I have been thinking a lot about transparency. In relationships with boys, friendships with girls, parents, siblings, co-workers, and with Christ. Some people can draw you out of yourself so easily, its effortless. Before you realize you have over shared, its too late its all out there. I have noticed in my life that I am typically the one that gets to listen... a lot. I am great at listening. I am great at listening because it was easier to listen growing up then it was to talk. I was asked to keep secrets, keep things private, and keep things together. I learned early... how to keep talking so people don't notice you are quiet, but never pick up that you aren't saying anything you actually feel.
I wore a mask throughout my Sophomore and Junior year in High School. My parents split up, and I didn't tell anyone that didn't need to know. And by need, I mean those who were picking me up for a social function and needed to know I didn't live on Shadblow Hill anymore. My close friends knew, and some friends in the Emmaus Community knew more specifics... but I was a shrine of hurt. My heart was free to express friendship, love, intentional conversation if it was about someone else... but I was terribly insecure about receiving it, because I knew to receive I would have to be open to it- which meant I'd have to be open, what if something escaped? One night my Sr. year I gave my testimony about Self Awareness in front of a group of people I had known most of my life. It was the first time I spoke about choices I had made, the person I was, and who I knew myself to be in Christ. I spoke the truth. I remember reading my talk on the retreat it was for, and saw my parents sitting in the back of the room with my sister Krystal, brother Justin, and closest friends. I knew that even for them, I was a voice that speaking part of their story too. I cried during parts of it. I spoke honorably and respectfully of the choices and hardships we had been enduring together. I talked mostly about how without Christ I would not know the truth, and that I knew who I was in Him. I was made incredibly strong in the protection and intimacy of my relationship with Jesus.
The mask was gone.
Everything was different after that.
I was free.
I was able to express myself and express God's love in transparency
because I was not preoccupying myself with pretending.
In my life and with incredible support and help I continue to grow up and out of those tendencies. However, I am still the listener. They call me their best friend, they tell me that they think I'm the best... they promise we'll always be friends. I know something that they don't. A friendship or relationship built on one listening more then the other is never lasting. Once that person doesn't need you in that way anymore they move on. And because it was never about you, really... the relationship passes. Sometimes its worth standing up to them and throwing the most assertive statement ever: "I am not going to be your emotional tampon anymore", and sometimes... it changes everything. I am working very hard to swing this around to not be a hiding mechanism, but an opportunity to become more authentic and real in what I share after I listen. Some people are magentically drawn to me because of this. Some people stay for awhile after they've shared to ask me questions. Some people never do. Some people stay for years, and then go... and some stay for l i f e t i m e s .
I bring this up because recently I've met someone who in many emotional capacities and moments resembles a someone I once knew. There are moments when the banter, touch, and depth of listening I could close my eyes and not be able to tell you who I was sitting with. This realization has brought to light something in me, and my walk with the Lord that until now I couldn't see.
How transparent am I?
Am I private because I'm waiting for the right people to pursue me? Or because I hide?
What mask am I wearing now, that I am not even aware of?
I sat before this person and I could taste the words being choked up in my throat about not wanting to be their emotional tampon and that I wanted balance. That if we were going to have anything, at any point it would be a two way street... because at that point it wasn't. Not really.
I kept quiet. I held my tongue.
I did not a repeat conversation, relationship, or cycle.
In that one moment, I chose different.
I knew.
I knew in that moment I was worth more.
I am not the easy choice.
I am not to be kept in silence.
I am not perfect. I screw up a lot.
I am not always able to tell you what hurts,
because sometimes I can't even slow down enough to figure it out.
I am not at your disposal when you need me, and only then.
This could perhaps be the greatest shift in my life to date. I knew that I wanted more. And that in Christ I found a more, perfect, and better relationship then I could piece together in that moment. So I kept quiet. I listened. I prayed. I felt appreciated. I knew who I was in Christ. I knew the truth. I knew I could be used to love and serve and minister... and I knew that I had people in my life I could share my heart with. But I wasn't going to make someone else because I wanted balance. I let my desires go, I let go. When the night ended, I was asked for a hug. Of course, a hug, I love hugs. At some point it shifted, it wasn't a hug... but I was being held. By someone I did not speak my catchphrase of accountability. By someone I had not shared intimate details with. By someone who had felt so much and said so much and felt so connected after what we've shared, and laughed over... could only hold. Held on. The difference for me was that in maturity- I let go because I was holding onto Jesus more.
(deep breath, sigh)
Segway to yesterday and how this all connects in the longest blog entry ever.
I watched a Sermon yesterday from Southland, a church in Lexington, Kentucky that I love. The series is called, The Pretenders. The premise is that we are all con-artists. We are all hiding behind sin, and destruction patterns/habits/lives, and that we know the "right things" to say in our circles. There is so much pressure to perform, and we cave into it and fail. Jon Weece talks a lot about Disclosure with Discretion- where is the appropriate place to reveal that which you hide, and whom to choose to be vulnerable to. Using scripture (James 5:16), "Confess your sins to each other so that you may be healed."
Some favorite points made:
"Brothers and sisters of Christ who are tired of wearing different costumes. Children of God who are tired of playing pretend. See, if you want to be free from the mask- the sin you most want to conceal is the sin you most need to reveal."
"Take the mask off. Admit that it hurts... come clean from that struggle. Paper mache doesn't reflect anything or anyone, it doesn't reflect the beauty and glory of God which is what your life is meant to do. "A broken and contrite heart God will not refuse." Psalm 51:17".
He goes on to share about his experiences in the Prayer Rooms at Southland. I loved this so much...
"In the prayer rooms, we have two types of people.
First type is we have people who grew up in church, and they've always been around church people.
I can tell. They know the language. They know what to say and what not to say. They know what parts of their story are safe to share, and what parts they need to keep to themselves so they crack a door in their heart about this w i d e.
And then there are these other people.
That walk in and they just don't know any better.
They've not be in church so this is a first for them.
We love these people.
Because they'll come in and they'll talk about how their marriage is falling apart, how they yell at each other... the tears will start to flow because they just don't know any better.
Or a person will sit down and say, "Hey my name is, and I've been sober for...". They just don't know any better.
I've been in the room when men have talked about their struggle with pornography, and women who've shared their credit card debt, or couples that have wept over their rebellious teenager that sneaks in late at night, and they just don't know any better... One man told me that growing up his dad was an elder in the church and he was respected in the community and everyone talked about what good of a man he was. Then they'd go home and he was demeaning, rude towards his wife, and this guy said 'I'm becoming this man', and I told him, You don't have too. Become like Jesus if you want too, you don't have to be that guy.
I've been in that room when people have talked about eating disorders, cutting themselves because they feel ugly, suicide attempts and drug addictions and gambling issues, and depression that keeps them in bed all day.
They just don't know any better.
I need to ask a favor of you.
Please don't tell them.
Because its a rare thing to meet someone in this life
anymore that doesn't have a mask on.
And man, its beautiful. It's beautiful.
And I want that for all of us. And so does Jesus."
Who are you transparent with?
Who knows the real you?
Are you hiding from those people because its hard?
Are you authentic and without masks before God?
Who do you share your heart with?
Do they inspire you? Do they help you change and grow?
Do you take your hurts, place them somewhere deep and "manage"?
Have you hurt someone in your inability to be transparent?
Is it worth the possibility of losing them, so that they can really have and know you?
You.Are.Worth.It.
And so are the people in your life. It's never too late... to be free from the Mask.
Sermon: The Professional Con-Artist
Thankful for those I love, especially in the past year that have never let me close the door on my heart up without first inviting them in to share, love, support, and be with me in the goodness of sunshine and the gloom of rain. They have been incredible. Transparency is hard. Once you think you've attained it or even foolishly believed you've mastered it... something happens, or someone walks into your life and you realize: nope. maybe we still need to grow there. But... today we celebrate a statement kept quiet, and a heart screaming with Praise to the Lord for a lesson learned.
Amen.
