For the first time in many months I attended a real, live church service! I’m visiting family in rural Illinois and churches have started to open up with all of the appropriate safety protocols in place. Before exiting the car I took a careful look at my mask collection and quickly chose the one with the big, toothy smile. “It’s perfect!” I thought to myself. “Everyone wears a smile in church!”.
As I walked by the guards, oops, I mean ushers, at the door I was greeted warmly and granted entry because I had my mask on and they loved my smile. The sentry at the next blockade, I’m sorry, I meant to say, the sweet lady at the hand sanitizing station, greeted me warmly and liked my smile but would not let me pass until my hands were drowned in germ killing gook. As I entered the sanctuary I found a safe seat and nodded my greeting to those sitting more than 6 feet from me. They all acknowledged my smile. While not everyone had a smile on their mask, we had one thing in common, we were all wearing masks.
Behind my mask I am a person filled with pain, fear, shame, anger, and insecurity but no one can see it … I’m wearing my Sunday mask. I am expected to wear my mask. A couple of years ago I went to a church without my mask because I was unable to hide my brokenness that day. It was one of the few times that I let my vulnerability show … what a mistake! I was immediately chastised by one of the members of the hospitality team. “Can’t you just smile for one hour while you’re here?”, he roared. Well, the answer was “no”. I learned something that day, I am expected to wear my mask regardless of how I feel; we all are. My need that day was to experience what is described in Galatians 6:2-3. “Share each other’s burdens, and in this way obey the law of Christ. If you think you are too important to help someone, you are only fooling yourself. You are not that important.” (NLT)
Some day I will risk leaving my mask behind again. If you decide to remove your mask, I pray I will be there to share your burden and wrap you in the love of Christ.
Simple Faith 
Beautiful! Thank you, Deanna!
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Wow. Your story reminds me of Phil Yancey’s experience of church in his book, What’s So Amazing About Grace. IT’s such a gift when someone takes off their mask and entrusts their vulnerable-self to us. May we receive the gift with empathy and grace.
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ARRRGGGH. Deanna, these things ought not to be!! (James 3:10, wrong context and application, but you get my point). My goodness, Brothers and Sisters! Read the Psalms. Read Job. Read Lamentations and Jeremiah. Listen to YHWH who grieved, and read what Jesus said in the Garden of Gethsemane! Read all the “one anothers” in the NT. Makes me wanna yell at somebody. But then…I’m afraid I might have done something like that at some point in my life. I’m so very thankful that we have a Great High Priest who was tempted in every way but without sin, and that HE, if no one else does, sympathizes with our weaknesses, and comforts us in our distress. And one who is always interceding for us. Always. My flesh and my heart may fail, but God is the strength of my heart forever. And ever.
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I’m sorry you ran into the church grinch that day. He loves to steal joy and spread unrealistic expectations. I hope it wasn’t at RCC. Sometimes masks are necessary. We can’t share our problems with everyone in every setting. Sometimes they are great barriers to stop the nosey, gossipy, or uneducated from driving the pain deeper. But, you are right; those within the Church are to extend empathy, a warm welcome, and a listening ear. I apologize for the person who obviously didn’t see beyond your need and take the time to comfort you.
You are such a good listener and friend to those who hurt. Often those who look at us think we are too strong in our faith to have problems we need to share. It will be hard, but I hope you will take off your mask again someday and find the love of the Lord poured out through another person. You are loved more than you know.
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