Can you relate to this scenario?

You wake up late on Sunday morning in a bad mood, take it out on your spouse and children. Everyone is grouchy and snappy. You rush out the door with no breakfast, one of the kids didn’t brush their hair, only one brushed their teeth, and one realizes on the way there that they wore their Crocs (Sound too specific to be hypothetical?). You feel like a tangled mess of crazy, and shudder at the thought of how everyone will perceive your disorder and obvious lack of competence. Everyone is seething on the way to church, so no one speaks.

As we pull into the parking lot and see the perfectly-put-together families, we immediately feel the pressure to act happy because we’re supposed to be the most joyful people on earth. So, we approach the main entrance to the building where we are greeted by the friendly, smiling faces of the greeters who hold out their hands and say, “Good morning!” And we feel the pressure to return the smile and say, “Good morning!” with the happiest voice we can conjure.

The remainder of the time is a blur. We answer the inevitable, “How are you?” a dozen times with the same, ever-predictable, “Great! How are you?” We reassure everyone that work is going well and busy, busy, busy (as if busyness is the greatest achievement in life). We tell them how well our family is doing, how blessed we are, how good God has been to us and how great life is. All the while dying inside because we feel like our lives are falling apart.

In the past, I have felt nervous that one of my kids will tell how crazy things were getting ready that morning. I have cringed at some of the things my kids have told their teachers. I have lectured my children about “using their filters.” Why? Because my family dynamic isn’t always the perfectly-put-together representation I display on Sundays. So, I felt the pressure to impress others, while also planting the seed in my children’s minds that they must do the same. We must keep up appearances and pretend to be something we’re not so that we can be accepted.

Honestly, I was so tired of living this way. I dreaded the idea having to put on my mask week after week, pretending to be happy when I was miserable. My heart sank with the unoriginal lineup of praise and worship songs and sometimes I just wouldn’t sing, because I didn’t walk in on Sunday mornings always feeling happy. Those songs didn’t touch my heart, and they definitely did not pull me from the depths of my despair; they only exacerbated it. I wanted to sing some honest songs with raw emotions written in them – songs that allowed me to get real with God, but those don’t make it in the Sunday morning lineup at most churches.

The thought of superficial conversations made my heart sick. I wanted real conversations about struggles I was having with temptation, marriage, parenting, despair, depression, and anxiety. So, I sank deeper and deeper into despair because the one place I felt should be safe to be real was just another taskmaster forcing me to comply to the surrounding expectations, and my least favorite day of the week soon became Sunday.

I know that people often get flack for “skipping church” to be at ball games, bowling, golfing, fishing, drinking etc. However, we crave community because it was built into our DNA by our Creator, and we will gravitate toward it, wherever it might be.

Where do you fit in this scenario? Which mask do you hide behind – self-righteousness or shame? Or do you find yourself hiding behind both at times? This is not the abundant life Jesus wanted to give us. There is no joy, freedom, or healing when we pretend to be something we’re not. Brokenness does not destroy relationships; it’s the common ground on which lasting relationships are often forged (see Psalm 51:13, Luke 22:31-32, 2 Corinthians 1:3-4, Hebrews 4:14-16).

My prayer for you is that you will understand that acknowledging your brokenness is the bridge that leads you away from self-righteousness and shame and into abundant life.

With much love,
Bryan