As I was reading my devotional this morning, I came across the words “Jesus’ plans.“

Normal.

But that’s not what I read.

Instead, I read, “Jesus’ pants.”

So, naturally, I laughed.

And then I was quiet.

And I thought.

And listened.

And God spoke to me.

And this is what He said,

“Jesus wears the pants.”

We’ve all heard the phrase before.

“He wears the pants.”

“She wears the pants.”

It’s used in reference to relationships.

The person in charge, the person with the voice, the person with the power wears the, so-to-speak, pants.

And it’s usually they guy. (My dad wears the pants.)

But sometimes it’s not. (My grandma wears the pants.)

And that’s okay.

But this morning, Jesus told me that in our relationship, HE wears the pants.

HE is the man.

HE makes the rules.

HE calls the shots.

HE is in charge.

I just obey.

My role in my relationship with Jesus is to not have a role.

My role is to be that girl that is so whipped by her guy that she’ll do whatever he tells her to, whenever he tells her to do it. No questions asked. (Didn’t you always hate that girl?)

So often, I try to wear Jesus’ pants. They never fit. [They’re much to big and Godly], but I try to make them work. I put on a belt and try to tell God what I will and won’t do, and when is a good time for me to do it. I give Him my plans and ideas and propose countless conditions to His. I turn down His help because I can do things on my own. After all, I’m wearing the pants, right?

This week, I’ve been struggling extra hard with being under leadership. I hate having to ask “leaders” for permission to do things or go places. I hate having to “check in” with them. I hate that they get to know things before I do and get to do things that I don’t. I hate that they get to decide when worship is, what we have for dinner, and what we do on our free days. It’s a control thing. I hate not being in control. I hate not wearing the pants.

But just when I get frustrated, Jesus steps in and says,

“Hey. I wear the pants.”

“Don’t worry about those ‘leaders’,” He says, “They don’t fit into my pants either.”

It’s just HIM and ME.

There is really no one else in the equation.

HE makes the plans.

HE creates the rules.

HE calls the shots.

HE is the man.

HE wears the pants.