Removing the Mask

Are you being yourself? The real you? Authentically? Is that too blunt a way to start a post?

Not too long ago, we were playing games with a group of friends and I found myself getting agitated over something I couldn’t quite put my finger on. We were hosting so I thought it was maybe just me trying to host perfectly, be the best kind of host…something I’m not great at. I tried to ignore it but I felt it creeping into my responses and causing a pause in my mind. I didn’t figure it out until a few days later.

I’m still learning this walk-with-emotions thing. In some ways I am ashamed that I am dealing with emotional control…I’m not a teenager. I’m also learning to be honest with myself. If I’m telling the truth…that’s where I’m at. How can there be shame in being in a place on a journey? I wouldn’t shame anyone else for the same thing. Imperfect pieces add to the beauty of life. There is no shame in the way your life comes together; just beauty in redemption.  It’s not which order those pieces appear that gives them value—it’s the walking through them… the adding.

Truthfully, the fog began creeping over me when I was in my late teens. It was the only thing I knew. How could I understand the process of sorting emotions in a healthy way?

We are always learning, always growing, always changing. Always failing. We all learned to walk without guilt for falling down while we learned. Where did we decide that every stumble declares the truth of who we are?

Days later I started to dig into this reaction of mine. The truth of it settled instantly deep and resonated painfully. I was uncomfortable not because I was hosting, but because I was hosting people from different parts of my life. As much as I didn’t care to admit it, I am a little different around each of them. Different parts of me hidden; strict control. That night, trying to rapidly switch “masks” got tiring and I was judging my performance. I wanted to have the perfect setting, the perfect amount of food, the perfect amount of fun for each person. Be the perfect host for each. But I couldn’t do that in the way I had before…change personalities in a group setting? Someone would have noticed the facade.

Here’s a painful truth…living inauthentically is a lie and undermines relationship.

Ouch.

Yes. He can redeem that too.

When did we first decide that in order to be “enough” we had to fit into the mold of someone else? I don’t even remember a time when I didn’t.

When we are trying to be someone else we feel it.  It doesn’t feel right, look right, or work out.

There is no freedom in inauthenticity. 

A few days ago at dinnertime, my son went to the kitchen looked around and quickly came back out.

“So…what’s for dinner?” he asked cautiously. I’ve been known to get cranky after this question has been asked by everyone in the house when I don’t know the answer.

“Everything on the counter, chicken, green beans, potatoes, cranberries and the breadsticks on the oven.”

“Okay…but what about the potatoes?”

“What about them?”

“Are they actually potatoes?”

“Yes.”

“Awesome!!” he yelled as he ran back into the kitchen.

We like our potato dishes but they don’t always like us, so we have tried a few potato substitutes.

My son has more than once thought I made real mashed potatoes and found out that it was actually a cauliflower version. Not bad, but not authentic. He wanted the real thing and didn’t want repeat the mistake of filling his mouth with NOT the real thing.

I don’t want to either. I especially don’t want to be fake; insincere. The risk is that being myself leaves me open to being hurt; being rejected for who I am. If someone rejects the mask I wear, I can discard it and find a new one. If I’m not wearing one…Well there it is. Insecurity and fear all in one half-sentence.

“Lord, I confess I haven’t been authentic. More than just relating to people and connecting; I have purposefully hidden parts of me that I assumed weren’t acceptable to the people around me. I have been hiding part of the picture of who I am even to myself. But you see me. Completely. The good and the bad. The parts I’m ashamed of and the parts I wish just didn’t exist. You see. And you forgive me anyway. Lord forgive me. But teach me to live authentically, free from the expectations of myself and others. Trusting only in you. Trusting that you created me as I am for purpose and for Your glory. I’m giving up these masks. Every mold, every expectation. I’m going to trust you to protect me rather than build a wall for my protection. I also choose to forgive myself for picking these masks and molds up. For agreeing with the idea that I am only as good as the mold I force myself into. For binding myself with chains of expectation and for speaking death over my heart, mind, and body by being negative and cruel. I give you my shame too Lord. Thank you for your redemption and grace. Show me the depth of your love for me. Clothe me in your forgiveness and love. In Jesus Name, Amen”

(Oh Child, it is all part of the journey. Part of the chains being released; the binding of this world falling away. It isn’t about the shame. Don’t look down, look up. I love you tenderly, dearly, and completely. You will never understand the depth, but look into my eyes and be drawn close. Just come close and let these burdens melt away. Let them fall, let them break and shatter. You don’t need to do anything but come near and rest.)

The more I lean into Him the warmer I feel. The images of a child running to her father for comfort come to me; bring tears, always tears. They cleanse the soul. Water to flush the pain of emotions too big for the moment. I see too a thing covered in hardened clay and each time I surrender to Him he cracks a little more off. I can start to see the light escaping from beneath the mess and dried mud. Each piece falls off after an encounter with the perfect Father. My creator. It is a slow process, and painful too…but beautiful.

 

The more parts of me that are broken, the more I get to experience His wholeness. There is a lot of broken in me. A lot that doesn’t look quite as authentic as it is.

No shame here friend. Just a journey. Just us broken clay figures bumping through things until we ask Him to chip away at the disguise and reveal the light underneath. Live awkwardly, stumble and laugh. Be a mess, say the wrong thing because you didn’t take the time to over-analyze. Live with the freedom of Grace–not as a license to get away with anything, but in knowing that if we stumble it will be okay.

Show your crazy self, live fully alive and walking in love. It’s tricky, scary even. Walk with me?