The Mask Ministry Taught Me to Wear
Paul Laurence Dunbar wrote it in 1895, and it is still true today:
We wear the mask that grins and lies,
It hides our cheeks and shades our eyes—
With torn and bleeding hearts we smile...
I read that poem and felt seen in a way that made me uncomfortable… Because I know that mask. I wore it for years in ministry.
And here's the thing that can be uncomfortable to admit... It wasn't that ministry itself created the mask. Ministry is a beautiful calling. It is one of the ways God allows us to participate in His work of redemption. But somewhere along the journey, something quietly shifted in me. Without realizing it, I began confusing my service for my identity.
The expectations grew. The needs multiplied. People depended on me. There was always another conversation to have, another event to plan, another woman to encourage, another crisis to navigate. And slowly, almost imperceptibly, I learned how to keep showing up even when my own soul was running on empty.
The smile stayed… The answers came… The Bible studies were prepared… The prayers sounded sincere… But underneath all of it, I was exhausted — not because ministry is inherently exhausting, but because I had begun carrying things God never asked me to carry.
Somewhere along the way, pleasing people became tangled with pleasing God. Faithfulness quietly gave way to performance. My value became connected to what I could produce instead of Whose I was. Ministry became something to maintain rather than a place from which I overflowed. The work for God slowly overshadowed my life with God.
That wasn't the Gospel.
The Gospel never asks us to prove our worth. It never tells us to hide our weakness. It never invites us to build our identity on being the dependable one, the wise one, the strong one, or the woman who always has it together.
Jesus invites us to come as we are… To abide before we serve… To receive before we give… To remain in Him before we ever attempt to bear fruit.
Looking back, I don't believe the mask was born because ministry was unhealthy. I believe it was born in the quiet places of my own heart, where fear of disappointing people, the desire to be needed, and subtle forms of self-reliance slowly crowded out simple dependence on Christ. At times ministry culture unknowingly rewarded those things, applauding constant availability while quietly overlooking the condition of the soul.
That's why this conversation matters… Because I know there are women reading these words who love Jesus deeply. They aren't trying to be hypocrites. They aren't trying to deceive anyone. They're simply tired. They've forgotten what it feels like to minister from rest instead of striving, from intimacy instead of insecurity, from identity instead of performance.
If that's you, hear this gently… You don't have to keep wearing the mask. The Shepherd who called you into ministry never asked you to lose yourself in it. He has always been far more interested in your heart than your performance.
Adam and Eve reached for fig leaves the moment shame entered the garden. Isn't that what we still do?
We cover. We compensate. We perform. We hide behind competence, titles, ministry, theology, busyness — even good things — hoping no one notices the places where we feel afraid, inadequate, or exposed.
But God came looking for them anyway. Not for the version stitched together with fig leaves. For them.
"Where are you?" — Genesis 3:9
It wasn't a question of location. The Creator of the universe knew exactly where they were. It was an invitation. Come out of hiding. Come back to Me.
I wonder if that is the question the Shepherd is still asking His daughters today. Not, "What have you accomplished?" or "How successful is your ministry?" But simply…
Where are you?
Not physically… Relationally. Spiritually… Where is your heart?
Because before there was a platform, there was a garden. Before there was ministry, there was communion. Before there was serving, there was walking with God in the cool of the day.
The Father's first desire has never been your productivity. It has always been your presence.
This is not another invitation to become a better ministry leader. It is an invitation to return to the Garden. To the place where you no longer have to hide behind the version everyone admires. Where your value isn't found in what you carry, but in the One who carries you. Where you are loved before you ever lead. Where your soul can finally exhale.
The Garden is where the mask comes off. Not for the congregation. Not for social media. Not even for the people who know you best.
For Him…
Because the Shepherd who restores your soul cannot restore the version of you hidden behind fig leaves. He restores the daughter who steps out of hiding and into His presence.
Maybe that's where your ministry begins again. Not on a platform. But in the Garden. Walking with the Father.
Unapologetically His.