The Mask Nobody Asked You to Put On — But Everybody Expected You to Wear
"We wear the mask that grins and lies,
It hides our cheeks and shades our eyes—
With torn and bleeding hearts we smile..."
Paul Laurence Dunbar wrote those words in 1895. He was a Black poet writing about the exhaustion of performing okay for a world that never stopped to ask if you were.
But here's the thing... You don't have to be a Black poet living in 1895 to know exactly what he meant.
You know the mask… The "I'm fine" when you're anything but. The smile at school pickup after crying the whole drive there. The "We're good" when everything is being held together by sheer determination — and that particular stubbornness women have learned to call strength.
The competent employee. The patient mom. The supportive wife. The dependable friend. The woman who keeps everyone else's world from falling apart while quietly wondering who would notice if hers did. You've worn the mask for so long you may have forgotten what your own face feels like without it.
But here's what I know about masks… They were never God's idea. The first mask in Scripture wasn't made of fabric. It was made of fig leaves.
The moment shame entered the Garden, Adam and Eve covered themselves. Not because God told them to… but because shame convinced them they had to hide.
Isn't that what we still do? We cover. We compensate. We perform. We hide behind success, busyness, perfectionism, humor, independence, people-pleasing… even good things… hoping no one notices the places where we feel afraid, inadequate, lonely, or overwhelmed.
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 God who created them knew exactly where they were. It was an invitation to come out of hiding.
Come back to Me… That is still His invitation today. Not "How are you holding it all together?" or "Why can't you just be stronger?" But simply…
Where are you? Where is your heart?
Because before there were responsibilities, expectations, or all the roles you carry… There was a garden. There was communion. There was a woman fully known and fully loved by her Creator. The Father's first desire has never been your performance. It has always been your presence.
Maybe that's why you're so tired. Not because life is hard, although it is. But because masks are heavy, and they were never meant to become part of your identity.
The beautiful news of the Gospel isn't that God is waiting for you to finally get it together. It's that He comes looking for you while you are still hiding. Jesus did what fig leaves never could. He covered our shame. He carried our sin. He made a way for us to come back into the Father's presence. Not because we've earned it, but because He loves us.
The Shepherd of Psalm 23 is still asking His daughters to come close. To lie down. To be led beside still waters. To let Him restore their souls.
Maybe today isn't about becoming a better version of yourself — but becoming the woman who no longer has to hide.
Take the mask off. Not for Instagram. Not for everyone around you.
For Him…
Because the Shepherd cannot restore the woman hiding behind the mask. He restores the daughter who comes honestly into His presence.
The Psalm 23 Woman isn't the woman who has everything together. She's the woman who knows where to go when everything falls apart. She comes home to the Shepherd. Again, and again, and again. And there, in His presence, she discovers she never needed the mask in the first place.