Unveiled

Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate.
Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure.
– Nelson Mandela

How would it feel, I wonder, to be a stone jar, holding twenty gallons of water (the size of my aquatic turtle’s tank), and experience an explosive force transforming everything inside me? How does one contain such power?

What sensations might I be aware of, if I were a clay jar with a flame inside? When the moment came, would I surrender my insecurities to shatter in a thousand pieces, my torch blazing courage while willing hearts blew Reveille, proclaiming oppression’s defeat to my family and country?

Exactly what do I accomplish when I drag my uncertainties through my neighborhood, workplace, or Wal-Mart, careful to set everyone straight, not just in words, but by my shoulders’ droop and the scuff of my step, "I’m just a jar, you know, nothing special here"?

It’s true, if you only look at me, you might well miss the brightness. We carry this precious Message around in the unadorned clay pots of our ordinary lives. That's to prevent anyone from confusing God's incomparable power with us.

But make no mistake, the force inside is all-surpassing, powerful beyond measure. Strong enough to slake the world’s thirst with a joyful exuberance beyond mere water, blazing enough to break a tyrant’s grasp on the communities we love.

For eons, condemnation held glory captive, veiled, Rapunzel in her tower. Like the dwelling (you could hardly call it a home) we saw once in the Colorado mountains, no neighbors near, and no neighborliness either, barbed wire fence adorned with bullet-riddled cans, draped animal skins, and a four-by-six-foot sign proclaiming "The Law allows us to shoot trespassers on sight." Pretty scary stuff, like Numbers 11 and 16. If you see somebody climbing the fence, stand back.

That’s how it had to be, until one Friday, when Love’s clay jar shattered, mangled beyond comprehension, and simultaneously a four-inch-thick veil ripped wide, exposing the heart of God. Revealing the plans He'd cherished all along, to bathe our street dirt off and set us on the thrones of Cair Paravel. Once a king or queen in His Kingdom, always so.

With that in mind, don't focus on the unworthiness of your clay jar. Mandela added, "Your playing small doesn't serve the world." Do not call anything impure that God has made clean. Including yourself.

Instead, let the glory we hold be a spotlight for His dance. Provide people with a glimpse of good living and of the living God. Carry the light-giving Message into the night, bringing out the God-colors in the world. God’s glory and power inside me and you is not a secret to be kept. Go public! Don't hide under a bucket.

In responding to Nelson Mandela’s quote, John Eldredge wrote, "I realized we do fear our glory....because once we let others see it, they will see the truest us, and that is nakedness indeed."

My artistic friend took creations to a craft fair. Her neighbors oohed and aahed, did you do all these yourself? She wrote to me, "I felt they were seeing the real me for the first time." Unveiled. Our truest God-given glory, exposed, off the shelf, sleeves rolled up and ready to work.

Whenever we turn to face God (in any previously unexplored aspect of our souls), the veil comes off and there we are--face to face! We're free – all of us! Nothing between us and God, our faces shining with the brightness of his face, Rapunzel letting down our hair for the King of Glory to come in. And we, who with unveiled faces all reflect the Lord's glory, are transfigured much like the Messiah, our lives gradually becoming brighter and more beautiful as God enters our lives and we become like him. Naked and unashamed.

And that is why we call this Friday good.