Chosen, Equipped, and Attired
Several years ago, I underwent a long audition process in an attempt to become a Universal Studios studio guide. Each step of the way, the people in charge had to choose me. It started with an open call alongside hundreds of other hopefuls. Once I made it past multiple rounds, I was then invited into the final phase: the studio guide training class.
Along with my invitation, the studio gave me a script. It was a large blue three-ring binder emblazoned with the Universal Studios logo containing over a hundred glorious pages. I treasured it and pored over it on my journey to memorizing every word.
Then came several weeks of intense training and testing with fellow members of the class: learning the history of the studio and its films; exploring the layout of the lot; mastering the technology of the tour tram microphone and video clip system; acquiring tons of dos and don’ts and if this, then thats; safety training; written testing; verbal testing; practice runs…
We went through more rounds of cuts along the way. The training class of twenty whittled down to eight. Then came the day of our final audition: conducting a tram tour. On board were the trainers, managers, and other studio representatives watching and judging our every move.
We were later informed individually whether or not we were chosen. Only four of us made it. What a journey. I had been named an official Universal Studios studio guide.
After I was chosen, I was told by the bosses who chose me to remember and trust what I had learned. Then they issued me several things I would need to be able to do the job. Things only the chosen received. Things that I found precious and dear and an honor to receive: my official studio guide name tag; my studio lot ID/security access badge; and my beautiful black studio guide uniform (eep!). They instructed me that I had to wear all these things at all times so that I could do my job.
Everything was a package deal; one wouldn’t work without the others. I could be able to spew off every movie fact and command the tram microphone with zeal and pizzazz and intrigue, but if I didn’t wear my uniform, name tag, and studio lot ID/security access badge, I would not be able to make it down to the tram to do the tour. I’d have been stopped at the studio entrance—and forcibly removed—if I tried to walk through, arrogantly thinking I could go anywhere I wanted, when and how I wanted just because I technically was a studio guide with full access to the lot. Without the proper garb, I didn’t stand a chance. And I wouldn’t be able to fulfill my purpose.
On the flip, if I showed up wearing my uniform, name tag, and security badge and got all the way to my tram, loaded with hundreds of people staring at me, yet I didn’t have the words of my script known by heart, I wouldn’t be able to do the tour. I could try to wing it on my own using whatever came to mind, but it wouldn’t take me far—certainly not enough to last the 90 plus minutes of the tour of an ever-changing working studio lot. Words like cold sweat, mutiny, and eaten alive come to mind. I would not represent well the studio I was chosen to represent.
However, when I cloaked myself in everything the studio had given me—title, uniform, name tag, security badge, words, training—then I could be successful and complete my job with confidence. I followed their commands because I respected them and I valued how much it cost to get to that point. I valued that I had been chosen and equipped. And I wanted to do it well. I wanted to do what it took to do the thing and to be able to keep doing the thing.
This all came to my mind recently when I read the book of Ephesians. “Finally, be strong in the Lord and in his mighty power. Put on the full armor of God, so that you can take your stand against the devil’s schemes…Put on the full armor of God, so that when the day of evil comes, you may be able to stand your ground, and after you have done everything, to stand” (Ephesians 6:10-13, NIV). These words come as the final part of a long list of instructions for Christian living. This is a command (repeated twice) for those of us who have been chosen by God to be His people. It is not a suggestion nor a tip. Put on the full armor of God.
We are in a battle. If we’re not properly equipped and attired, we will get crushed and we will be useless and we will fail. Trying to do life in our own way and in our own power smacks of stubbornness, arrogance, and ignorance. We don’t know what is ahead of us. God does. We don’t see what is all around us. God does. And He desires to protect us. “Christ feeds and cares for us, His body,” (Ephesians 5:29-30, NIV).
Like my name tag, ID badge, uniform, training, and script did for me as a studio guide, the full armor of God gains us access to where we need and want to be to do what we are called to do in this life as chosen disciples of Jesus Christ. And it enables us to succeed and survive. Let us not shirk it.
What a privilege it is to inhabit—indeed, to even be able to have access to—the full armor of God Himself. Who are we to be invited to such an honor?
Destiny Teasley lives in Nevada, where she is a lover of the arts, pop culture, and travel (you'll often find her daydreaming about being in Israel or Disneyland). She delights in encountering beauty in the world and helping others to see and celebrate it for themselves. Destiny studied at Baylor, UNLV, Oxford, and Dallas Theological Seminary. You can find more of her writing at her blog,whentherockscryout.com .