The Social Media Mask

We’ve spent the last month talking about the masks we wear.  October seemed like a good time to have that conversation as masks and costumes, dark things and scary things, carved pumpkins and ghostly images take over the world we see all around us.  As we finish up this month of masked conversations, I have to admit my heart weighs heavy.  I have avoided active references to Halloween simply because it can be so divisive in church world, as the weeks have passed we have come closer and closer to election day and the noise on both sides has become louder, I have avoided the issues of politics and beliefs.  And then again there is COVID, with its daily numbers and stats and the dividing lines drawn up on either side of this battleground. 

I am blessed that I have friends in every walk of life, I am blessed to have social connections from people from each end of every spectrum.  I am blessed that many of these people, when engaged in a direct, face to face conversation are able to hear and understand my heart, and help me challenge my thinking when I am too close-minded. 

However, I am also saddened that we live in a world where what we post publicly and indirectly is often unfiltered.   A world of social media, where we say things online, that even if we were to say them in person, would be said differently.  A world where those who don’t agree with us are labeled and called names and insulted.  A world where two people who love Jesus, worship together on Sunday, pray together for common causes, can tear each other down publicly.  Somehow, social media has provided a new mask, a mask of arrogance and pride and self-righteousness.

At the beginning of the COVID lockdowns, I refused to take a side on how serious or political this virus was.  The truth is, I don’t know.  But I challenged us as believers, to ask ourselves what people will see, and learn and believe about Jesus because of our words and actions.  So today, I ask a similar question….

What does the world think of your God when your heart, your tenderness, your humility is hidden by the masks of pride, arrogance, and self-righteousness.  Does a hurting and broken world see Jesus’ love in the public face you have created.  I’m not talking about lukewarm Christianity, I not talking about compromising truth, I’m certainly not talking about watering down our convictions, I am talking about asking honest questions, walking in humility, being willing to listen to another person’s story and experience the world from their view.  In the end, I’m talking about truly balancing truth and grace.

Today I want to challenge you to take a hard look at your public social media image.  When someone reads your facebook posts, or your Instagram stories, or your linked in profile, who will they see.  For years’ now, pastors have said (usually in a message on giving) “if you want to know where your heart is, look to where your money is.”  I’d like to similarly challenge you, if you want to know how you represent Jesus to the world around you, look to your profile pages.  What do you see?

“By this everyone will know that you are my disciple, if you love one another.” – John 13:35

 

“You are more than the choices that you’ve made, You are more than the sum of your past mistakes, You are more than the problems you create…”  those lyrics!!!  From the song “You are more,” by Tenth Avenue North, those lyrics have always found fertile ground in my heart.

I have made mistakes.  So many mistakes.  I have made mistakes as a daughter, a sister, a mother, a wife, and as a friend.  I have failed as a leader and failed as a Christian.  I have failed as a volunteer and as an employee.  I have failed myself.  But that is not the end of my story.

I recently read a blog post where the writer wrote that “I am not my past mistakes.”  While I understand the intentions of that post and that wording, I struggled with it.  Because deep down, I know that I am.  Every failure has defined me in some way.  Every hurt I have caused or have received has etched a memory on my heart.  Every one of those moments influences the decisions I make today.  So, I am the sum of my past mistakes, but the notable difference between the blog post and the song lyrics is the word “more.”

You see, I am the sum of my failures, but I am also more.  I have learned from those mistakes.  I have taken those failures and learned to do something different.  I learned how to do it better, act slower, think more, and pray more. I learned to support better, to walk in more humility, to serve better and to love better.  I learned to apologize better and own my mistakes sooner, and when everything felt broken and beyond repair, I learned to let Jesus’ truth be the loudest truth, not the voices of accusation around me.

In this series of posts about laying down the masks we wear, the most difficult to lay down are the masks that cover our failures, that conceal our broken places, our mistakes, and our doubts. The truth is we all fail, the trick is in failing forward.  Learning from our mistakes, changing the way we do it next time, humbling ourselves and asking for forgiveness, and learning how to forgive ourselves regardless of the others’ response.  When we hide our failure we also hide God’s glory; we hide the beauty of restoration, grace, forgiveness, and unconditional love.

This week, as you walk into the next hard conversation, the next hard decision, the next mess to clean up or plans to change, would you ask Jesus what masks you need to lay down?  Do you need to apologize to someone or own a mistake?  Do you need to admit you don’t know and humbly ask Jesus into the situation?  Do you need to set down fear of failure, and pride and self-image in order to allow the beauty of God’s restoration and peace to shine in your circumstance?

We teach and preach a message of a loving God.  A God who forgives and saves.  A God who restores and heals. This week, can you allow that reflection of God to be seen in your life? 

‘Cause this is not about what you’ve done,
But what’s been done for you.
This is not about where you’ve been,
But where your brokenness brings you to
This is not about what you feel,
But what He felt to forgive you,
And what He felt to make you loved.
You are more than the choices that you’ve made,
You are more than the sum of your past mistakes,
You are more than the problems you create,
You’ve been remade.

 – “You Are More,” Tenth Avenue North

Removing the Mask


We are spending the month of October talking about the masks we wear.  As women in ministry there are many times that the mask feels more welcome than the reality.  Certainly, there are times that confidence, strength, and stability are needed from us, as well as time that silliness and cheerleading and encouragement are called for.  But as we talk about taking off the mask, looking at the real us, you know deep in your heart I’m not referring to a moment where strength is needed, I’m talking about a mask that hides the real issues, the real you; for minutes, hours, weeks, months, years.

I have spent much of my life in hiding.  As a child I hid uncertainty and not knowing, often falling or failing because I was afraid to ask for help.  As a teenager I hid intelligence and hurt, trying hard to fit in and not be too much.  As a young adult these things blended into this mask of having it all together, independence and strength.  In my thirties these masks had blended with what and who I thought my church wanted me to be and so the masks of humility and service and wisdom layered over the existing masks.  There comes a point when all the masks we are wearing weigh heavy on our lives, our relationships, even our souls.

I was in my thirties, a mother of 4, serving in my church, volunteering at the school, maintaining a house, working, and oh so very tired.  On the surface, I had everything I had said I wanted, marriage, family, friends, home, stability.  And yet very few people really knew me, how could they, I didn’t really know me.

And then a new journey began.  A journey to discover who I was under all the masks.  A journey to walk thru all the things I thought were true of me.  A journey to unravel the layers of protection and hiding I had surrounded myself with.  Grace extended to the little girl who was so afraid to be wrong and look stupid.  Tears shed for the lonely teenager, surrounded by people but always feeling on the outside.  Compassion for the young wife who made a lot of mistakes.  Mercy given for the young mother who placed far too much emphasis on how her children made her look and feel.  Peace offered for the school volunteer who’s drive and need to come through often pushed her to exhaustion.  Kindness extended to the church volunteer and eventually staff member who stepped on toes or said the wrong thing. 

 

 

 

It didn’t happen overnight.  It included a few studies, and a season of sitting in a counselor’s office.  A season of identifying, at times painfully, who my real friends are, and walking into dark places.  A season of looking back on the lies of the enemy and inviting Jesus to show me His truth in those places.  And while dark places, those corners of your memory and your heart you wish you could pretend never existed, are not generally fun places to return to, something amazing happens as you begin to shine line into those corners.  Suddenly the corners are less dark, the shadows less scary.  Ironically enough, darkness only exists in darkness, the moment you shine light on it, it begins to lose it’s hold.  With each layer of masks that Jesus asked me to remove, I found beauty, beauty where I had always only thought to cover up brokenness. 

 

 

 

There is beauty in brokenness, strength in vulnerability, wisdom in knowing you don’t know everything, freedom in owning mistakes, joy in silliness, hope in failing, and rest in stopping. As you move into this next week, are there masks He is asking you to lay down?  He is gentle, He won’t tear them from you and He won’t ask to you to just pull them all off at once, but piece by piece, as you lay them at His feet, He will walk with you to heal the broken places you have covered up, to trade beauty for ashes, and to shine light in the darkness.

 

 

Uniquely You


October feels like a good time to talk about masks.  Not the facemasks our season of COVID has required, but rather the kind we hide behind.  The masks of strength and courage, masks of busyness and happiness, masks of vanity and appearance, and even sometimes masks of faith.  But probably the most commonly worn mask is the mask of conformity… the one you put on to fit in.  To sound right, to look right, to think right, and to feel right.

So today, my friend Peni, has a message to all of us square pegs trying to fit into round holes.  Yes, we all have rough edges that need smoothing, but maybe, just maybe, you aren’t meant to round off all your sharp edges, maybe those edges are meant to leave a mark.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


Prickly Fuzzy

Have you ever felt like you don’t fit anywhere? You see the world through a lens of how things can be done better or differently and so people think you’re negative? That has been the story of my life. As long as I can remember people have called me weird. I do things my own way. I was oft referred to as a prickly fuzzy; (prickly on the outside, but if you hang in there all fuzzy and soft on the inside.)

            As with most people I learned to fake being the right kind of person to get a job done. I worked on a church staff, as a volunteer first and then as a part of the staff. I did poorly in relating to my teammates. I made a mistake and was completely myself. I did not wear a mask or soften any of my edges. People liked me or they didn’t. I thought church staff was a safe place to be. I forgot that no one is a saint, and everyone has baggage. I made efforts to repair damage but when those failed, I became angry and jaded. The uplifting quotes, beautiful songs, devotionals and studies that everyone around me raved about didn’t do anything for me. The rah rah culture was uncomfortable and foreign to me. I just wanted to do my job and be left alone, unfortunately for me, my church was highly relational. In retrospect, they taught me things about relationship and I am grateful.

I still don’t fit. I’m aloof and blunt. I’m okay with it. As a woman, many of the things in this world that are supposed to appeal to me because they appeal to lots of women…they do not. God has gifted me with an eye for the unusual, the outcast, the different. He has also used my weirdness to be able to see both sides of most things because I’m not overly involved, and I don’t get wrapped up in the emotional aspects of things. Please know that I have spent most of my life thinking that God forgot to give me a piece when he was putting me together. He has led me to know that I’m not supposed to fit. He made me that way.

I saw a bumper sticker one day and it said “Somewhere between Proverbs 31 and Tupac, there’s me” I laughed and thanked God for its timeliness in reminding me of how much He cares for me and I could rest in that moment. Philippians 4:6.

“Always be a first-rate version of yourself and not a second-rate version of someone else.”                                                                                                                                            -Judy Garland