What story do you need to tell the world? That is the question posed by writer and actress Susan Isaac at the Donald Miller's Storyline conference recently. The answer - the story you cannot, not tell. That's deep I know! I had never before realized I had a personal story worth telling. At least not one that could be told in public. The story I was willing to share was will... false. It was the story of my mask.
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| Kevin & Shawna with Donald Miller |
It was at the conference, however, while reading Donald Miller's new book
Scary Close (Awesome but not publicly available until early 2015), that I realized that my personal story, the one worth telling, is my
authentic story. The one I am too frightened to reveal. The page-turner Jesus reads! The one that keeps Him on the edge of His heavenly seat/throne reading all night. Not the carefully edited, scrubbed versions I sell to those across the pew or on Facebook.
I learned truth is compelling. It is filled with incredible suspense, adventure and struggles! The stuff all good stories are made of! Just read authors like
Jen Hatmaker,
Glennon Melton or
Shauna Niequist that are bestsellers and/or have tens of thousands of online readers. They are often jaw-dropping authentic in their descriptions of life. They share their feelings, pains, mistakes, regrets, shames, fears and joys. They drop their masks and the world says, "Me too! I have felt that pain. I have made that mistake. I have experienced that fear. I have felt that shame."
The notion of being authentic is alien to me. It feels like leather shoes worn in the river and left in the sun to dry - uncomfortable! Perhaps with time they will soften and fit. I think it is that whole thing about being born with a sinful nature. Our sinful natures are shameful and must be tamed and repressed, but not talked about or shared. The problem is this is a major deal in our lives and it is off-limits! How can we be authentic with friends when some of our biggest issues, challenges and battles are faced alone and in secret?
I learned early on that a mask has value. It is an efficiency thing I think. I wanted a certain desirable image that was rewarded in my fundamentalist community. The mask portrayed the desirable image in bright colors. Behind the mask, I could hide my sinful nature, fears, flaws, weaknesses, temptations, insecurities, guilt and shame. The mask worked. It covered most of me and I wore it well.
The strange thing is, I wore my mask with pride. I thought I wore it better than most. I was skilled in the way of the mask. The mask nearly became me like a grafted tree limb. The unrecognized tragedy though, is you can't form close, authentic, loving and sincere relationships with masks. The long term result of mask wearing is insincere politeness. In a room full of mask wearers, there is a lot of small talk going on. Shallow and meaningless talk that avoids anything deeply personal or important.
I am pained by the memory of many lost friendships that slipped away as a result of my chronic mask wearing.
When I was newly married to Shawna, we lived up a long gravel driveway in a forest in Southwestern Washington. We cut down trees, cleared our own land, burned the brush, built a road, and moved a used single wide trailer house onto the property like any respectable redneck would. During the summers we would often hike down a steep wooded trail to the river and walk in the cool waters to escape the brief summer heat. All summer heat is brief in SW Washington.
Each year as the river waters receded, tunnels made by grumpy beavers were exposed in the muddy banks. These were not small tunnels. We lost dogs in them. The tunnels were lined with sticky grey clay that was ideal for molding. We smeared the clay all over our faces and bodies. Oh the crazy things newlyweds do! It was like finding a limitless supply of Play-Doh in your backyard with no mother around to spank you for grinding it into the carpet! We formed bulging foreheads, elongated ears, horns, bulbous noses, etc. We would slap on the grey oozing clay and leave the mask to bake in the sun.
Before becoming a refund (a recovering-fundamentalist) and learning about authenticity, I always had a mask close by. Sadly I believed it was my mission in life to wear and promote masks, and to invite others to wear them as well. In my mind, a perfect world was everyone wearing a mask just like mine.
My school friends were smarter than I. Unfortunately, I didn't set the mark high. They saw right through the hypocrisy of mask wearing and walked away. They didn't see mask wearers modeling joy filled authentic lives overflowing with vibrant and thriving friendships. Lives that embraced the full spectrum and scale of human emotions and God gifted spirituality. Mask wearers cannot experience those things in their fullness. My friends sought and found authenticity elsewhere.
When you wear a mask that looks like everyone elses, no one is interest in it. No one buys movie tickets to see a sequel to a boring movie. The mask prevents our incredibly interesting authentic stories to be heard.
I still feel uncomfortable without my mask, but I've got good stories to tell and write now! At times though, I still find myself reaching for the mask, not the whole mask, but a half a mask like the character in the Phantom of the Opera. Masks are hard to leave.
One of the activities in Donald Miller's Life Plan workbook is to review your life and identify the major ups and downs you have experienced. You then study them for a
life theme. This was a challenge for me. I think I have edited my life theme every day since I began. I keep finding myself writing themes for masks, rather than my authentic life. Authenticity is a habit I am still forming. It will take some time.
