Conversion 2:  From Masks to Real

  A sermon by Pastor Noel Anderson at First Presbyterian Church of Upland

There are many conversions of the Christian life, not just one.  In this series we’re talking about seven.  How many are there?  Maybe a hundred, but they are the ways in which we are changed inwardly that affect our outward lives as well. There are, many changes that characterize the mature Christian walk. Our book, The Cure, is our guideline narrative through these passages. First, I want to give you a little theology up front. 

Adam and Eve, when they had the chance for obedience, broke. When they took the fruit something happened to them that characterizes all of us. When they ate they became aware of nakedness. I think this is spiritual shame. They knew shame. and what did they do? They hid themselves from God and they took some fig leaves and covered themselves up. This is the nature of all of our “masking.” The masks we would wear—any masks that we wear—are just another form of fig leaves. We cover our shame for many different reasons. God, in His love, still accepts Adam and Eve, and still sought to redeem them. We’re going to talk about those masks today and the conversion of going from wearing masks to being real.

So, our text is Ephesians 1:  3 through 6.

3 Bless the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ! He has blessed us in Christ with every spiritual blessing that comes from heaven. 4 God chose us in Christ to be holy and blameless in God’s presence before the creation of the world. 5 God destined us to be his adopted children through Jesus Christ because of his love. This was according to his goodwill and plan 6 and to honor his glorious grace that he has given to us freely through the Son whom he loves. †

We are the Children of God

This text I’ve just read stands at the heart of what it means to be a Presbyterian and Calvinist. The original language says “predestined us before time,” and that has created all kinds of very pointless, stupid arguments for hundreds of years. Our predestination – our being “destined”—has to do with God’s love for Christ. The Father loves the Son from time-before-there-was-time—infinitely, eternally past and eternally future. Because God loves Christ, we are loved, because we are in Christ.

We are like adopted children. We are like the ones who Jesus brings home to the Father and says, “Dad, can I keep them?” And God says yes. Our position is not earned; it has nothing to do with who we are in and of ourselves, but entirely has to do with God’s love for Christ and our election in Christ. God elects Jesus to salvation, and all those whom he brings with Him.

It was a little more than a year ago. My wife was in the office and it was a Friday, so I wasn’t in the office—I take Fridays off. I texted Tara and wanted her to bring a book home and she texted back to me, “That’s not all I’m bringing home.” I thought, “Oh no, what’s happening?” Then she texted me a picture.  Apparently a little puppy had wandered into the Preschool. Somebody had either dropped it off or it had come over from the apartments. So she  sends me a picture of this dog on the chair in her office, and I’m thinking, “Oh, No! We already have a dog!” Little Zoey.  And this little dog came home and immediately we sent out all the ads, notifications, etc.. After about 24 hours I said, “I’m going to go take all the signs down.” We called the pound and I said, “That dog is mine whether or not anybody comes to claim her.” We waited the appropriate 30 days, but by one week I knew it  didn’t matter. If the “owners” didn’t come the first day, they’re not worthy of her!

Zoey is one of the loves of my life. She is nearly perfect in every way. I should tell you she sleeps – no joke—cheek-to-cheek. I mean it’s just the cutest dang thing. This dog is so loving—and it favors me instead of Tara! Every animal I’ve ever had—every animal I’ve ever known—favors Tara. Tara’s one of those people with a sixth sense thing with animals.  Cattle will come up to her and lick her arm. She is just one of those rare amazing people who connects remarkably with animals. But Zoey likes me! And is little Zoey perfect? I say yes. Has she experimented with bathrooms in different rooms of the house? Yes. Has she pooped on the bed? At least once, by which I mean a dozen times. Do I hate her for it? Do I abandon her? Do I say, “You are unworthy of my love, little puppy?” What kind of crazy person would do that?

What kind of God would do that?   Zoey is adopted in to our family as a full-fledged member and child, and man oh man, I love that dog so much!  I know a lot of you have dogs or cats—you realize this lesson of what it means to be loved and what it means to love  them. The lengths you feel you would go to for who or what you love—your pets, your children, your grandchildren.

God’s love for us is infinitely greater—more passionate and deeper than we can imagine. As much as I love this stupid little dog, I know that God loves me more and I know that God loves you more than that. And we don’t get it. It is proclaimed to us: we are the adopted children of the Father through Christ. Christ says of us, “Can I keep them?” and the Father says, “Yes.” Jesus might add, “but they’re a little bit problematic.” And the Father says, “It doesn’t matter. I love you and I love those whom you love.” And that is who we are. Who we are, brothers and sisters, is whose we are. And who has said, “Can I keep you?” Yes, we belong to Jesus.   We are who he says we are, and all our thoughts about ourselves can’t compare and ought not to compare. This is the good news, that Jesus loves sinners and he delights in you. He delights in me.  We are his sons and daughters through Jesus.

So Why do we Wear Masks?

This raises the problem of the masks. Knowing that we are all of that, we should be living lives that are utterly open, honest and free with an unswerving embrace of truth at any cost. But we are problematic. We are still being God’s-house-trained in many ways.  Because of self-doubt we wear masks. I’m going to mention three of them, and masks are like those fig leaves of Adam and Eve—things we use to cover ourselves because we know shame.

“Just Fine” Masks

The first mask we wear is called “Just Fine.”   Doin’ Just fine! This is a big one at church. Now sometimes someone says,“Hi How are you doing?”  You say, “I’m doing fine,” in a quick, off-handed manner and it means you’re on your way somewhere and you really don’t have time to stop and talk more. And come on, we all get that. There was a guy at seminary that used to annoy me terribly. He was too sincere and a little too intense. I loved the guy, but I’d be on my way to class and he’d say, “Hi Noel, how are you?” and I’d say, “Hey I’m good, how are you?” (just trying to move along, you know), and he’d burrow into me with eye contact and say, “No, how are you really?” A bit much!  Now there is a time for that. It might not be when you’re late on your way somewhere, but we know, what he means. We know what it means to be real.   But “Just Fine” is the solid mask that we wear to avoid participating in our own life and in relationships when the time is right for a real response.

Now the church should be a place where we have a deeper connection than we might have at work. It’s fine if you’ve got great connections at work, but this is the family of God. This is the place where we should be able to be of greater transparency. If you’re in a small group or a home group and you’re not opening up to people, I’d say the group has failed. If you’re part of a home group in which you’re not starting to share some of your dark side, I’d be curious to know how long have you been meeting. Isn’t it about time you start self-revealing a little more? To say everything’s “just fine” is avoidance, a form of self-defeat, and we cheat ourselves when we refuse to participate. And that’s what this is. It’s saying “Im good.” It’s saying, “I’m not participating.  I’m not playing.”

What Christ says to Just Fine mask is basically, “You’re mine. Let me help you do better than that.” He loves us. We don’t need the Just Fine mask.  

The Peter Pan Mask

The second mask is what I call the “Peter Pan” mask. Peter Pan has nothing to do with the Disney character, it has to do with the Protean personality.  Proteus was one of the mythical gods who could evade capture by turning into whatever he wanted.   He could become whatever he needed to be and change shape in order to cope and function in the world. The shapeshifter, like Peter Pan, never wants to grow old. Never grow old! Never grow old! A fine sentiment, but the way we do it with masks is by the constant re-inventing of ourselves. The person who is forever re-inventing themself is someone who is creating new masks constantly as a coping mechanism. Each mask is a new strategy for coping—an ego defense—way of impressing others or strategy to manipulate others. It’s an avoidance of real commitment as well.

You’ve probably heard of the Peter Pan complex in business circles—referring to one that can never quite make an adult commitment. It’s the man past middle age who’s still riding every trend: on his sixth marriage, buys a motorcycle, gets a nose ring and some hip tats—that’s someone who’s never wanting to grow up. It’s not a question of fashion and all, but really about this inability to make an adult commitment. Let’s face it, commitments are tough, and if you were raised in a family where nobody followed through with you, it’s easy to become a person that can’t trust that world, or one who can’t trust authority, or doesn’t trust that anything is stable or solid.

What Jesus says to the Peter Pan mask is, “You can make it. You’re going to be okay. Relax, I’m going to give you all that you need.?  It’s the trust in Jesus and God as Provider—God who sticks with us–that gives us the capacity to trust and commit and follow through.

The Pedigreed Mask

The third mask is the “Pedigreed” mask. This is the mask of superiority—the mask that says, “I am self-sufficient, self-reliant, and beyond need.” I think this one is becoming epidemic in America. This is the one that says, “I’ve got my stuff together, don’t you worry about me! You take care of yourself!” Do you see what this does? It pushes others away. I keeps them at arms’ distance somewhere below.

It occurs to me the way our neighborhoods are built today are more anti-community and anti-neighbor than ever in history. We build houses with the garage up front. No front porches, but if there is outdoor activity at all, it is in the back yard. People are isolated. Neighbors don’t know each other anymore. Why? One reason is this pedigreed mask, which has become a popular item. It says, “I know you have your problems, but I really don’t need my neighbors. I’ve got it all together. I’m self-reliant!  I’m not going to burden you with me in any way at all.”

This mask may have other things on it. Usually it is dollar signs, advanced academic degrees or various trophies. The problem with this mask, the Pedigreed mask, is that those who wear it tend to become very smug and self-righteous. They turn into our modern version of Pharisees. “I’m good.” This isn’t the same as “Just Fine.”  It is “I’m good, I’m here to help you.  You don’t’ help me.”

This is simply another way of pushing people away, of not participating. To the Pedigreed mask Jesus says, “Be poor. Be lame. Be blind or even be possessed—because I can heal those things.” Those who are not sick have no need of a physician. If you’ve got it all together, do you have any room for The Healer? We must find our brokenness (we are all broken, remember) and that means getting rid of Pedigreed mask. 

Another banner for the wall of the Room of Grace could read, “I cannot change or heal what I do not acknowledge” This is the beginning of getting out of a mask. Wearing a mask as a way of not participating, a way of being superior, standoffish, different, or unique—all are ways of keeping the world at arm’s length. When we function by means of masks we are externally controlled rather than internally guided. We want to be people that are internally focused—internally empowered—not externally powered. God’s Spirit working within us is our controlling power, not our attempts to meet the world on its own terms.

Witness Masks

Now another kind of mask we wear – and I want to bring this up to church people – are “Witness Masks.” Because we may think, “Well, you know, I’ve got to set a good example for others.  I’ve got to show them that following Jesus makes you a better person than not following Jesus.” Do you think that has given the church any trouble? Maybe all of its trouble?  “I used to be a sinner like you, but now I got it all together.” That’s a Christian mask—a “Witness Mask.”

“Welcome to our Church! We’re all Sanctified, Spiritual, Bible-Believing Big-League Christians Here!” How welcome would any sinner feel in that church? Some churches – and probably churches I’ve led in the past (So I’m totally guilty here)—make a big deal out of building your “Witness Mask.” They wouldn’t call it that, but that’s what it is. “We’re going to create Christians that are really attractive to non-believers! We want to have the most attractive church in town! We want people to look at us and say, ‘Yeah, I want to be a person like them!’” We can feel like we have to have it all figured out or else our witness to Jesus will be a weak, poor one. We can’t let unbelievers be let down by the fact that we’ve got problems, too. It’s a lie. The fact is that Christians are broken, sinful people as well,  and this whole idea of “setting an example for the world” is a wrong idea.

So you heard this in your Bible studies, youth group, children’s camp, and youth camp: “You’ve got to set a good example for the world!”  I say stop it–no more! We do not set an example for the rest of the world. We are not called to set an example. The very idea of setting an example for others carries within it a delusion of superiority. “I’m setting an example for you,” means “I’m superior.” Let’s not do that.  Let’s not teach our children superiority.

We have one example. It isn’t me—it isn’t anyone in this room—we have one model and it’s Christ.  Christians are people who point to the same example.  And yes, we’re trying to be like that example, but don’t for a minute pretend that it is your job to set yourself up as an example to others.

Beyond Masks

Every mask is a failed witness. Our being good witnesses is not about crafting better witness masks,  it is about trying to live mask-less. The positive way of saying this is, is that we seek to be real, transparent, honest, and self-disclosing. We know it when we see it and we know it when it isn’t there.  You know this with people in your life because you know when they’re present and when they just haven’t shown up. Every mask is a failed witness.

Now as followers of Christ we can trust in the truth.  We can trust that we are who He says we are.   And if we trust in that, we can tell the truth about anything.

Let’s go back to that quote, we can go to that quote from the book The Cure, from page 17.

“I will--each of us will—be tempted to return to my mask each time I lose the confidence of my new identity.  Daring to trust who Christ says I am, who He says He is in me, even when I feel I least deserve it and the old shame sweeps over me—this is the only way to keep the mask off, to keep feeling the cool breeze in my face.”

We need this all the time. We need to trust that we are who Christ says we are. We are sons and daughters. We do belong with Christ. We can relax over the things of this world. We do feel tempted to put on our masks them on from time to time, but we never really need to. We can do better.

The last theological point also comes from Eden.  After Adam and Eve cover themselves with masks,—those fig leaves—God comes to them and says, “Why are you hiding?” Adam says,“We heard you coming and we were afraid. We were naked.”

“Who told you you were naked?”

“Well……we ate the fruit.”

So what does God do next?   He says, in effect,  “Let’s get rid of those leaves. Let’s get rid of those masks.” Genesis says God made for them skins. Have you ever thought about this?  What? God went out and slaughtered some animals and tanned the leather and made them skins?  Why skins—isn’t that weird? God made skins for them? What are we to make of this? I think it may mean something like God has clothed us in skin We’ve been given skin to to cover our fallen, spiritual nature. We are souls mysteriously incarnate in bodies, and that skin—that flesh that God has given us—is also who Christ is.  He is the flesh given to us that is our true skin,   protection enough from the world. He and his flesh is the final covering of all shame.

A Real, Maskless Church

What might a church look like when people are real? I think is yet to be seen, but we have to have a place for intense honesty. And you know, we can handle it because we know we’re loved. We know we’re accepted. We know we’re part of the house.  We know we belong.  In HomeBoy Industries language, “We are all kin.” Because we are all kin, we can trust. We can live differently, more honestly.  Our love becomes so much better because we’re not trying to love through a mask, or receive love through a mask. 

May God increase His love in each of us, among us, and may our love between us, and those he puts in our path, increase beyond expectation. †