The Man Behind the Curtain
Date: Saturday, June 30 @ 12:23:06 MST
Topic: Religion



I am a backpacking gear addict. I admit it. I have the latest and the best and the coolest of tents, sleeping bags, stoves, you name it. It’s my only addiction, so I am not very concerned. It’s really not a problem, and I am not in any denial. It’s good for me. Everybody else is doing it. I can quit whenever I want.

Okay, so I have a problem. I have a watch that tells me what elevation I am at, what the barometer has done for the last 24 hours, what the temperature is, and what direction I am heading. And it even tells time! It is the coolest thing, and it really meets all my deepest of needs. It truly makes me happy. So does the wicking, quick drying, won’t stink, guaranteed for life, half zip t-shirt I hike in. I would be a lesser person without it. I have a 1.3 oz knife, a carbon fiber tent pole, and hiking boots that only weigh a pound a piece. I am a complete man.

I wonder though, in the darkest part of the night, who I would be without my things. I pride myself as being an expert in the woods. I have done it for 30 years and know all the tricks of the trade. I have a lot of skills and knowledge and expertise that has become part of me. But there is a part of me that leans heavily on the gismos to make me look more expert or appear more knowledgeable. I wonder sometimes what would be left if I were stripped down to nothing.

There seems to be two answers inside of me as I ponder. The first is that I wouldn’t be all that I thought I was. Maybe most of me is hidden behind the facade of all that I have propped up in front of the real me. One of my favorite scenes in any movie ever made is found in the Wizard of Oz. Dorothy, the Tin man, the Lion, and Scarecrow have come for the second time before the great and all-powerful Oz. They are terrified as he shames them and scares them and yells at them from his fiery image high above, surrounded by flames and billows of smoke. He tells them to be silent, to go away, that they are unworthy. (Sounds like a few churches I have been to).

In the middle of the wizard’s diatribe about their badness, Dorothy’s little dog Toto pulls a side curtain open to their left that exposes a man franticly trying to pull enough levers and knobs to keep the image on the screen intimidating. As the man behind the curtain is exposed, the image on the screen says “ignore that man behind the curtain”. Then the truth comes out that the bumbling man behind the curtain is really the wizard, not so extraordinaire. Dorothy shames him by saying “you are a bad man!” to which he responds “actually I am a good man, I’m just a very bad wizard.”

I worry sometimes that I am a very bad wizard, and that that truth is the truth about me. That there is no ‘good man’ behind the images I try to hide behind. For years this has been my fear, but as my self esteem heals and I find myself loved by some extraordinary people who see past the image on a screen, I struggle less and less with this. My real fear is the second answer to the question of what would be left if I were stripped down to nothing. Because I am realizing that there really is something there. There really is expertise left when the gismos are gone. There really is a substance to my being, beyond what I am really even willing to look fully at. It scares me to see who I am and what I could really do. I don’t wonder any longer if there is anything worth while back there behind the facades of my life. I fear there is something, and it is profoundly worth while. I am afraid that there is more power and potential than I have ever imagined. And the clincher? That the substance behind the facade proves beyond any argument or shadow of doubt that there is a God still working in me and on me. The value there speaks undeniably of his existence.

So you ask “What’s so scary about knowing there is something very worth while inside of you?” Having to own up to the possible idea that there is a God who works despite me, who has never given up on me in the face of profound sinning and betrayal means that I have a purpose and a calling beyond myself. Do I have the courage to be a force in the world that calls others to account, that makes a mark; am I willing to walk a path of impact after many years of hiding behind my feelings of insignificance and my sin? What will I do when I want to feel sorry for myself and be angry and insist He has abandoned me, yet I find I can’t because of the healing he continues to bring about? If the authentic ‘me’ behind the smoke and fire is really evidence of Him, how shall I therefore live? What responsibility to live and move as a reflection of him in the world do I bear? And how shall I bear it?

I wonder if God is looking for a few people who are willing to look full in the mirror and see him standing in their shoes. I wonder if I will have the guts to stand there and take a long, honest look. And the next question is obvious – will you join me there?


© 2007 Mike & Laura Ege, Outside Edge Coaching


Mike Ege
is a life coach who challenges people who are tired of shallow, ineffective faith to go beyond the brink of what they’ve always known and ignite a spiritual journey full of adventure, purpose, and freedom. For more information or to sign up for a free email series ‘7 Radical Freedoms’, go to OutsideEdgeCoaching.com








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