Shine
By David Myers
When I think about Halloween, I think about
masks. And when I think about masks, I think about appearances. And when I
think about appearances, I think about that one mirror in my house which, when
the lighting is just so and I stand a certain distance away, I look … well,
pretty darn good! Shirtless, I appear like nothing less than a young Ronald
Reagan.
But as I move closer and the lighting
increases, my reflection seems to morph until, instead of being an Adonis, I
look more like a laundry bag filled with oatmeal. If I could only control the
lighting everywhere I went and demand people keep a distance of at least seven
feet, I would be considered quite a handsome man. In fact, I could be truly
spectacular looking and worthy of magazine covers across the globe, but only
when I’m in a room too dark for anyone to see me.
Which leads me to this thought: If people
need a flashlight to see the real you, you need to turn on the Light.
I
always wanted to be the James Bond type; you know – tall and straight, every
suit fitting perfectly, not a hair out of place, my smile like a marshmallow
taco. Instead, my stature is more akin to an aging Neanderthal with a bad back;
I envy my dog’s toothy grin; and my clothes always look rumpled (leading
me to wonder if perhaps my clothes are fine and it’s me who’s rumpled).
Then there’s my hair. My hair is long enough
now that I require a several inch thick layer of hair spray to hold it in place
at work. When I’m done it feels like I’m wearing a helmet. I use so much hair
spray that Procter & Gamble sends me an annual Christmas card with pictures
of their grandson who I’m putting through college. His name’s Billy Proctor
& Gamble. Last card said he had made the football team. They grow up so
fast. (I also get cards from the Cocoa Puffs people.)
The point is, why do
I do it? Why do I feel so compelled to have long hair? James Bond didn’t have
long hair. Sean Connery had hardly any hair at all.
The
other day I was eating out when my waitress made it clear she was having a very
bad day. As I’m typically mild mannered almost to the point of sedation, she
appreciated my patience, and when I went to pay, this young girl really did say
to me, “Can I ask you a question? Are you a hippie?”
By Jove! Was my long hair an attempt at
freeing the hippie within – to let people know there’s a free spirit hidden
under these frumpy clothes and Microsoft-weary eyes? Or is my hair an attempt
to make people think I’m a free spirit, not because it’s what I am, but
because it’s what I’d like to be?
I guess we all try to fill in the blanks now
and then. We try to be the things we wish we were, because we’re afraid that
the way God made us just isn’t enough. We’re so afraid of being ordinary, that
we try to fool the world into thinking we’re extraordinary.
If only we knew just how extraordinary we
truly are.
I can’t tell you how many times, driving the
17 miles home from work, I’ve fantasized about being
more than I am. There’s the really smart Dave, the really strong Dave, the rock
star Dave, the kung fu Dave, the humble guest on the Tonight Show Dave .... Yep, I have quite a list.
The fact is, I’m no Einstein; I only sing to
scare predators; and I couldn’t fight my way out of an egg carton. And if anyone cares? Well ... who cares if anyone
cares!
The following is a true story. A long time
ago in a place far, far away, there was a girl who looked a bit like a jack-o-lantern. Yet, she was surrounded by friends, and even had
some young men yearning to go out with her.
Why was she so popular? Because she
couldn’t care less about her looks! She had such a love for life that it
transcended her physical appearance. She wore no mask at all. If she had – if
she had been worried about her appearance -- it could have eaten her up inside.
The masks we wear are constructed by our own
insecurities, but instead of hiding our insecurities, they often highlight
them. Taking off the mask means accepting you the way you are --
the ordinary, extraordinary you – the way that God breathed life into you,
warts and all.
Taking off that mask means
letting the light of God shine through you. Don’t make people use a
flashlight to see the real you. Shine!