If “I’m fine” is your church mask, this is your invitation to take it off and start healing.

Take off the mask

Tell me if you have heard this one before:

“Hey, Good morning! How are you?”

“Better than I deserve. How are you?”

“I’m good. Thanks.”

End scene…

This riveting conversation is probably one of the most common dialogues on Sunday mornings. It is not evil, but it is shallow. The problem is that many of us never leave the shallow end. We learn how to belong by pretending, by wearing a mask.

I saw this clearly in seminary. We had a strong mix of Southerners and Africans, which meant we had both over-the-top Christian politeness and blunt honesty in the same hallways. For most of us, “How are you?” was not a real question. It was a greeting. You said, “I am fine,” whether you were fine or not.

But for many of our African students, it was a real question. You answered honestly. One day at lunch, a friend named Fred finally said what everyone was thinking. “Why do you ask how I am doing if you do not want to know?”

I tried to explain it away. “It is just how we greet each other.”

Then Fred leaned in and said, “But I am not doing alright. It is cold and grey. I miss home. The work is harder than I imagined. I am miserable. I want to talk about it.”

His honesty stuck with me because it exposed something in me. Fred wanted to take off the mask. I did not know if I had the courage to do the same.

I think that is the real issue. It is not that we are too busy to go deeper. It is that we are afraid. Afraid of being seen. Afraid that if people knew what we were carrying, we would be treated differently.

It is easier to keep on the mask of  “Fine,” “Good,” and “Blessed.”  It is hard to say the true words: “Lonely,” “Ashamed,” “Stuck,” “Angry,” “Numb,” “I am struggling in my marriage,” “I feel far from God,” and the list goes on.

I’m not saying our lives have to always be a wreck, but I am saying this: if you cannot be honest, you cannot be healed. You cannot get help for what you keep hidden.

John Ortberg makes this point in his book, Steps. In one section, he writes:

Writer Philip Yancey noted that when he first attended an AA meeting in solidarity with a friend, he was overwhelmed by finding what felt like a New Testament church. Millionaires and celebrities mixed freely with unemployed dropouts and needle-marked gang members. Radical honesty, welcome, and dependency seemed to rule the day.

Over the years, this observation has been made by too many Christian writers and preachers to count… Why Can’t the Church Be More like an AA Meeting? The short answer is that it can, as long as the people who attend it are willing to be more like alcoholics. Too desperate to hide, too humbled to judge; too weak to solo, too needy to skip (Steps, Pg. 6).

Those are not words we want: desperate, humble, weak, and needy. But Jesus says those are exactly the kind of people He came for: “Those who are well have no need of a physician, but those who are sick. I came not to call the righteous, but sinners” (Mark 2.17).

Who is so put together that they do not need Christ? The answer is Nobody. But some people think or act like they are. So, they hide their sins and failures and needs behind a mask. Jesus can do very little with that, because He is not interested in treating the version of you that you are performing. He wants to heal the real you.

Let’s pause here for a moment. As I have done previously, at this point, I need to speak to two different camps of readers. Ironically, you will find yourself in both camps at one point or another.

To the one who needs to take off the mask,

If you bring your need to Jesus, the way a sick person lays out symptoms to a doctor, He can heal you. But if you hide your need from Jesus, you hide yourself from healing. You cannot be helped with a wound you keep covered.

Think about going to the doctor. If you tell the doctor what is really going on, even if it is embarrassing, the doc can usually help you. But the doctor cannot treat what you will not show.

The church is meant to be that kind of place. James says, “Confess your sins to one another and pray for one another, that you may be healed” (James 5.16). God often heals us through His people. Not because people are the savior, but because Jesus uses His body to care for the body.

The first time I heard this idea, I did not like it. It sounded unsafe. The last thing I wanted was a bunch of churchy people staring, giving bad advice I did not ask for, or judging me. But what I’ve discovered is that when people truly throw themselves on the mercy of Jesus, Jesus changes them. And changed people become safer people. Not perfect people. But humbler people. Kinder people. People who know they need grace too.

Scripture says, “If we walk in the light, as he is in the light, we have fellowship with one another, and the blood of Jesus his Son cleanses us from all sin” (1 John 1.7). Darkness is where we hide. Light is where the truth is revealed and healing is received.

To the church, inviting the one to take off the mask,

When someone takes a risk and shares something real, your response matters more than you think. The right response is not shock. It is not disgust. It is not a lecture. The right response is something like, “I understand. Me too. Thank you for trusting me.” Even if your story is not the same, you know what it is like to be weak, afraid, ashamed, or stuck. Nobody in the church stands above anyone else. We stand beside each other.

And when someone opens up, our first move should not be, “Here are five steps to fix your life.” We are not the physician – Jesus is. We are patients too. Therefore, our role is to walk with them to Jesus, to pray for and with them, and remind them they are not alone. Advice might come later. But presence comes first.

Over time, Jesus changes how we see people. We stop treating them like problems to manage. We start seeing them as image-bearers with dignity. That is why Scripture says, “Outdo one another in showing honor” (Romans 12.10). Honor is not pretending someone is perfect. Honor is guarding their story. Refusing gossip. Speaking gently. Staying close.

This is what it means to walk in the light. It is honest. It is humble. It is safe. And it is how Jesus brings healing and belonging into His church.

Next steps

Take off the mask in one small way. Tell Jesus the truth about what you are carrying, and then take the step of trusting a brother or sister in Christ with who you really are beneath the mask. And if someone takes off the mask with you, do not try to fix them. Stay present, pray, and help carry a corner of the burden.

If we do that, our church will become more than a place where people are greeted. It will become a place where people are known. When the light gets in, healing begins, and belonging stops being something we just talk about and becomes something we practice.

Fr. Chase