Mask of the Prodigal Daughter

Greeters at the door…check. Stage with pulpit…check. Coffee and donuts…check.

I sat on the back row trying to avoid any type of eye contact with those people who obviously realized I was a visitor and was doing their very best to welcome me. A fake smile, a quick handshake, and a brief name exchange and I could go back to peering through the eye-holes of the mask I put on for just such an occasion.

Baptismal behind stage…check. Red hymnal every three inches down the row…check.

Yep! Everything seemed to be in its place just as it was in every.other.single.church.

I guess this one was no different, either.

I don’t know what the sermon was about. I really wasn’t listening. Maybe the mask I had on had ear plugs too. Either way, I wasn’t there that day because I wanted to find a place of worship or a church family to learn from and grow with….

I had struggled to trust people, especially women. I had felt the stab of sharp knives in my back, withdrew under the pressure of gossip and false judgment, and buckled under the weight of humiliation and shame.

I built an iron-clad fortress around my heart and hid in the darkness behind my mask. Beaten. Broken. Defeated.

I had been hurt one too many times and I WAS FINISHED, DONE! But I knew my children needed Jesus and a place to learn and grow. I was going to go with them, but I was going to hide behind my mask so no one could ever hurt me again.

There were people who tried to warm up to me, and in my anger and hurt, I shunned them or pushed them away. I remained hidden behind the mask and thought I was okay.

I became a master of masks for well over five years attending that church.

Baby Christians, who don’t understand forgiveness and everything that entails, tend to master the art of masks…and I was no exception.

But God…

The Pastor began to preach a sermon series titled, “Make a Difference,” and my heart began to break behind the mask.

Over the following weeks, the Lord began to draw me in as my heart began to melt and I felt a stirring, a calling, a yearning, if you will. Feelings I had previously hidden down deep inside underneath all the hurt and pain began to break through and push to the surface.

All of a sudden, the mask I put on to hide my pain no longer felt comfortable on my face. I longed to run back to Jesus, to go back “home” and recommit myself to the One who gave His life to set me free from the very prison cell I stayed in behind that mask.

The parable of the Prodigal Son in Luke 15 became real to me. This “abuser of grace” took his part of the inheritance from his father and fled away to squander it all in places he shouldn’t have been with people he shouldn’t have been with. When he hit rock bottom, he longed to return to his father and desired forgiveness and restoration.

Like the Prodigal Son, this Prodigal Daughter really wanted to go home too.

I had worn the Prodigal’s mask for far too long and just wanted to be back in the arms of the Father living for Him.

I had no other place to go but down on my knees in prayer to the One who could remove the mask forever.

My heart was broken and I cried out to the Lord, “Father, forgive me for failing You for so long. I don’t want to live this way any longer. I want to come back home! I want to make a difference! Break my heart for what breaks Yours!”

And as if He held up a mirror to my face, I felt Him speak straight to my heart, “Laura, it’s you. YOU’RE breaking My heart. How can you go out there and tell a lost and dying world that I love them, when you can’t forgive and love people …especially the women in your own church?”

There are no masks in the presence of God. There’s only you….and Him.

OH, Father….

Forgive me…. Please, Father….

I want to come back home.

“If we confess our sins, he is faithful and just to forgive us our sins and to cleanse us from all unrighteousness.” 1 John 1:9

The weight of all of the hurt and pain for every single day this Prodigal Daughter was absent from her Father began to melt and flow like a rushing river…carrying the mask of the Prodigal Daughter far, far away.

I didn’t need it anymore.

I was welcomed back home into the arms of the One who stood waiting for His daughter to take the mask off and come back home.

People can be cruel. People can disappoint, hurt, shame, ridicule, judge, offend, stab you in the back, etc….but a heart that refuses to forgive can cripple a Christian’s walk and render one ineffective as a witness to His mercy, love, and grace.

That is, until one day you walk into a church building that ends up being NOTHING like the others, with people who love you like Jesus… unconditionally…until you find your way back to Him.

Take off the mask. Pray. Forgive…and let the mercy, love, and grace of Jesus flow over you and wash it all away.

Come back home, Prodigal, our Father is waiting for you too.

Soli Deo Gloria

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