Last night, Dad came into the hospital emergency room with chest pains.

When I needed to find the ER, I spotted somebody with an official-looking name badge. I assumed people with name badges would be from the hospital. “Sorry,” she said, “I’m a visitor, too.”

I wonder how often we rely on externals to identify people.

In the course of a half dozen hours in ER, Dad was interviewed by (at least) two nurses, a physicians assistant, ER doctor, and cardiologist. Each one sported some type of uniform: Scrubs, white jackets with names stitched on the front, name badge, etc. — always something distinctly medical.

Dad gave them free access to his mind (“When did the pains start?”) and his body (“Breathe in. Breathe out. Does it hurt when I press here?”). When they entered the room, we four family members parted like the Red Sea to let them pass through. We took our cue from their uniforms.

I wonder what people assume about me, based on my externals. Not only what I wear, but what I talk about and how I say it. How I treat people. How I respond to them. How they see me respond to others. Romans 13:14 says to “put on Christ.” Am I wearing the right uniform today?