Unmasked.

This summer has definitely been a season of growth - a season of lessons learned. One of the biggest lessons I’ve been learning is what it truly is to live a genuine life. This isn’t to say that prior to this summer I had been living under a false identity, or that my whole life up this point has all been a lie. Nope. But, in living my day-to-day life, and in relating to people, I do tend to keep certain truths about myself and the way I feel inside. I think many of us in the Church do. This isn’t necessarily a bad thing; however, I think it’s gotten to the point where, most of the time, we aren’t aware that we are holding back and bottling emotions within us. This can be dangerous.

Genuineness, in my mind, means to be open, honest, and vulnerable. Sure, it can be pretty easy to be honest in our general everyday life, so long as we aren’t in the Witness Protection Program or anything. However, I’ve noticed that when it comes to specifics, we often respond with the bare minimum. We live behind masks. Take, for example, the case of, “I’m fine.” How often do we resort to this response when people ask us how we are? And how often are we actually fine? Do we even really think about this question anymore, or do we just answer it on auto-pilot? ‘Cause I am here to tell you – hardly ever am I “fine.” I am doing quite well, thank you, or I am overwhelmed with tests and projects, or I’ve gone through something really tough this week, or, in the case of this past week, I am feeling a bit burned out, but I just finished my summer classes, so really, I am over the moon! I’m not fine.

My friend Meg is a great vehicle of genuineness, in regards to the above. At the beginning of this year, Meg felt that God was calling her to stop bottling anxiety, stress, and emotions inside. So, she started practicing honesty – even in situations that she used to think of as uncomfortable. Countless times I watched people asked Meg how she was doing; I watched as she replied, “I’m doing fine”, and started to walk away. And, countless times, I watched as Meg turned back around and said, “You know what? I wasn’t honest with you just then. I’m really not fine at all…” and briefly explained how she really felt. I know I’m not the only person who was comforted and challenged by her honest witness.

Recently, I was watching an episode of Life, when part of the on-screen conversation grabbed my attention:

“I do that, too.”
“What?”
“Tell a complete stranger the absolute truth.”

This exchange stuck out to me because I readily identified with it. There are times when I’m scared to admit my day-to-day weaknesses to my friends, let alone my fears, hopes, and life’s biggest dreams. But when seated next to a stranger on an airplane, or passing an unfamiliar face on a busy sidewalk, the truth just seems to come spilling out. I’d hypothesize that this telling-strangers-absolute-truths scenario applies to more people than just me. So, why do we do that? Why do we readily admit truths to strangers that we wouldn’t admit to our close friends? I believe it’s because we’re scared. We’re scared of what other people think of us. We’re scared of letting people in. We’re scared that we’ll be teased, or torn down, or not taken seriously. We’re scared of rejection.

To counter this mentality, we need to put trust into practice. We need to practice trusting and being genuine - even when it’s hard, even when we’re scared. We need to stop being afraid of vulnerability. After all, we aren’t perfect, strong people. We are imperfect. We are weak. Weaknesses teach us how it’s impossible to be independent. We live life always having to rely on something. We were created to rely on Someone. So, why should we act like vulnerability is a bad thing? I know it’s hard to be vulnerable – believe me, I know. But I also think it’s tremendously rewarding. After all, don’t we want to be worthy of the trust of our friends? To know that others trust us enough to be open about sharing what’s on their minds and their hearts?

The longer we take to start telling the truth, in small and big ways alike, the harder it will become. We’ll be like Drew in the first seven minutes of Elizabethtown, so thoroughly bent on convincing other people that “I’m fine,” we fail to realize that we’re not fine – we’re confused, lost, and hurt. One atop of the other, I’m fines will pile up, until, finally, they choke in our throat. We’ve forgotten how to tell the truth.

“Whoever can be trusted with very little can also be trusted with much, and whoever is dishonest with very little will also be dishonest with much.” – Luke 16:10, [NIV].

Being genuine is a journey. And maybe if we are faithful with the seemingly small truths - Actually, I’m not fine, then, in turn, we will be faithful with bigger truths – both ours, and other people’s. I don’t know about you, but I want to love and relate to others genuinely. I don’t want them to be too afraid of how I might react to their truths do the same.

And so, I am dropping my mask. I’m surrendering my self-conscious mindset, and embracing vulnerability. After all: “When I am weak, then am I strong” (2 Cor. 12:10). Next time you ask me how I am, you can expect an honest answer. (Please - hold me accountable to this!) I can’t say that my answer will be pretty… but it will be true. And the truth is a beautiful thing.

I’ll end with this quote, in which I find much encouragement, inspiration, and truth.

"Love takes off masks that we fear we cannot live without and know we cannot live within."
- James Baldwin

I am so thankful for the One who loves me just as I am – vulnerable, real, and unmasked.