Are there any hands to raise?
Am I the only one who's traded
In the altar for a stage?
The performance is convincing
And we know every line by heart
Only when no one is watching
Can we really fall apart
But would it set me free
If I dared to let you see
The truth behind the person
You imagine me to be?
Would your arms be open
Or would you walk away?
Would the love of Jesus
Be enough to make you stay?
("Stained-Glass Masquerade," by Casting Crowns)
"If you try to hang on to your life you will lose it. But if you give up your life for my sake, you will save it."
-Jesus of Nazareth
(Matthew 16:25, NLT)
Since my arrival here at MACU, God has been relentlessly stripping me of everything comfortable and familiar. Through trials and temptations, and through my own failures, God revealed to me a level of self-righteousness, pride and fear that I did not know existed in me. He showed me that my pursuit of perfection was not pleasing to Him; it was pharisaical, and was in fact separating me from Him. I cared about preserving the holier-than-thou image I was trying to project, but I did not care at all for the condition of my heart. I looked into God's eyes and saw myself reflected in them, and I was ashamed of and repulsed by what I saw there.
"We may think we are doing the right thing, but the LORD always knows what is in our hearts."
(Proverbs 21:2, CEV)
One morning before fall break, when I had overslept and was late for chapel, God literally brought me to my knees. I slipped silently into the pitch-dark chapel and slid into the very back row, because I was embarrassed about being late. I was glad of the darkness, because no one could see who had come in; the shadows hid my shame. Just as I was breathing a sigh of relief, I heard God speaking to me, using the voice of the chapel speaker. His question was this:
"Where are you?"
(Genesis 3:9, NIV)
It was the saddest question I had ever heard. Where are you? Why are you hiding from me? I sat there trembling as the speaker explained the origin of shame; the beginning of God's loneliness and longing in the garden of Eden. I felt so torn; I wanted to open my heart to God's anguished query and answer, "Here I am!" But it was safer, and less painful, to remain hidden in the dark. Coming to the light meant admitting the existence of all my secret sins. It meant confessing to God, and to other people. It meant the possibility of rejection and hurt. It was so tempting to take all that conviction, and the clear call of God, and bury it in the depths of my soul.
"Everyone who makes a practice of doing evil, addicted to denial and illusion, hates God's light and won't come near it, fearing a painful exposure."
(John 3:20, MSG)
When chapel ended, I bolted. I ran to my dormitory, knelt on the floor next to my bed, pulled my blanket over my head and cried out to God. I could hear Him; were He physically present, He would have been insistently tugging at that blanket and saying, "Look at me! Why are you hiding from me? I love you!" But I couldn't bring myself to uncover my face and talk to my Father.
When my sobs had quieted and I was finally still, God reminded me of the truths in His Word. He agreed with me: Yes, admission and confession would be painful, but just as necessary as the re-breaking of a bone that has been set wrong. He sobered we with a dash of cold 'living water.'
"For all that is secret will eventually be brought into the open, and everything that is concealed will be brought to light and made known to all."
(Luke 8:17, NLT)
"Make this your common practice: Confess your sins to each other and pray for each other so that you can live together whole and healed."
(James 5:16, MSG)
"Yet if you devote your heart to Him and stretch out your hands to Him, if you put away the sin that is in your hand and allow no evil to dwell in your tent, then you will lift up your face without shame; you will stand firm and without fear. You will surely forget your trouble, recalling it only as waters gone by. Life will be brighter than noonday, and darkness will become like morning."
(Job 11:13-18, NIV)
God is bringing me out of hiding; with His help, I have begun to open my life and share my struggles with others. I have discovered, to my surprise and delight, that my friends love me even more deeply now that they have seen my imperfections. Through the love of my friends, God has been teaching me about mercy and grace; He has been showing me the full extent of His love. I am learning to close the curtain on my stained-glass masquerade.
