Walk across any college campus today, and you will eventually ask yourself a question our ancestors never imagined: Is that a shirt or a cry for help? I promise I am not trying to be dramatic here. I’ve seen girls wearing outfits so small that a mosquito could file them as carry-on luggage. Some show up to class dressed like they’re headed straight to a DJ booth in Miami. Meanwhile, the boys aren’t doing much better. Half of them walk around with their pants sagging so low you can see the entire plot summary of their underwear. Put a belt on. We are trying to run a civilization, not a pajama party.
And don’t tell me it’s “just the college vibe.” I went to Target last week and saw a girl wearing something that looked like it was designed out of dental floss and wishful thinking. Target is not a nightclub. The grocery store is not a strip club. When you’re buying paper towels and frozen waffles, there should not be a risk of a wardrobe malfunction that traumatizes the entire produce section. The worst part is that no one blinks anymore. Everyone pretends this is normal because we’re all scared to be the one who says the obvious: Put a shirt on. Please. For all of us.
Church used to be the last safe zone. Not anymore. Men stroll in wearing jean shorts, T-shirts with cartoon characters on them and sneakers they cut the lawn in. Women show up in crop tops like they’re meeting Jesus for brunch at a beach resort. And I get it, God loves you as you are. But maybe you could meet Him halfway and iron something. There was a time when people understood that reverence looks like effort. Dressing up for church wasn’t about impressing other people. It was about saying, “I’m stepping into the presence of Someone greater than me.” Now, half the congregation looks like they rolled out of bed and followed the smell of free coffee.
But here’s the real reason modesty matters. It’s not just about clothes. Immodesty is a symptom of something deeper. We live in a culture that thinks attention is the same thing as worth. The more skin people show, the more likes they get and the more validation they chase. Modesty asks a different question: What do I want to be valued for? It says dignity isn’t found in how much you reveal, but in what you protect. When everything is on display, nothing feels sacred anymore.
And yes, Jesus cared about this. Scripture talks about honoring God with your body, not advertising it like a clearance rack. In Genesis, Adam and Eve covered themselves after the fall, not because God hated skin, but because shame taught them something about humility. Christians are called to be different. St. Peter even wrote that true beauty comes from “the hidden person of the heart.” That doesn’t mean dressing like a Victorian schoolteacher. It means remembering who made you. You were created by a God who gave you dignity before the world ever gave you attention.
In the end, modesty isn’t about shame. It’s about sanity. It’s about giving the world a chance to focus on your mind and character instead of your neckline. It’s about creating a culture where we respect ourselves and each other. And yes, it’s about making sure the rest of us can buy groceries without needing therapy afterward. So for your sake, for our sake, for the sake of the produce aisle and the kingdom of God… put a shirt on.
Self-written bio: Harrison Miller is a junior at Iowa State University studying political science and public relations. He writes about culture, faith and the things people stopped saying out loud.
