Some are satin some are steel, Some are silk and some are leather They're the faces of the stranger…
Billy Joel, The Stranger
I work in a city with men of silk and leather. Brokenness hides in many guises while parading around as normal. Sometime strutting flamboyantly the brokenness is no different than the brokenness we all encounter in ourselves. Against that backdrop of hiddenness and black it seems beauty would make a difference.
I think of the one who is beauty in fullness. How is it that we are not drawn out of our frail and fake covering into relationship with Him? How is it that in hiding our scars we are not drawn to Him that hid nothing? Why would we not be drawn to touch that heals not touch that degrades? How is it that we don’t turn and worship?
I have no easy answer. I know the joy of living shame free. I know the touch of one that loves me unconditionally. I know the voice of one that called to me in the fullness of my gender, in the certainty of my sexuality. Why turn from Him who is all we really want?
My heart cries at times. Other times I hide behind my own walls and wear my own mask. If I am still and walking in Spirit I long for Him to touch others in their brokenness and bring them into reality. More come to the masquerade daily. They celebrate in the streets. They speak of love and deny Him who loved them with His life; loved me with that life. How do they miss Christ?