The Soul Masquerade
Back in 1994, a movie titled "The Mask" graced the silver screen. It starred comedy icon, Jim Carrey, who played the character of Stanley Ipkiss. Stanley is a shy, mild-mannered, pushover of a guy who lives in a crummy apartment, drives a clunker, and works as a bank clerk. Stanley has hopes and dreams in his life, and one such dream involves the interest of his co-star, Cameron Diaz.
Oh my...
Stanley's dreams and desires of being who he really wants to be are fulfilled when he comes upon a strange mask that brings to fruition the zany, romantic side of him...
**"Cuban Pete," anyone?
Though Stanley's mask amplified his personality x1000, I'm convinced there are "masks" that we wear that do just the opposite. Our masks help conceal our dreams and desires--things that would put us at great risk of being mocked and ridiculed if they were to escape the vault of our souls. They stow away any struggles and any pain or hurt deep into the recesses of our soul, locked tight by self-will.
In past experiences, I've witnessed how the façade is brought up when a group of people are meeting for the first time. There's the "get to know you" stage of the relationships, the "who's going to share something deep first" stage, the "who's going to follow up with that" stage, and the "I see you. I hear you. I like you" stage.
Chances are you've been through these stages in your life. Maybe it was starting a new job and going to the office Christmas party for the first time. Maybe it was going to a new church and meeting community there. Maybe it was taking a weekly zumba class (do they still do those?). Whatever the case, there's lots of opportunity to grow closer and tight-knit with the community you see having the most positive impact on you.
The question is, though, will you take advantage of that opportunity? Or will you continue wearing the mask?
The longer we wear our masks, the more normal it feels to have it on. Only when we get vulnerable do our insides churn a little and our eyes search the faces of those confidants who we've just shared a little bit of our soul with to see their reactions. 'Can I trust this person? What will they think when I share this thing I've been dealing with for 3 years now comes to the surface? If they react negatively or think I'm a moron, can I ever bring myself to share this thing again?'
We tell ourselves that it's easier for masks to be worn than taken off because at least no one will see the 'real me'--the me that, if everything were shared, would make a professional counselor fidget in their seat and excuse themselves to go to the restroom just to escape how uncomfortable they are with the information that was just unloaded onto them.
But is it actually easier to wear the mask? Are we doing ourselves a service when we don't let others in and keep our struggles and pain to ourselves?
Or do we end up letting the mask wear us?
“42 They devoted themselves to the apostles’ teaching and to fellowship, to the breaking of bread and to prayer. 43 Everyone was filled with awe at the many wonders and signs performed by the apostles. 44 All the believers were together and had everything in common. 45 They sold property and possessions to give to anyone who had need. 46 Every day they continued to meet together in the temple courts. They broke bread in their homes and ate together with glad and sincere hearts,”
In the Bible, we see a community who appears mask-less. Indeed they were, but not without struggle and hardship. This was a community who experienced the work of God in their midst, but still faced the pressures of their oppressors. True, this community sold property and possessions to give to anyone who had need, but that need had to be expressed first! In other words, someone had to actually say, "Hey! Little help here? Can't do this on my own!"
I wonder if there is need in the friend groups, family members, and colleagues around us. I wonder if we've all grown accustomed to our masks. I wonder if being vulnerable enough to say, "I need help. I can't do this alone. Can you help me?" has gone like the way of Western movies: riding out into the wide, open plains never to be seen again.
How many times have we shown up to the masquerade ball, hoping that it turns into a crazy 80s-dance party where everyone throws their masks in the air and dances with reckless abandon, not caring what others think because the music is hot and we've been longing to bust out some Thriller?
Let me share a caveat and say being vulnerable enough to shed the mask and let others in is risky because you have no idea how this person is going to respond when you share with them what you're about to share. You might have a pretty good picture of what it looks like, but you can't say with certainty that you know for sure what their response will be.
But it's bound to be better than shouldering the weight of your struggle alone, right?
We've got to learn to stop applying bandages on gaping wounds that need more than a quick-fix solution. We've got to learn that inviting others in can be the healing balm.
We've got to learn that yes, the mask can certainly be comfortable.
But we've also got to learn that, ultimately, the mask has got to go. The soul masquerade must come to a close.
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