wasn’t about rules.

It was about reverence.

Now we live in a world where convenience often trumps care.

Athleisure and hoodies walk right through the sanctuary doors.

Ball caps stay on young men’s heads during the opening prayer.

And it’s not shocking anymore.

It’s just normal.

We dress for church the same way we dress to run errands.

The idea of preparing ourselves—body and soul—for Sunday morning has become a relic of the past.

And it’s a shame.

This isn’t about legalism.

This isn’t about putting burdens on people who don’t know better.

If someone comes in, new to church in jeans and a T-shirt, we should cast no judgement—we should open our arms wide.

But for the seasoned Christian— those who’ve been in church a long time—shouldn’t we still treat this time and space as something set apart?

We dress up for weddings.

For funerals.

For theatre shows and job interviews.

We wouldn’t dream of walking into a dinner gala or a courthouse without preparing our appearance.

But when it’s time to worship the Lord—when it’s time to hear the eternal Word, to sit under the preached Gospel, to sing praises to the King of Kings—we toss on whatever’s comfortable and call it good enough.

I’m not suggesting church should enforce a dress code.

I’m not advocating for judgment or prideful inspection of others.

What I am suggesting is that we return to the heart behind Sunday best.

That we teach our children that this day is not like the others.

That meeting with the Lord and His people is worth effort.

Worth setting something apart.

That we begin, quietly and humbly, to treat the Lord’s Day as sacred again.

There were seasons in our life where we didn’t have much.

Most of our children’s clothes came secondhand—thrift store finds, hand-me-downs from church friends.

But I always made it a point to find their Sunday clothes early in the week. I’d wash them, iron them, and lay them out the night before.

We had one pair of dress shoes per child, and they knew where they were.

Ribbons were pressed and tied, pants were creased, and shirts were buttoned straight.

And yes, I ironed.

I know it’s a fading skill, but there’s something to be said for learning how to take care of what you have.

Clean it.

Press it.

Set it apart.

If you don’t know how—there are tutorials online.

It’s a small thing, but it carries weight.

“Give unto the Lord the glory due unto his name: bring an offering, and come before him: worship the Lord in the beauty of holiness.”

(1 Chronicles 16:29, KJV)

That verse isn’t about clothing, but the principle applies.

Worship the Lord in the beauty of holiness.

There is something beautiful about giving our best—about adorning ourselves with humility, reverence, and care as we prepare to enter the place where God’s presence meets with His people.

I don’t write this to shame anyone.

I write it as a gentle challenge—to those of us who have been walking with the Lord long enough to remember how it used to be.

And to those just beginning—to plant a seed of reverence.

Let your Sunday mornings be different.

Not frantic, not thrown together.

But sacred. Set apart. Special.

Let your family see that you’re not dressing up for the eyes of man—but for the Lord who saved you.

Let your children learn that going to church isn’t just something we do, it’s something we prepare for.

Let your appearance reflect the reverence in your heart, not the trends of a culture that has forgotten what sacred means.

Let your best be for Him.

“And whatsoever ye do, do it heartily, as to the Lord, and not unto men.”

(Colossians 3:23, KJV)

We’ve lost something simple and beautiful.

But we can bring it back.

And maybe, just maybe, it starts with ironing a shirt.

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