The Noise About Modesty

It’s not the dress, baby.

Photo credit: Pinterest

I grew up a Deeper Lifer. If you are familiar with the denomination, you already know they have a deep, unwavering bond with the word modesty. I am pretty sure even the word itself acknowledges this kindred spirit.

Going to church as a teenager meant being surrounded by a sea of sweeping skirts and neatly wound suede scarves—each one tied with precision, as if modesty depended on it. It meant monotony in many ways. At some point, my brain must have decided the two words were interchangeable.

Modesty = Monotony

Most Sundays, as a child, I watched my mum wear printed skirts that were only distinguishable by color, paired with blouses that belonged to the same category—loose, puffy-sleeved, and tragically under-embellished. Her occasional acts of silent rebellion? A fancy pointed heel or her proper Igbo woman’s two-piece wrapper.

That is the thing. My mama was fashionable in the way she knew how to be. She loved wild colors blended in a wild way. And much later, when she left the denomination, I would come to find out she loved jewelry too. She loves accessories. I must have inherited my love for fashion from her because, for as long as I can remember, I have never been drawn to boring outfits. Not even as a child with a very limited wardrobe.

Anyway, in the way of children—and because Sundays felt like they required a uniform with a bold stamp of MODESTY—I rebelled. In my heart. I secretly fantasized about the day I would step into my glowy adult life, where I would finally have access to a wardrobe brimming with endless options that were anything but modest.

Spoiler alert: By all indications—especially the ever-growing number of bills that insist they belong to me—I am an adult. And, ironically, I am mostly drawn to what this generation considers modest. I experimented with clothing styles for sure, but somehow, I gravitated toward outfits that are flattering yet not revealing. I guess that makes me modest, right?

And that brings me to the point of this newsletter.

Modest fashion has made a comeback. You can hardly scroll two posts on Instagram without being bombarded by a beauty in a maxi skirt, hashtagging the modesty movement. Even among the less conservative, modest fashion is winning. I guess we are in the era of the modest girl.

But here is the thing—modesty is not necessarily about clothing. It is not necessarily about anything outward. If anything, it is a heart posture. A state of mind that compels self-restraint. At the core of a truly modest person is a tamed self. You can wear all the maxi skirts and long-sleeved blouses you want. You can even make an enemy of color. But without the right heart posture, it is all just a front.

And before anyone rushes to argue that modesty in fashion is a personal preference and not that deep,let me clarify that I am speaking to those who identify as Christians—those who strive to be Christ-like. To be truly modest is to be Christ-like. It is to have a heart that yearns to please Him so deeply that what spills out is speech that edifies, clothing that is unafraid to cover what should be private, and actions that do not seek validation because they already carry ABBA’s stamp of approval.

1 Peter 3:3-4 (ESV)

“Do not let your adorning be external—the braiding of hair and the putting on of gold jewelry, or the clothing you wear—but let your adorning be the hidden person of the heart with the imperishable beauty of a gentle and quiet spirit, which in God’s sight is very precious.”

Did you notice? Modesty, before it is seen, is unseen. Your adorning, before it is outward, should be inward. True modesty is the fruit of our secret walk with God. How modest you truly are is a reflection of your yieldedness to Him. To be modest is to reflect the mannerisms of Christ and, as such, to place more emphasis on the spirit than on the self.

Sometimes I remember my childhood and burst into laughter or tears, depending on the day. I am grateful for the experience, even though I sometimes wish some things had been done differently. But I see the intention, where they were going with it all, and I sigh and release resentment.

Thank God for God. He has been schooling me diligently on what it really means to know Him. On what it really means to have a heart that is yielded to Him. And what I’ve learned? What pours out from us is simply the content of our hearts.

So, you want to tame the flesh? Flush the heart. Take in only what edifies and watch yourself give the same. Garbage in, garbage out—remember?

I pray that God plants in our hearts a true hunger for Him—that we won’t only chase after modesty in dressing, but that everything that emanates from us will testify that the source we drink from is God.

With loads and loads of love,

Odinakachi Nwonu