The stage left wing was dark, only the glow of blue work light allowed us to see each others faces. The house was full and anticipation was high. Soon, very soon the curtain would fly and the audience would be taken several thousand years back to when Jesus walked this earth.
Bright costumes, stunning sets, awesome effects and mind-blowing technology. Lively music sung by beautiful actors, real truth-scripted scenes performed by our cast; it was all about to go down for a little over 2,000 people.
I took a deep breath and looked around me. 20+ technicians milled about, some in circles talking, others seated on preset scenery, each with a headset and belt pack - the only way we could communicate as we shifted scenes and prepped the wings. Instead of colorful costumes we wore black, to blend in and not be seen.
Then I looked deeper. We were tired, exhausted. Two technicians were wearing stabilizing boots after sustaining injuries during the show run last year. They were both hard working folks that had to take a step back and only do jobs that required little to no physical effort.
We pushed and pulled sets, plugged towers, ensured technology ran smoothly; operated sets and equipment that had potential to be very dangerous if not handled appropriately. We had grown accustomed to our work. And we were tired.
While the guests were entranced with the lights and story, there was another script, another show unfolding backstage. And this show was vastly different then the one performed out front. And for theater that might be ok, but in life - let it not be so.
It often appears that people have it all together. And let's be real, I like to look like I have it all together. But the truth is, if you step past the exterior, past the happy smiles and filtered posts, you'll often find a heart that's hurting, a soul that is desperately in need of truth, a mind that is crowded with thoughts, longing for peace.
Why must we hide the hard parts? Why do we dress up the outside as if everything is ok on the inside? What if we flipped the stage, gave a backstage tour, opened up our lives and hearts?
I can only answer this question in my own heart. And the answer is hard to type. But I'm afraid. Afraid that people will see the 'real me' and move on. Scared that I'll be defined by my brokenness. Terrified that I'll disappoint, that they won't love me, the real me. Cautious that if others see my sin, my hurt and my mess, it will seem that God isn't real and that He isn't the powerful God I declare Him to be.
Nothing could be further from the truth.
I am broken. I am a mess. Praise Jesus for the gospel. I don't revel in my failure, but I do exalt in His grace and wholeness.
(more on this later)
So I ask myself, and anyone who reads this.
What if we gave a backstage tour, opened our lives and hearts and let people inside?
What if we choose to take a deeper look? If we peered behind the curtain of the lives around us.
What if we stopped to listen, to learn and to care?
Would people be more likely to fly the curtain if the reaction was one of love? If they knew that your backstage space was just as messy as theirs?
The outside may beautiful - but may it only be a reflection of what's inside.
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