Track 6: Sunday Best
From The Jacked Up Life Soundtrack | Based on Chapter 6: “The Jacked Up Church”
Talk about a jacked up church in Mykonos, Greece! There’s nothing but rubble around and behind this historic door, yet its red door is still an important symbol even if this former church is nothing more than a photo op…
There’s a church tradition you may or may not know; the red door.
In centuries past, a red church door signaled sanctuary. Refuge. If you were fleeing violence or shame or danger, you could run to that door, and no one could harm you beyond it. Blood had already been spilled for you. You were safe.
Today, many red church doors remain. But the sense of sanctuary has faded. For some, church is still a place of safety, grace, and healing. But for others, far too many, it’s a place where masks are required, appearances are managed, and wounds are quietly dressed beneath layers of theology and tradition.
That tension inspired both Chapter 6 of The Jacked Up Life and an entire follow-up book, The Jacked Up Church. It dives deeper into the fractures that often go unacknowledged in our church communities. You can find that book here if you’re walking through church hurt, disillusionment, or simply asking, “Is this what it’s supposed to be?”
But today, I want to focus on Track #6: Sunday Best. It’s a piano-driven ballad that begins as a whisper and rises into a raw, honest plea.
This is the kind of song that writes itself in the church parking lot.
“You’re waiting by the old red door
Shaking hands, hugging every neck
It’s Sunday morning, but my heart’s worn thin
Smile painted, hiding what’s left unsaid…”
How many of us have walked through those doors with a storm brewing inside, only to be greeted with a “Good morning!” and a handshake that assumes everything’s fine?
We sing the songs. We recite the lines. We press the shirts, iron the skirts, scrub the sneakers. But the stains remain. Stains from Saturday night regret. Stains from midweek depression. Stains from the memory of being hurt by the very people who once prayed over us.
And we wonder if grace still has a seat for us.
The song’s chorus lays bare the struggle:
“I wore my Sunday smile over my Saturday shame
Pressed my Sunday best, but the stains remain
Can I trade my Sunday best for some Sunday real?
Take off the masks, we’re all needing to heal…”
This isn’t a call to abandon reverence or beauty in worship. It’s a cry for authenticity. For mercy over metrics. For compassion over choreography. For churches that prioritize the hurting over the polished.
It’s a confession. And a wish. A prayer that church might feel like the old red door again.
I’ve stood behind pulpits. I’ve sat in back rows. I’ve served in staff meetings and slipped out early. I’ve been prayed over, praised, gaslit, dismissed, and confused by church people more times than I can count. Maybe you have too.
But somewhere underneath the mess, I still believe the Church, capital “C,” can be something better. That it is something better when it remembers who it is: the Body of Christ, not the brand of Christ.
That’s why the outro of Sunday Best lingers:
“Let church be the place where it’s safe to be...real.”
Because if church isn’t a safe place to take off the mask, where is?
So here’s my prayer as this song plays, and as the red door behind me in this photo reminds me:
May we rebuild churches that are less about being a safe academy for our families and “put together” and more about being poured out to help people be put back together on the foundation of grace we all need to build upon.
May we be quick to listen, slow to judge, and always ready to offer that grace.
And may your Sunday, whatever shape it takes, be more real than rehearsed, more authentic than imitated.
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Sunday Best, to me, is maybe the most important track on the album; it would mean a lot to me if you would share it (or this post) with someone you think it might resonate with; sharing is a way of supporting what I do. Thank you!
Next up: Track #7 hits the Country genre hard, has one of my favorite title hooks, and opens the floodgates on striving and the struggle of seeing God’s purpose and mission in working a 9 to 5 grind (or worse) in Chapter 7, “The Jacked Up Workplace.”