I wear a mask.
It’s if for my emotional protection. Makes me feel better; safer. If I can hide bits of myself or even present my persona as someone completely different, then those who judge aren’t really judging ME. When there’s fault finding to be had, it’s aimed at the ‘made up’ me, the one I’ve created to be more likeable, more together and definitely less vulnerable; fragile. This way, I can dodge the condescension, the wounding I take right to my core. Savvy move right?
And I am quite good at it too, residing in my fabricated bubble. No wondering why though; been working on this front for close on forty years now. Some escape personal attack with busy-ness, some with achievement, others with alcohol. Me; I like my mask cause it blends in best with all the other lukewarm people who like Christ.
Yeah sure. I know this is self medicating and rooted in doubt that God loves me amazingly and does all things for my good. In my head obviously because if I believed that in my heart, there would be trust, and faith and profoundly different outcomes in my life.
But I’m pretty happy with ‘average’ anyway. Why would I want to aim for ‘more than enough’ when I’m trying to conform to this world?! With an abundant life, I would just stick out like a sore thumb and be way open to attack then. Nope. Blend I say.
And to make things even more predictable and in (my) control, I like to design and accessorise a mask for God too. Then I know what to expect and can go with the three step plan to Christianity. Tucks my life away in nice little boxes. Neat, safe …yeah maybe a bit plastic and fake.
But there’s no way my nerves could handle letting God off His leash. How on earth would I manage explaining blind faith and relationship with a God who breaths stars and makes leminin glue which keeps our dirt made bodies together. And where’s the fun of hanging around a smarty pants who has a clear perspective on how many universes there are and for heavens sake. Who really cares how many hairs I have on my head? But then there’s the relationship He would want. How messy is that? Who believes He really loves us anyway. I have been spending all my energy trying to change this mess of my life into someone my dog will like little loan procuring the love of the God of the Universe.
Nope. Better spending my life keeping my front. Besides, if I didn’t have a mask to primp, where would I place all my energy? Into enjoying Him? In my mind, I’ve created Him into a weak, box dwelling wimp anyway and what’s so enjoyable about that?
(please note that my tongue is firmly planted in my satirical cheek... mostly)