My husband and I moved to New York City two weeks ago, we showed up with suitcases in hand and an Air B & B booked for our first month here. Two days into our new adventure Joey saw a post online for NYC jobs, and after a short interview we were hired to work at Comic Con, the BIGGEST comic book conference in the world.
We worked maintenance, and on our first evening I was assigned to the floor where most of the action was happening. To say that it was overwhelming was an understatement. Trying to navigate through aisles and aisles of vendors, pushing my wheeled trashcan through the throngs of costumed convention attendees while sweeping up stray trash was crazy. I people watched all night, some of the costumes people wore were so elaborate, taking hundreds of dollars and probably hours of creativity and preparation. I saw Batman, Superman, Poison Ivy, Peter Griffin, Freddy Kruger, Super Mario, a Tyrannosaurus Rex, and thousands of others walking past me.
I saw women wearing next to nothing, and shirtless men in masks, I saw people posing for others to take photos of them at every turn, and at one point in time heard a young girl excitedly exclaim to her friends, “I have had so many people notice me and want to take pictures of me!!!” It hurt me so much to see thousands of people finding the affirmation that they so badly wanted only by dressing up like somebody other than themselves. They have been taught that wearing a mask gets you noticed, that who they are just as they are is not okay and they must strive to be something different. And as I pushed my way through the crowds I wondered what would happen to them tomorrow, when they didn’t have the mask and cape on. What would they do when no one wanted to take pictures of them? When they weren’t being affirmed in their jeans and T-shirts. What then? What other mask would they need to put on just to feel seen and heard, to feel like they are somebody worthy of love and attention.
I remember when I was that girl, I used to wake up every morning and put on my proverbial mask. It took different shapes and forms depending on who I was with. In front of my dad it was the mask of performance and hard work. In front of my peers it was the mask of party girl and pothead. In front of the world it was the mask of physical perfectionism, and over achiever. I wasn’t okay unless someone was telling me I was okay, I was competing with everyone else just to be told that I was somebody, but in doing so betrayed the very person that I was created to be.
We live in a world where people see everyday that it is not okay to be ourselves, we get criticized and judged, told by our parents, teachers, peers, and the media that we need to be somebody more, somebody different. I have struggled with identity my whole life, and it was only after I met with Jesus and He pointed me towards the Father that I saw the truth. That He created each and every single one of us with purpose and intention. He gave us those quirky characteristics that each of us have (you know which ones I’m talking about), He gave some of us big feet, or a snaggle tooth, a dry sense of humor, or the ability to connect easily with people, and others the ability to see into the hearts of those around them, and he looked at us all and said that it was good. We need to stop looking at others as the mighty judges that we need to be perfection for, we need to stop looking to the world for our identities and we need to look to the Father. Psalms 139 is literally titled God’s Perfect Knowledge of Man, if God has such a perfect knowledge of us why do we continue to look elsewhere for our identities? If we invested as much time and money into discovering and becoming our true selves as we do in the masks we wear imagine the confidence and wholeness that we would be walking in.
Instead of just being spectators in the theatre of life we need to be participants who are not just acting but who are living the lives we were called to live and being the people we were created to be.
