Do You Wear a Mask at Church?

And these are only the tip of the iceberg. This masquerade went on and on, until finally my feet were sore from the dance, and I buckled under the weight of the mask.

So I get it. They manifest differently these silly, true-self-concealment behaviors, but the desired outcome is the same.

You wanted approval. You were in the company of people you saw as ‘holy’ and ‘together’. I say this not with any amount of piousness, but as part of my apology. Truly. Because I’m not together! None of us in that room were!

I’m so far from holy in the sense that I know you were thinking: I’m so flawed. I’m so messed up. I do not have my life perfectly together. Today I cried because my life felt so very out of control.
I felt so very out of control.

I think I’ve just stopped talking about it openly. Of late I’ve become comfortable concealing. It wasn’t a cognitive choice. It’s just become easier that way.
Easier to appear strong.
Composed.
Together.
Whole.

Sometimes it’s easier to walk alone.
Community is hard work.
Yet I’m all about community … For you, that is.
I’m all about bearing one another’s burdens, until of course it’s my burdens, in that case I’m A-OK carrying them all by myself, thank you very much! No help needed here, I’m moving along. My baggage is more fragile than yours. Labelled: ‘Handle With Care‘ you see, and who would be more careful than me?
But hey, I’ll happily assist you with your baggage, here let me take that for you!

That’s not very fair, huh?
That kind of concealment doesn’t allow for true relationship. It doesn’t allow others to feel comfortable in sharing their stuff, the gunk that they’re scared other’s will see.
So, I’m sorry.
I’m sorry I haven’t had the courage of late to be real.
I’m sorry that I’ve become comfortable with being seen as ‘having it all together’.
I’m sorry that I gave off the impression that you couldn’t handle my baggage and wouldn’t want to.

I’m sorry that I edited my true heart emissions, and in doing so helped to create an environment that made you feel as though you too had to edit.
I’m sorry for not dropping the s-bomb that was lingering on my lips, simply because I was afraid others may be disappointed in me.

I’m sorry that I didn’t remember what it was like to be a newbie on the ‘church scene’. I’m sorry that it feels like a ‘church scene’, as if we must change sets between acts! I’m sorry that I’ve let church lingo, or ‘christianese’ seep into my vocabulary. This is not who I am, and it’s not who I want to become.

I love and value diversity.
I love that we all have a story and our journey to this point has taken different paths.
I love that the people whom Jesus loves are quirky. None of us was ever created to be mere carbon copies of what we think righteousness looks like! I want to remember this truth in every waking second.

I want to hear your story if you’ll trust me enough to tell it.
I want share your journey, if you’ll trust me enough to join you on it.
And, I want to share mine.

Here I extend my hand, the hand I ridiculously adorned in wedding rings that I no longer even like, rings that couldn’t reflect my personality any differently if they tried, and I offer this fumbling, foolish hand to you in genuine friendship.
This friendship, if you choose to accept it, will be based on authenticity, vulnerability and respect for all that makes us unique.

I’ll lead the way, and you share only if and when you’re ready. Take your time.
I promise to remember my wanna-be days and the yucky feelings that were induced when I chose to be a fraud to myself. Let’s see if we can try again. Next time we meet up, I’ll leave my mask at the door, my editing tools too. I’ll let you see the real me, warts, stupid-diamond decisions and all.

Bek Curtis is an Australian-based blogger.