When Adam and Eve transgressed the Lord’s command they immediately recognized that they were naughty and naked and tried to cover their guilt with some leaf briefs.

Then the eyes of both were opened, and they knew that they were naked. And they sewed fig leaves together and made themselves loincloths. (Genesis 3: 7)

Sadly, we have taken their first indiscretion to a whole new level by discarding our fig leaves and dancing around like emperors with new clothes. We have become a colony of moral nudists celebrating our sinful cellulite and it isn’t pretty. In the end, however, we can shamefully shimmy for only so long before the cruel arctic wind of consequence sends a chill up our spine. Our desire to be cool has left us cold. Shivering, we imitate our ancestors and once again try to cobble together a hedge of protection from the leaves of the Tree of the Knowledge of Good and Evil. But instead of shielding us, it gives us a cultural rash which we continue to inappropriately scratch. Embarrassed by our fashion mistake, we look up to Calvary and see millions of well-dressed men and women comfortably clothed by the foliage of one single Tree.

For we know that if the tent, which is our earthly home, is destroyed, we have a building from God, a house not made with hands, eternal in the heavens. For in this tent we groan, longing to put on our heavenly dwelling, if indeed by putting it on we may not be found naked. For while we are still in this tent, we groan, being burdened––not that we would be unclothed, but that we would be further clothed, so that what is mortal may be swallowed up by life. (2 Corinthians 5: 1-4)