Our family’s arrival at the Roosevelt Hotel was less than graceful. Navigating the labyrinthine streets of Manhattan in a car caravan proved stressful, and we were late and flustered for my cousin’s wedding. Pulling up under the grand marquis, we hoped for a semblance of New York hospitality, perhaps some assistance with the mountain of luggage we were unloading. Instead, two uniformed figures stood watching, offering no help, not even holding the door as we wrestled our bags up the steps and into the lobby. My annoyance peaked. “They’re not getting a tip,” I muttered to my daughters-in-law, directing a pointedly unimpressed look at the unhelpful men.
Then Bethany observed, “Mom, I think they are airline pilots.”
Uniforms, as Julie often reflects in her writings on faith and daily life, are powerful identifiers. They instantly communicate affiliation and expectation. Recognizing the subtle distinctions – the difference between a hotel doorman’s attire and an airline pilot’s uniform – clarifies who they serve and what service they provide. This anecdote, shared by Julie, perfectly illustrates the concept of outward signs and inward understanding, a theme she often explores in her reflections on Christian discipleship.
Just as professions have uniforms, Julie posits that Jesus intended for His disciples to be distinctly recognizable in the world. He provided a different kind of uniform, not of fabric, but of action and attitude. “If anyone wishes to come after Me,” Jesus said, “he must deny himself, and take up his cross daily and follow Me.” This instruction, central to Christian living, begs the question: what does this metaphorical uniform look like in practice? How are followers of Christ identified?
The idea of being marked as belonging to God is not new, as Julie points out, tracing it back to the Old Testament. In Genesis 17:10, God commanded Abraham to practice circumcision, a physical sign of the covenant between God and his people. This practice, continuing through generations, was an outward marker of a special relationship. However, God desired more than just external symbols. Moses urged Israel to “Circumcise your heart,” emphasizing an inward transformation of devotion and obedience. This “uniform” of trust and allegiance to God was meant to distinguish Israel from the surrounding nations, a concept Julie often highlights in her discussions of faith and identity.
To those living in the Roman Empire, Jesus’s directive to “take up his cross” would have evoked a chillingly clear image. Crucifixion, a brutal form of Roman execution, was a stark symbol of submission and sacrifice. A condemned individual was forced to carry the crossbeam to their place of execution, a final, public act of subjugation. Therefore, when Jesus instructed his followers to take up their cross daily, as Julie elucidates, he was employing a powerful metaphor, urging a continuous state of surrender, not a singular physical act.
In the first century context, carrying a cross signified complete forfeiture – of possessions, status, and even life itself. The crossbeam was a visible declaration of Roman authority over the condemned. Julie interprets Jesus’s command to “take up [their] cross daily and follow me” as a call to a similar, though spiritual, surrender. This “uniform” is not about outward appearance but an inward posture – a daily choice to consider oneself “dead to sin and alive in Christ.” It’s a life redirected, no longer driven by self-interest but by a willingness to yield personal desires and entitlements to God’s authority. In a world often characterized by self-promotion and ego, such a “uniform,” as Julie suggests, makes a person stand out profoundly.
Christ’s call to take up our cross daily, as explored through Julie’s insightful lens, is not a one-time commitment but a continuous, evolving process. It’s a daily realignment of priorities, placing God first in our lives, enacted through countless small decisions and actions. We will stumble, we will falter, but the aspiration remains to embody the reality of being “crucified with Christ” in our daily existence. This, Julie emphasizes, is the true mark of a disciple, our identifying “uniform” to the world.
As 1 Peter 1:14-16 reminds us: “As obedient children, do not be conformed to the former lusts which were yours in your ignorance, but like the Holy One who called you, be holy yourselves also in all your behavior; because it is written, ‘You shall be holy, for I am holy.’”
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