“And Saul put on a disguise. He put on someone else’s clothes and he walked with two other men by night. On arriving, he said to the woman ‘Necromancer, I want you to call a spirit for me. Bring forth the one I name'” (1 Samuel 28.8) .
Growing up, one of the most exciting times of the year was when my mom would take me to K-mart in the month of October. I would walk along the aisle of costumes, the air filled with that vinyl and plastic smell, trying to decide what I should be for Halloween that year.
It was not a light decision. Your costume was who you were that year. At school and into the evening hours, you were that person, that creature, that character. And, you only had one chance each year to decide.
Saul, of course, did not go to the neighborhood store and pick out his disguise. But I imagine he put just as much thought into what he put on as I did in my school-age days. By putting on different clothes, perhaps something that covered and shadowed his face and head, he became someone else. On the journey to the necromancer’s house, he was a completely different person.
I don’t do costumes much these days; though, I consider it every October. The idea of being, for an evening, someone else is freeing. I can slip out of who I am and be someone or something else.
Funny thing about disguises like a costume is that, quite often, I ended up choosing one that reflected something I wanted to be. Dressing up as someone like Boba Fett from Star Wars was a way of feeling cool and smart. Being Luke Skywalker, perhaps, reflected a desire to be brave, to be more than who I thought I was.
It’s made me wonder, then, if Saul’s disguise wasn’t what he put on to travel to see the necromancer. Maybe the disguise was the one he wore every day. It was the costume of someone who knew what he was doing, who knew how to win battles and command armies and lead a country. And the other’s clothes, the mask he put on this night, were actually who he really was.
God’s work of redemption within this world and within us is a work that changes things to what they truly are. It’s symbolized for us on the mountain of Transfiguration. Jesus, in that moment, isn’t in a disguise or costume. Peter, James, and John see him as he truly is. The costume was, for a moment, been put aside.
Drawing closer to Christ draws us closer to who we were created to be. We are invited to divest ourselves of the costumes we have chosen over the years: the ones we have put on to appear smart, strong, or brave. We are brought along a road where, in discovering the person God made and formed, we no longer need to dress in a disguise. Our masks, our bedsheets, and our vinyl costumes we’ve put on over our regular clothes can be laid aside. We no longer need them to convince the world or ourselves who we really are.
And we may well find we were who we wanted to be all along.
Jesus, in this season of costumes and disguises, help me to recognize and remove the masks I’ve put on over the years and dare, in daylight and dark, to be the person I’ve been hiding.