The Name on Our Hats

Every time I get my haircut, the Great Clips stylist asks if I want the back rounded or squared. And every time I let her decide. “I can’t see it; and 90% of the time, I’m wearing a hat,” I add.

As you can see, I’m into hats. I purchase a celebratory hat off my wish list when my business hits specific revenue goals. I buy hats as mnemonic devices to take me back to adventures I loved and want to be triggered to remember often. I often buy a hat in advance of a big trip to wear in the photos that’ll eventually hit social media. My hats intentionally signal companies I admire, brands to connect me with my buddies, activities I enjoy, and causes that I support.

I pay a lot of attention to the hats people wear.

Your social media feeds and mine have been filled with would-be legal scholars, parsing out whether President Trump blatantly incited the storming of the Capitol building on January 6. His lieutenants on the podium with him that day did, but they aren’t impeachable. The President’s supporters point to tweets and videos from the Commander in Chief, noting that he didn’t specifically ask the frothing crowd to storm through police barricades into the halls of our republic. He didn’t specifically tell them to wear Kevlar vests and carry zip ties for hostages into the Senate chamber. He didn’t specifically instruct anyone to build the gallows & noose that was hung across the street.

By the letter of the law, they are correct. But the men and women who injured and killed police and roamed the halls calling out, “Nancy? Where are you?” felt his permission, if not his blessing. Most of us know that in our hearts, but the evidence you need is in almost every photo courageously snapped during the rampage.

It’s on the insurrectionists’ hats.

The violent mob carried President Trump’s name on their foreheads as they burglarized and vandalized. They proudly posed for pictures with his branding above their faces. They wanted their leader and the world to see their allegiance to their hero—what they were doing in his name.

As someone who claims to follow Jesus, I think a lot about the responsibility of rep’ing for him. I might not wear a hat with his name on it, but I claim to take him with me. I’ve not stormed a federal building, but I’ve spoken in rage to and in front of people who know my association with the Messiah. I’ve not called for “heads on pikes,” but I’ve clenched my fists while talking about someone who wronged me. I’ve not flown to D.C. because of conspiracy theories, but I’ve let voices convince me of things contrary to Jesus’ transcribed statements. I’ve not bludgeoned a police officer with a blunt object, but I’ve pounced and pounded on opponents in a comments section. I’ve not carried a flag with “JESUS” on it during a deplorable coup, but there are people who will never visit my church because of emails I’ve written in between spiritual blog posts. I’ve not built a platform for executions, but I’ve suffocated humility while on stage. I’ve never worn a “Make America Great Again” hat, but I’ve asked God to make my business great again.

I don’t own a bulletproof vest or assault rifle. I can’t imagine a scenario where I’d be part of a violent mob. But I’ve worn the name of Jesus into unholy moments. In so doing, I’ve inadvertently told any observers that Jesus approves of behavior contrary to his heart. In very clear words, his biographers detailed the direction of his heart and the specificity of his mission.

God is not subject to human voting or removal from office. Jesus is not intimidated by my sin and the soil that adds to his name. He is the source of all good things. So, my daily spiritual insurrections do not threaten his kingdom, his sovereignty, or even his affection. But every time I see one of those January 6 photos, I’ll be reminded that he can get blamed for my choices.

Hopefully, those reminders will change my behavior. If not, I hope they at least spur me to remove my hat before I charge into thoughts, words, and actions outside of his clear instructions.