I know: Jesus says I shouldn't worry about what I wear (Matthew 5:28). But Jesus of Nazareth didn't exactly live in the style capital of the world, you know?

I confess that I worry a lot about what I wear. My wife claims that it has taken seven years of our relationship to finally get me dressing like a "New Yorker." When I arrived here for seminary, I thought I had a decent wardrobe. It turns out that I was a wreck: my pants were a waist size (or two) too big, my shirts were balloons, I didn't have the right shoes and belts to match, my ties were a disaster. I don't like to buy new clothes (I'm too cheap), so slowly, over seven years and many many trips to the thrift store, TJ Maxx, Macy's, and the outlet mall, I've put together a "respectable" wardrobe.

Still, in the morning each day it's an adventure. I will sometimes try on 3 ties before choosing one. After I leave the house, I can't help but sneak a peak in the big window of the fish restaurant at the end of my block—and inevitably it's the same: I'm just not as well dressed as I thought I was. I walk around with a very low grade anxiety about my lack of fashion sense, wishing I were more fashionable, but too thrifty to do anything about it.

But about three months ago, something changed. I'm less anxious. So... what happened?

As I walked around the city looking at how other people dress and trying to identify what I found "attractive," I realized that there is one thing a person can put on which, above all other things, will make him/her attractive:  a smile.

I'm not kidding. I'm not saying this to be cliche or cute. A smile is definitely the most attractive thing any person can wear.

So instead of focusing on my dressing, I've begun to think about my facial features—and I catch myself SO OFTEN with a furrowed brow... I call it my "NYC default expression." It's serious, no-nonsense, don't mess with me. I thought I needed this expression to get by in the city. But now, as I walk around, I'm focusing on softening my eyes (unclenching my brows and lids) and drawing the corners of my mouth ever-so-slightly upward.

It's working for me. I get smiles in return. I feel better and less anxious. I don't care what I'm wearing—as Popeye said, "I yam what I yam." I will always have a slightly dorky way of dressing. But no matter what clothes I wear, there is no place I do where I cannot wear that thing that God gave me that makes me more attractive than anything else—my own crooked smile. "Consider the lilies," indeed.