Masks.

Identity is a strange thing. Masks are a strange concept. We humans are so weird.

God gives us grace - freely, wonderfully, abundantly - and still we strive and strive to earn it. Why on earth do we do that? I started thinking about this based on a book I'm reading. The premise is that we (meaning specifically Christian woman raised in church, although others struggle with this as well) have been trained with this image, this expectation, of how we should act and who we should be. Strong, but feminine. The perfect homemaker. The ideal wife. The awesome mom. The great student. The best worker. On and on the list continues. This book talks about peace ruling, like an umpire. About not wearing masks of having to do it all and be it all. "Do less and be more." Some of those lines seem to have been written specifically for me.

I wrestled with that for a bit, still searching to identify how this would change me. I asked God where I should start reading in my Bible. Answer? Galatians  Well, the first chapter has this verse in it: "Am I now trying to win the approval of human beings, or of God? Or am I trying to please people? If I were still trying to please people, I would not be a servant of Christ."

So we are back to the question.. "Sarah, why are you trying to do everything, do it perfectly, without even stressing (or looking like it anyway)?"

Am I truly getting an aspect of my identity from the fact that people see me as reliable, responsible, the go-to girl to get stuff done, she-can-do-everything? I thought about this question a bit last semester, but maybe I should have thought about it more. I kinda think that this might be why I've been down lately. I know God wants me to let go of this. But it's HARD. The image that comes to mind is myself as an ice sculpture. God has the little anvil and hammer, and it's a piece that He needs to take off so that I look like Him, like I'm supposed to. Right now the sculpture isn't complete, because there is this chunk of ice hanging off me, weighing me down, but foolishly, I like it there - it is comfortable. I'm used to it.

As I was thinking about this, I thought about Martha and Mary in the Bible. I'd had a conversation recently with some friends about it, and how Martha didn't seem all that bad - hospitality is good, right? Then we reread it and realized her heart wasn't right. She was worried, not trusting.

I've wavered a few times over whether I was a Martha or a Mary. Well, in this thought process of today, I realized. My heart would be Mary - I would love to be sitting at Jesus' feet, listening, learning, loving. But - and it's a big but - as soon as Martha came out with food, I would be compelled to help, not because I felt compassion for hungry guests, but because if I stayed seated, Martha looked liked the perfect hostess and I looked like a slacker. Martha was good and being a servant - being the perfect Christian girl, acting like we are 'supposed to' - while I just sat there? Nope, couldn't let it happen. I would have been up and helping to protect that precious block of ice still attached to my identity. I would have done what I thought was my duty, my responsibility. I would have been the Mary with the wrong heart. Worried, not trusting.

This was not a comfortable revelation for me (tangent: is there any such thing as a comfortable revelation?). When put in context of that story  I could see clearly that it wasn't right. But now what? How do I let Jesus chip away that extra chunk of ice that has been part of me for so long?

Surrender.