The Masks I Wore

 

Over the previous few posts, we have been looking at this idea of personas, masks that we wear, or fig leaf disguises we put on to hide our shame from ourselves, God and those around us.  Last time we looked at the life of Saul of Tarsus who was converted and became the Apostle Paul.  When he was confronted by God on the Damascus road, his masks shattered, and God rebuilt him and made him into a new man, a better man.  A man that could be used for his service.  Through that process Paul stepped out of his persona as a self-righteous hypocrite into his true identity as a child of God, or as he often wrote in his letters, the servant of Jesus Christ.  Saul of Tarsus had to be crushed to dust before God could build up Paul the Apostle.

There are echoes here of my own story. 

I grew up in a solid, Christian home, with loving, nurturing parents, but in spite of all that I was wounded, and my soul was ruptured.  This led to me feeling inadequate and unworthy.  Shame and pain filled my soul.  I had to find some way to deal with this pain, so as a child I became a high achiever and a people pleaser.  I sought the approval of others, especially authority figures.  I was a rule keeper (for the most part, I had my fair share of mischief), and I did not like to get in trouble and face disapproval from my parents, teachers or pastors.  When I could hand my parents a report card with good marks, I felt fulfilled.  At church, I sang in choirs, memorized verses and did my best to follow the rules.  There was part of me that was doing this as part of my relationship with God, but mostly I was looking for the affirmation of the adults in my life.  I wanted nothing more than to hear, "good job!" from those I respected.

There is nothing wrong with seeking after achievement and approval, after all, Jesus encouraged us to seek after the approval of our Heavenly Father, to hear that, "Good and faithful servant" on that great day.  This desire for approval can be a good thing.  My problem was that my identity was wrapped up in the approval of others instead of my relationship with Christ.  My sense of self did not belong to God, but to others.  It was a form of idolatry, seeking to please men in place of God.  It was pride, I wanted to look good and have a sense of status.  Achievement became my fig leaf disguise, the persona I used to cover the wounds, the shame and worthlessness I felt.  Academic and religious success were shrubs I was hiding behind because I couldn't bear to have anyone see who I really was on the inside.

As a teenager, things became more complicated.  My religion became more important to me, so along with the masks of achievement, I added self-righteousness, false holiness, and pride.  I built up the shrubs and layered on the fig leaves, hoping no one could see through my disguise. 

Achievement and false piety could never heal my ruptured soul, so I continued to look for things to soothe my pain.  As my sexuality awakened in adolescence, I discovered internet pornography.  Porn became a new balm I used to soothe my feelings of anxiety and inadequacy. 

I would feel rejected, but with porn I felt accepted.  I would feel insulted, but with porn I felt respected.  I would feel powerless, but porn made me feel powerful.  While porn provided many benefits, it only served to deepen my wounds.  Shame followed its wake and wrapped more of its tentacles around my soul and squeezed. 

I knew that porn was a sin in the eyes of God.  Having a sense of shame around porn was a good thing, but like Adam and Eve, instead of allowing that shame to lead me to true repentance and restoration of my relationship with God, I turned to the fig leaves of achievement and self-righteousness.  I put on masks, hiding my sin and shame from myself, God and others.  Through that process, shame became more and more toxic.

The shame and pain I felt in my soul only damaged my soul further, so I continued to turn to porn to feel relief, and the cycle of insanity started.  I longed for acceptance and respect, from God more than anyone, but I felt that with the stink of sin in my life, He would not love me and respect me.  I felt distant from God and spiritually cold. 

I certainly knew that God forgives sin freely and willingly, "If we confess our sins, he is faithful and just to forgive us our sins, and to cleanse us from all unrighteousness." (1 John 1:9) But I did not feel forgiven. 

I felt outcast and alone. 

The more I sinned and acted out with porn, the more I felt I had to work harder and do more to gain the approval from God that I desired.   Those wounds and that shame drove me to reinforce those facades to hide my unclean habits from everyone else.  The masks became that much more important to hide all the sickness hiding underneath.

God is a good and gracious Father and would not leave me in my sickness for all my life.  Indeed, I prayed many, many, many times to be healed from the addiction, but I could not find a way to healing.  So, like Saul of Tarsus, God had to intervene in a dramatic and painful way.  I ended up in prison.  Not the plan I would have chosen, but it was what I needed.  I couldn't see that, but God could.

Through all the court proceedings, the lawyers, and judges, every secret I was keeping was laid bare for all to see.  The masks I was wearing were ripped off and my wounds were exposed.  Over the years prior to my arrest, I had been doing work with therapists and been involved in Twelve Step groups, and through that I had removed some of the masks I was wearing, and found some healing, but this final stroke was what I needed to remove the last vestiges of my fig leaf disguises. 

With my fig leaves removed the lacerations in my heart could be exposed and begin to heal.  Being incarcerated was a necessary step.  The compulsion to look at porn was so strong that I could not control myself.  I had to be put into a situation where I had no access to the internet or anything pornographic.  My body had to be bound so that my spirit could heal and find strength and freedom once more. 

One of the most important things I had to learn was to speak the truth, or at least not lie.  While I was wearing those masks, I was living a lie.  I would present the righteous, Christian man to the world, but in the secrecy of my room, I was an adulterer at heart.  I was two-faced, a hypocrite.  Finding others that I can be rigorously honest with has been essential to my finding healing and wholeness.  This has primarily been through the men I have met in Twelve Step groups, and in recent years, especially, with my good friend Tom.  He is always faithful and reliable to listen and hear what I am going through and always offers affirmation and encouragement no matter what I am struggling with.

The Apostle Paul encourages us to confess our faults to one another and to bear one another's burdens.  He recognized that in order to find healing for the wounds and ruptures in our souls, we need community.  We need help. 

Through all this I have found peace and freedom I have never known before.  Certainly, I am still locked up, but I am no longer controlled by the compulsions that once drove me.  I feel as though my true, authentic self is slowly emerging from the rubble of my former life.  I feel more in tune with my spirituality, that every day I am walking in the Spirit.  I am no longer living the sin, confess, sin, confess cycle.  I am walking in victory for the first time in my life and God is filling my soul more and more with desperate joy.