Masquerade

Entering the church I wonder if I am the only one that feels out of place, like I don't belong. Times like this I feel so small cause everyone else seems to have it all together. So I swallow down my self doubt, while tucking it all away, to play my part again. Hoping they will see me, the way I see them.

The stage is set and the masquerade begins. The performance is so convincing, and we know all the words by heart. We sing our hymns, listen to the preacher, and talk briefly to each other. Do we really look into each other's eyes or do we just look away?

Do I dare to let you see, the truth behind who I really am or do I wait to I get home to fall apart?

What would you do? Would your arms be open or would you walk away from me? What would make you stay? Would the love of Jesus make you stay?

We smile to hide our pain, while building up walls around our weakness. We have in essence become mannequins, made of plastic in a plastic building with a plastic steeple on top.

We all fail, we all fall down, we all are broken goods, yet we put on our masks.

We play the part to the hilt. Shielding ourselves from each other. We all really want to cry. We all want to fall down at the altar. We all want a sympathetic ear. We all want an understanding shoulder of a brother or sister to lean on. We all want our Father to see how much his children love each other.

Maybe then we can close the curtain on our masquerade.

Finally, be ye all of one mind, having compassion one of another, love as brethren, be pitiful, be courteous:
1 Peter 3:8

We must feel toward our people as a father toward his children; yea, the most tender love of a mother must not surpass ours.
Richard Baxter

by

Lance Gargus