No Masks Needed: The Scariest Thing Is Living Without Knowing Jesus
October is here.
There is something about this time of year that makes everything feel a little different.
Pumpkins begin appearing on front porches. Fall decorations fill the stores. Costumes hang from racks. Candy fills entire aisles. Scary movies return to television, and masks seem to be everywhere.
For one night, people can put on a costume, cover their faces, and pretend to be somebody—or something—completely different.
But as I thought about October and what I wanted to share with you this month, I kept coming back to one word:
Masks.
Not necessarily the masks you buy at a store.
I’m talking about the masks you can’t see.
The masks we sometimes put on before walking into church.
The masks we put on before visiting family.
The masks we wear around friends.
The masks we put on before posting something online.
Sometimes, we even put on masks around the people who know us best.
There’s the mask that says:
“I’m okay.”
There’s the mask that says:
“I’m strong.”
There’s the mask that says:
“That didn’t hurt me.”
There’s the mask that says:
“I’m not worried.”
There’s the mask that says:
“My relationship with God is great.”
And then there’s the one I think many Christians have worn at some point:
“I’ve got everything together.”
We smile.
We say we’re blessed.
We quote Scripture.
We encourage everybody else.
We show up to church.
We post the Bible verse.
We tell people God is good.
And God is good.
But sometimes underneath all of that, we’re hurting.
Sometimes we’re scared.
Sometimes we’re disappointed.
Sometimes we’re angry.
Sometimes we’re questioning why God allowed something to happen.
Sometimes we’re wondering whether He hears us at all.
And sometimes we feel guilty admitting those things because we think Christians are supposed to have everything figured out.
But throughout my own journey with Jesus, I’ve learned something important:
You don’t need a mask with Him.
Jesus already knows the person underneath it.
Jesus Knows the Real You
Psalm 139:1 says:
“O LORD, thou hast searched me, and known me.”
Think about those words.
God knows you.
Not just your name.
Not just your birthday.
Not just where you live.
He knows you.
He knows the person everybody sees, but He also knows the person nobody sees.
He knows what happens after everybody goes home.
He knows what you’re thinking when the room gets quiet.
He knows what you’re worried about when you lie down at night.
He knows the prayer you’ve prayed a hundred times.
He knows the prayer you’re afraid to pray.
He knows the disappointment you haven’t told anyone about.
He knows the conversation that hurt you.
He knows the rejection you’re still trying to understand.
He knows the dream you’ve barely told anyone because you’re afraid people won’t understand it.
He knows the things you’re proud of.
He knows the things you regret.
He knows the parts of your story you wish you could erase.
He knows the chapters you still don’t understand.
And He knows the chapters that haven’t even been written yet.
You might be able to hide some of those things from people.
You cannot hide them from God.
But that shouldn’t frighten us.
For those who come to Him, it’s actually one of the most comforting truths we can understand.
You don’t have to hide.
God knows the real you.
And He is still inviting you to come closer.
I’ve Worn the “I’m Okay” Mask
When I talk about masks, I’m not standing on the outside looking in.
I’ve worn them too.
One of the biggest masks I’ve worn throughout different seasons of my life is the “I’m okay” mask.
Growing up with cerebral palsy and using a wheelchair meant that people sometimes saw my disability before they saw me.
They saw the wheelchair.
They saw something different.
They saw what they believed were limitations.
Sometimes people saw what I couldn’t do before they ever took the time to discover what I could do.
But they didn’t automatically see Tylia.
They didn’t see the girl who loved writing.
They didn’t see the dreams inside of me.
They didn’t see the faith that would continue developing.
They didn’t see the books.
They didn’t see the ministry.
They didn’t see the pastor.
They didn’t see the woman who would eventually use her experiences to encourage other people.
And honestly, when I was a little girl, I couldn’t see all of that either.
I didn’t know where God was going to take my story.
There is one experience from my childhood that has stayed with me for years.
When I was around ten years old, I was removed from Catholic religious education because my disability caused me to be considered a “liability.”
I was a little girl who wanted to learn about God.
I wanted to participate.
I wanted to belong.
I wanted the same opportunity other children had.
Yet something about me that I couldn’t change became the reason I was made to feel as though there wasn’t a place for me.
When you’re a child, you might not have all the words to explain what something like that does to you.
You might not understand discrimination.
You might not understand accessibility.
You might not understand inclusion.
But you understand one thing very clearly:
I wasn’t allowed to belong.
And that hurts.
Sometimes Hurt Teaches Us to Hide
Sometimes when you’ve been hurt enough, you learn to protect yourself.
You learn how to smile.
You learn how to keep going.
You learn how to tell everybody:
“I’m okay.”
And maybe part of you believes that if you say it enough times, eventually you’ll feel okay too.
That’s what masks can do.
They protect what’s underneath.
But they can also keep what’s underneath from ever being dealt with.
My mask said:
I’m okay.
It doesn’t bother me.
I’ll just keep moving forward.
But underneath that mask were questions.
God, where do I belong?
Is there really a place for somebody like me in Your church?
Can You use someone who uses a wheelchair?
Does my disability change what You can call me to do?
Do people see my wheelchair before they see the person You created?
At ten years old, I couldn’t see the entire story.
I couldn’t see what God was preparing.
I couldn’t see how He might eventually use some of the very experiences that hurt me.
But God could.
Jesus Never Called Me a Liability
Years later, I can look back at that little girl with a completely different perspective.
The girl who was made to feel like a liability would eventually become a Christian author.
She would write stories where faith mattered.
She would create characters with disabilities who could fall in love, dream, serve God, and have meaningful lives.
She would talk openly about disability inclusion.
She would encourage churches to recognize the gifts of disabled Christians.
And she would become a pastor.
I couldn’t see any of that when I was ten.
But God could.
And somewhere along my journey, I realized something that has become incredibly important to me:
Jesus never treated me like a liability.
People might look at a wheelchair and decide what they think somebody can or cannot accomplish.
Jesus sees His child.
People may see limitations.
Jesus sees purpose.
People may see inconvenience.
Jesus sees a person created in the image of God.
People might decide you don’t fit their definition of who belongs.
Jesus still calls you to Him.
And that’s why this quote has become such an important summary of what I’ve learned:
“People may see my wheelchair and decide what they think I can do, but Jesus has never measured my calling by my disability. I may have worn a mask and said I was okay when rejection hurt me, but God saw behind that mask. He saw my purpose before I could see it for myself.”
— Pastor Tylia L. Flores
God saw behind my mask.
And He sees behind yours.
Disability Does Not Disqualify Your Calling
I want to stop here for a moment because somebody with a disability may be reading this.
Maybe you’ve been made to feel like you’re an inconvenience.
Maybe someone talked to the person beside you instead of talking directly to you.
Maybe somebody assumed you couldn’t understand something.
Maybe you’ve entered a church and discovered there was no accessible way for you to participate.
Maybe you’ve been included socially but never invited to serve.
Maybe people have prayed for you but never thought about praying with you.
Maybe people see you as someone who needs ministry but never consider the possibility that God has called you to minister to others.
Please hear me:
Your disability does not disqualify you from having a calling.
First Corinthians 12 describes believers as members of one body.
The Body of Christ needs its members.
That includes Christians with disabilities.
Some people will preach.
Some will teach.
Some will write.
Some will pray.
Some will encourage.
Some will serve quietly behind the scenes.
Some will advocate.
Some will create.
Some will simply be faithful witnesses to Jesus wherever God has placed them.
Our abilities may look different.
Our methods may look different.
Our bodies may work differently.
But our value doesn’t come from how closely we resemble everybody else.
Our value comes from the God who created us.
And our calling belongs to Him.
Churches Need to Look Behind the Mask Too
There’s another side to this conversation.
Sometimes churches unintentionally create environments where people feel like they need masks.
Someone walks through the church doors and immediately feels like they have to appear okay.
So they smile.
They shake hands.
They sing.
They listen to the sermon.
Then they go home carrying the exact same pain they walked in with because they never felt safe enough to say:
“I’m struggling.”
Church should be a place where truth can be spoken.
We should be able to celebrate victories together.
But we should also be able to sit beside someone who’s hurting.
We should be able to say, “I don’t know what to do,” without immediately being treated like we don’t have faith.
We should be able to ask questions.
We should be able to admit we’re afraid.
And people with disabilities should be able to enter our churches without wondering whether they’re going to be treated like a burden.
Jesus didn’t build His ministry around people who had everything together.
Read the Gospels.
People came to Jesus hurting.
They came confused.
They came sick.
They came grieving.
They came ashamed.
They came rejected.
They came desperate.
They came with questions.
And Jesus met people where they were.
The Church should strive to do the same.
What Mask Are You Wearing?
Maybe disability isn’t part of your story.
But I wonder if you’re wearing a mask too.
Maybe your mask says:
“My marriage is fine.”
Maybe it says:
“I’m not lonely.”
Maybe it’s:
“I don’t care what they said about me.”
Maybe you’ve been pretending you’re not worried about money.
Maybe you’re smiling while you’re grieving.
Maybe you’re afraid of losing someone.
Maybe you’re worried about your future.
Maybe you’re waiting for an answer from God that hasn’t come yet.
Maybe you don’t understand why a relationship ended.
Maybe you’re struggling with forgiveness.
Maybe you’re disappointed in yourself.
Maybe you’ve been encouraging everybody else while privately wondering who is going to encourage you.
Or maybe your mask is spiritual.
You know how to talk like a Christian.
You know when to say “Amen.”
You know the songs.
You know the Bible stories.
You know the church vocabulary.
But deep inside, something feels empty.
Maybe you’ve spent years knowing about Jesus without truly knowing Him.
And that brings me to what I believe is the most important part of this entire message.
The Scariest Thing Isn’t Halloween
October gives us plenty of opportunities to talk about fear.
Ghosts.
Monsters.
Haunted houses.
Scary movies.
Darkness.
People spend money during this season specifically because they enjoy being frightened.
But when I think about eternity, those aren’t the things that concern me most.
The thought that concerns me is someone spending an entire lifetime knowing about Jesus without ever personally knowing Him.
There’s a difference.
You can know the Christmas story.
You can know Easter celebrates the resurrection.
You can own multiple Bibles.
You can listen to Christian music.
You can follow pastors online.
You can repost Bible verses.
You can attend church.
You can volunteer.
You can know Christian terminology.
You can even call yourself a Christian.
But none of those things should replace the most important question:
Do you know Jesus Christ?
Not:
Do your parents know Him?
Not:
Does your grandmother know Him?
Not:
Do you attend church?
Not:
Were you raised Christian?
The question is personal.
Do you know Jesus?
Christianity Isn’t a Costume
A costume can make you look like something for a few hours.
But wearing the costume doesn’t make you that person.
And Christianity isn’t supposed to be a costume we put on when it’s convenient.
Jesus isn’t something we wear on Sunday and hang back in the closet Monday morning.
Following Jesus affects how we live.
How we love.
How we forgive.
How we treat people.
How we respond when life doesn’t go our way.
How we treat the person society ignores.
How we treat someone with a disability.
How we behave when nobody is watching.
Faith isn’t supposed to be another mask.
It’s supposed to transform what’s underneath it.
Jesus Is the Way
Jesus says in John 14:6:
“I am the way, the truth, and the life: no man cometh unto the Father, but by me.”
Those are strong words.
Jesus didn’t say He was a way.
He said:
“I am the way.”
Jesus came because humanity has a sin problem we cannot solve ourselves.
He lived.
He went to the cross.
He died for our sins.
And He rose again.
Because of Jesus, forgiveness is possible.
Because of Jesus, reconciliation with God is possible.
Because of Jesus, eternal life is possible.
That’s why I say:
The scariest thing isn’t Halloween.
The scariest thing is living your entire life without truly knowing Jesus.
You Don’t Have to Fix Yourself First
Maybe you’re reading this and thinking:
Tylia, you don’t know what I’ve done.
You’re right.
I don’t.
But God does.
Maybe you think:
I’ve made too many mistakes.
God wouldn’t want me.
I’ll come to Jesus when I clean up my life.
I’ll start going to church once I get myself together.
I’m not good enough to be a Christian.
Here’s the truth:
None of us are good enough to save ourselves.
That’s why we need Jesus.
Romans 5:8 says:
“But God commendeth his love toward us, in that, while we were yet sinners, Christ died for us.”
While we were sinners.
Not after we became perfect.
Not after we learned every Bible verse.
Not after we fixed every problem.
Not after we became respectable enough for church.
Jesus came for sinners.
That includes me.
That includes you.
The Gospel isn’t about pretending you’re perfect.
The Gospel is about admitting that you need a Savior.
And His name is Jesus.
Another Mask: “I’m Not Afraid”
Christians sometimes wear another mask:
“I’m not afraid.”
We can convince ourselves that admitting fear means our faith isn’t strong enough.
But faith doesn’t mean you’ll never feel fear.
Second Timothy 1:7 says:
“For God hath not given us the spirit of fear; but of power, and of love, and of a sound mind.”
Maybe you’re afraid of your future.
Maybe you’re afraid of rejection.
Maybe you’re afraid of being alone.
Maybe you’re worried about finances.
Maybe you’re afraid your dreams aren’t going to happen.
Maybe you’re worried about your family.
Maybe you’re entering a new season you didn’t choose.
Maybe you’re living with a disability and wondering whether people will ever look beyond it.
Maybe God has placed something on your heart that seems completely impossible.
I’ve had chapters in my life where I couldn’t understand how the pieces were going to fit together.
But God could see what I couldn’t.
Faith doesn’t mean fear never knocks.
Faith means fear doesn’t get the final word.
Jesus does.
Your Pain May Become Part of Your Purpose
One of the things my own story has taught me is that God can use experiences we never would have chosen.
I wouldn’t choose rejection.
I wouldn’t choose being made to feel like a liability.
I wouldn’t choose moments when people underestimated me because of my disability.
But God can take painful chapters and use them.
That doesn’t mean the pain was good.
It means God is good enough to bring purpose even from things that hurt.
Today, when I advocate for disability inclusion in Christian spaces, I’m speaking from experience.
When I write disabled characters into stories, I’m writing from a place of understanding what representation means.
When I tell someone with a disability that they have a place in the Body of Christ, I’m not saying it because it sounds nice.
I’m saying it because there was once a little girl who needed someone to tell her the same thing.
And maybe that’s one reason you’re reading this today.
Maybe something you’ve survived will eventually become part of how God encourages somebody else through you.
You may not see it yet.
I didn’t either.
But God sees farther down the road than we do.
Take Off the Mask
So this October, while people everywhere are putting masks on, I want to challenge you to do something different.
Take yours off.
I’m not talking about a costume.
I’m talking about the invisible mask you’ve been carrying.
Take it off before Jesus.
Tell Him:
I’m scared.
I’m angry.
I’m confused.
I’m hurting.
I’m lonely.
I’m disappointed.
I’m struggling.
I don’t understand.
I’m tired of pretending.
Jesus, I need You.
Maybe nobody else knows what you’ve been carrying.
Jesus does.
Maybe nobody else understands why something hurt so much.
Jesus does.
Maybe nobody else understands your dreams.
Jesus does.
Maybe everybody around you thinks you’re doing great.
Jesus knows what’s really happening.
You don’t have to hide from Him.
Do You Know Jesus?
If you’ve read this far and realized that you know about Jesus but you’re not sure you’ve ever personally placed your faith in Him, I want you to know that you can come to Him.
Romans 10:9 says:
“That if thou shalt confess with thy mouth the Lord Jesus, and shalt believe in thine heart that God hath raised him from the dead, thou shalt be saved.”
Salvation isn’t about wearing the right Christian mask.
It isn’t about pretending you’re perfect.
It isn’t about your physical abilities.
It isn’t about your background.
It isn’t about your education.
It isn’t about having the perfect testimony.
It’s about Jesus.
Come honestly.
Come with the questions.
Come with the mistakes.
Come with the broken pieces.
Come with the parts you’re ashamed of.
Come with the mask in your hand.
And give your life to Jesus.
A Prayer
Lord Jesus,
I’m tired of hiding.
You already know everything behind my mask.
You know my sins.
You know my mistakes.
You know my fears.
You know my disappointments.
You know my questions.
You know my struggles.
You know every part of my story.
Thank You for loving me.
Thank You for going to the cross for my sins.
Thank You for rising again.
Please forgive me.
Help me turn away from sin and follow You.
I put my faith in You, and I ask You to lead my life.
When I’m afraid, remind me that You are greater than my fear.
When I feel like I need to pretend, remind me that You already know the real me.
When people don’t understand me, remind me that You do.
When someone tries to tell me what I cannot do, remind me that my calling comes from You.
When I feel like I don’t belong, remind me that I belong to You.
Help me live authentically for You—not just on Sundays, but every day.
Use my story.
Use my gifts.
Use even the chapters I wish had been different.
Let my life point people toward You.
In Jesus’ name,
Amen.
No Masks Needed
This October, you’re going to see plenty of masks.
Every time you see one, I hope you’ll remember this message.
You don’t need one with Jesus.
He sees you.
He knows you.
He knows your weaknesses.
He knows your abilities.
He knows your failures.
He knows your victories.
He knows your fears.
He knows your calling.
He knows your past.
And He knows the future He’s leading you toward.
The little girl who was once made to feel like a liability couldn’t see everything God was going to do with her story.
But Jesus could.
Today, I can look back and realize that God was writing a story I couldn’t understand yet.
And whatever chapter you’re living through right now, He can see beyond yours too.
First John 4:18 says:
“There is no fear in love; but perfect love casteth out fear.”
So don’t spend your life hiding behind a mask.
Come to Jesus.
Let Him see the hurt.
Let Him hear the questions.
Give Him your fear.
Give Him your disappointment.
Give Him the rejection.
Give Him your dreams.
Give Him the real you.
Because He already sees you.
He already knows you.
And He loves you.
The scariest thing isn’t what’s hiding behind a Halloween mask. It’s spending your whole life hiding behind one and never truly knowing the Savior who already knows the real you.
Take off the mask.
Come to Jesus.
And let Him show you who you were created to be.
Stay Connected
Thank you for spending part of your day with me here at TyliaFlores.com.
Every time I write something like this, my prayer isn’t simply that you finish another blog post. I pray that something you read encourages you to think about your relationship with Jesus, reminds you that your story has purpose, and helps you understand that God can use you exactly where you are.
If you’re living with a disability, I especially want you to remember this:
You are not a liability to the Kingdom of God.
You have gifts.
You have purpose.
You have a voice.
And you have a place within the Body of Christ.
If you’ve experienced rejection, don’t allow somebody else’s inability to recognize your purpose to convince you that God hasn’t given you one.
Keep seeking Him.
Keep praying.
Keep growing.
And keep becoming the person He created you to be.
📚 Read My Books on Amazon
Explore my Christian fiction and inspirational books featuring faith, love, disability representation, everyday life, and characters learning what it means to keep Jesus at the center of their stories.
Through my writing, I want readers—especially readers who don’t always see themselves represented—to encounter characters with dreams, relationships, struggles, faith, and purpose.
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Join me on YouTube for sermons, biblical encouragement, conversations about faith and disability, ministry messages, and reminders that God can use every part of your story for His glory.
✝️ Stay Connected With My Ministry
Follow my ministry journey as I continue sharing the Gospel of Jesus Christ and advocating for greater disability inclusion within Christian communities.
One message I hope to continue sharing is simple:
People with disabilities aren’t only people the Church can minister to. We can also be people God calls to minister.
We can teach.
We can write.
We can preach.
We can encourage.
We can pray.
We can lead.
We can serve.
And we can share Jesus.
Stay Connected
Thank you for spending part of your day with me here at TyliaFlores.com.
Every time I write something like this, my prayer isn’t simply that you finish another blog post. I pray that something you read encourages you to think about your relationship with Jesus, reminds you that your story has purpose, and helps you understand that God can use you exactly where you are.
If you’re living with a disability, I especially want you to remember this:
You are not a liability to the Kingdom of God.
You have gifts.
You have purpose.
You have a voice.
And you have a place within the Body of Christ.
If you’ve experienced rejection, don’t allow somebody else’s inability to recognize your purpose to convince you that God hasn’t given you one.
Keep seeking Him.
Keep praying.
Keep growing.
And keep becoming the person He created you to be.
📚 Read My Books on Amazon
Explore my Christian fiction and inspirational books featuring faith, love, disability representation, everyday life, and characters learning what it means to keep Jesus at the center of their stories.
Through my writing, I want readers—especially readers who don’t always see themselves represented—to encounter characters with dreams, relationships, struggles, faith, and purpose.
Amazon Author Page:
https://www.amazon.com/stores/author/B0B3Y83ZJ5?ccs_id=bda1cd89-d2ea-44c8-a5c3-9b0ba53bf0a4
🎥 Subscribe to My YouTube Channel
Join me on YouTube for sermons, biblical encouragement, conversations about faith and disability, ministry messages, and reminders that God can use every part of your story for His glory.
Pastor Tylia L. Flores on YouTube:
https://www.youtube.com/@PastorTyliaL.Flores
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Website:
https://tyliaflores.com/
And wherever we connect, remember:
“People may see my wheelchair and decide what they think I can do, but Jesus has never measured my calling by my disability. I may have worn a mask and said I was okay when rejection hurt me, but God saw behind that mask. He saw my purpose before I could see it for myself.”
— Pastor Tylia L. Flores
Keep Jesus at the center.
Keep walking by faith.
Don’t let somebody else’s limitations for your life become your limitations for what God can do through you.
And when the world tells you to hide the parts of your story that make you different, remember:
No masks are needed with Jesus.
Until next time,
Pastor Tylia L. Flores
