The God Without a Mask

Tonight I watched a movie in which the martyred hero - who dramatically proclaimed much-needed change to an entire nation gripped by fear - never showed his face. He never even spoke his own real name. His praise was sung after his sensational and inescapable death. Even the gruesome, appalling things that the masked man did (when I was still trying to decide if he was some mad man or a champion) were somehow turned to right and wonder in the end. The long-suffering heroine learned to love her mysterious rescuer, this somewhat-different-than-man who spoke a truth she had never heard before. But even she never got a glimpse of his face. He had a mission for which he was willing to die, and he would suffer no obstacle to stand in his way. If his mission was for the ultimate good, surely everything he did was acceptable, even applaudable. Thus ran the story. The cringing masses were stirred up to free themselves from the bonds of their power-hungry oppressor - all thanks to the fearless vision and action of this one masked man.

Yet still we never get to look at his face. And now you know my chief dislike of the movie. The mask. It never came off - it never changed its somewhat ghoulishly grinning expression - to his very last breath, the man behind the mask remained concealed, unknown. If they wanted to build a hero, I at least wanted to be able to look into his eyes. But even the girl who loved him frankly admitted that she hardly knew a thing about him - where he grew up, who his parents were, if he had any siblings. Normally well-known facts between lovers.

Nonetheless, our masked champion clung to his disguise to the very end, ashamed, I think, of the true appearance of his own face. He had been unspeakably disfigured and cruelly scarred, and he carried the unseen wounds to his death. So intent on his enormous mission that he would cover his own self with a blatant lie. “I am not what you see,” the mask seemed to gravely say. “But you cannot see what I really am.” And so he strictly forbade everyone personal access to himself. He chose the mask, and it cut him off from living as a human.

Dear God, I am glad You are not like that! Compare the fearless hero, dead and masked at the end, to the Jesus Who died, bleeding and naked, on a cross. He hid all - You hid nothing. You promise to reveal Yourself to those who seek You, and in a world where “facelessness” is becoming more and more common, this is a dear promise indeed. It is a dangerous thing to blindly follow the beguiling voice behind a mask, even if it would be a hero. To wear a mask is to hide - to pretend - to remain untouched and untouchable. Poetic, I am sure - but not very life-giving.

But You, God, have never stopped making Yourself knowable and approachable. Your mission is redemption, not for one nation, but for a world, and You invite us all into unlimited access with You. And if we will come into Your presence, You do not rush to cover the truth of Your being, but gladly reveal to us Your face and Your name. And so in all ways You have proved Yourself as the God without a mask.

Inspiration

So, I haven’t written much lately. Which - if you’re like me and check other peoples’ blogs once a week or so in search of interesting tidbits - you already know. Maybe I’ve had a bad case of what they call writer’s block. Like the brain cells that ought to have gone zooming down to the publishing department got locked up in a traffic jam. Maybe I’ve been too busy being creative in other areas besides writing - like wood burning. Now that’s fun. Maybe it’s just a combination of gray winter days and not enough m&m’s.

Whatever the problem, I’ve decided to write again. Got inspired, you could say. By being sick. For an entire week, I was pretty much dead to the world. They could have assassinated the president and changed the colors of our flag, and I don’t think I would have known. Not that I wasn’t reading. But my books were a little more on the classical/historical fiction side. Zane Grey, Charles Dickens, Sherlock Holmes, and the like. I’m pretty sure I went through five books in a week. Which can be a bit dangerous for a person with an over-active imagination. Kinda like handing a double-shot espresso to a kid with ADD.

Which may be why I was sitting downstairs at 11:00 at night imagining a masked stranger with an ax standing in the shadows of the next room. Or why I was trying to decide how to word my will while I was stretched out on the couch with a stubborn fever. I finally abandoned all my ideals about anti-medicine and 7-up-cures-everything and took myself to see the doctor. In 25 years of living, I’d never been to the doctor because I was sick.

I walked into the medical facilities with those tales of poisoned drinks and unnamed desert terrors racing through my mind (remember the ADD kid with the caffeine overload?) and imagined I might never come out. It was probably some undiscovered, incurable disease that would leave the doctors scrambling and me in a hospital bed hooked up to an IV for months - maybe years.

Turns out my throat was red. That’s what the doctor said. “Your throat’s red. Here’s some antibiotics.” Five minutes later, I was back in my car, clutching a prescription and wondering how “months-maybe-years” in a hospital bed could fly by so fast. So much for my best-selling how-to book on amusing yourself while dangerously ill. Talk about anti-climatic. Guess it’s back to the m&m’s and double-shot espressos for me. There’s gotta be an easier way to find inspiration.

My Very First Slideshow!

So, Christina, I got this brilliant idea from . . . somebody . . . to put a slide show on my blog. So, I did! And here is the result of staring at a computer screen for five hours, trying various different options, none of which worked until the very last one. Isn't that always how it goes? However, I still LOVE my horse - and Kristi loves her horse too. I guess you could call this a commercial for Arabian geldings. They're pretty amazing. Hope you all enjoy!

A few more pictures from good old Nebraska . . .

First, for those of you who didn't know, my younger sister, Kristi got a horse recently. So, now we've two lovely Arabs to ride through the cornfields. Here's us all bundled up and bareback just before a ride:


God ice-sculpting:



Our little outdoor Christmas tree:

Top Ten Things I'll Never Do That I've Done

Number One: Be a secretary (I hate paperwork!). For 1 ½ years, no less!

Number Two: Compete in a Country - yes, that’s C-o-u-n-t-r-y - Music Festival. This is true.

Number Three: Change diapers REGULARLY. Welcome to day care!

Number Four: Teach any sort of classroom in a school setting. Kindergarten, for example. Or first - fifth grade. All of which I have done, minus fourth grade.

I think I’ll call it the “TT TINTID” club. “Top Ten Things I’ll Never do That I’ve Done.” So far I’m the only member, but you’re welcome to join. The day I graduated highschool, I never would have dreamed I’d have crossed FOUR whole things off my top ten list in just six years. Makes me kinda nervous to find out what other horrible things might be on my list that I don’t know about yet!

But today I’m only going to focus on one of my top ten. Number Two. Competing in a Country Music Festival. The Nebraska Country Music Festival, to be exact. Which was just last week in Hastings. And I went. Cause God inspired me with a song. That wasn’t supposed to be country. Only it was.

I got second in the “Most Promising Female” category, and they handed me a big, shiny, bright red (second place is always red, but I have no idea why) trophy that I’m trying to sell on Ebay for $5.00. Okay, not really. The part about Ebay, I mean. But the thought has crossed my mind. But the trophy isn’t really the point. Not at all.

The point is the people that were there at the Festival. And that most of them don’t have a personal relationship with Jesus. And that a lot of them, even the ones who go to church, are caught up in this “If I can just win a prize . . .” mentality. And that the song God inspired me with just happens to be all about the best thing on earth: walking with Him.

Here are the words:
VERSE 1
So many miles we’ve walked along
You’ve always held my hand
Coming back to carry me
When I didn’t have the strength to stand
Through the flood and through the fire
You’ve always been my sky
Sunshine lighting up my day
The stars that shine at night
CHORUS
So hold my hand one more time
Turn to me and let me see You smile
Sing to me a love song
As the sunlight fades
One last dance, take it slow
If there’s one thing I oughta know
It’s that loving You
Is the best of every day
We’re walking Home together
Just like always
VERSE 2
Who would’ve thought through all these years
Your love could be so grand
Sweeping me right off my feet
Every time You held my hand
I never found an end to You
I guess I never will
But one fine day I fell in love
And I’m in love still
BRIDGE
Oh, so many goodbyes
Only with You
I thank God that I
Don’t ever have to

Maybe the TT TINTID club isn't such a bad thing after all.