If I were a research psychologist, I think I'd develop a theory about what happens to people when they put their private lives and thoughts up for all the world to see. I wonder if fish behave differently in a fish tank because they are being observed by someone? I wonder if it is really possible not to be self-conscious when you know someone is watching you?
As soon as I started this particular blog I began to have anxiety! I almost deleted it. The only reason I didn't was the reason I started it. It's not for my benefit, but hopefully for someone else's. Unlike some folks, I don't really want to share my struggles with people. I really only want to share Jesus and my triumphs. But I don't think sharing a triumph is all that valid if you don't share your struggles. I'm keeping them off to the side so as to not give them too much visibility. It's not that I have anything to be ashamed of (unless it's that I still haven't cleaned that bathroom), but that if I focus too much on myself, I might take my eyes of the Lord and start sinking like Peter did. That would be a bummer, and not my idea of an effective pursuit. I don't want anyone else to get their eyes on me either. My whole reason for being is to point to Him.
Sometimes I wonder, though, if all that I do really does point to Him. Maybe it just points to my talent or skills. God gave them to me and taught and trained me, but maybe they get in the way. I hope not. I wouldn't know what to do if that were the case. All I can think to do is to keep reminding myself and others that it's Jesus we're supposed to be impressed with, not people.
I had a bragging moment more than a year ago, and I'm still suffering the consequences. Father God just won't tolerate it in me any more. What I said was (and I said it out loud to my husband, not just thought it to myself), "I can write songs now whenever I want to. I just sit down and start writing~ they just keep coming!" Guess what? (I'm sure this is predictable): I haven't written a song since. Not that I haven't tried! I guess I did write a couple of so-called songs, but they were totally lame. I even went through that before; did I learn? Only for a while. Then when I was really steaming along great, I lost it because of pride and self-confidence. The stark fact is: I can't write songs (or do anything else) worth beans without the power of the Spirit moving in me. I just can't. Especially if He's resisting me. You don't want God to be resisting you (uh, He's the immovable rock!). God resists the proud and gives grace to the humble.
I had a song-writing moment yesterday. It glimmered in my "peripheral vision" for a few seconds. I had just listened to Amy Grant's new recording of "Better Than A Hallelujah" and read an interview with her. I've always loved Amy, and followed her career since she started at 17. I was somewhat older than her, but I imitated her for a long time until the Lord convinced me I was supposed to be me, not anybody else. I went through an imitate-Joni Mitchell-stage too, before I became a Christian. I was good at imitating. People would say, "Oh you sound just like Joni Mitchell!" Then they would say, "You sound just like Amy Grant!" Does anybody ever say, "Oh, you sound just like yourself!" No, of course not!
Back to the song-writing moment. I let it pass, as I often let the prayer moment, or the worship moment, or the call your parent moment pass. I am not the most obedient one around. I am strong-willed and don't like to be led. I don't even do what I intend to do sometimes, just to spite myself for trying to control me! Is that dumb or what? But the fact that I even had a song-writing moment brought tears to my eyes! I felt like I had something to say, maybe. My thoughts after that were part factual and part stupid. I don't have any callouses to play guitar. I can't sing anymore. What it really came down to was fear that songwriting would take over and I wouldn't be in control. It's time consuming. I can only do it in collaboration with Jesus. I have to do it when He wants to. Just like making composite art; but I've gotten used to riding the wave with art and I don't want to give it up. And with music, I'm not in a fishbowl anymore at all. I'm all alone, just me and the Lord, for now. It's so easy to get addicted to even the thought that someone out there might be watching. It's like reverse voyeurism.
I remember a terrifying moment at my grandmother's house. I was in grade school, not sure of the age exactly. But I remember standing next to her piano, trembling with fear. My mother had insisted that I sing a song for her and granddad. Mom might have accompanied me, I'm not sure. I wanted to and I didn't want to. I wanted it to be perfect, and it never was. I managed to do it somehow without fainting. It was the beginning of my long struggle with performance anxiety that eventually escalated into panic attacks before, and even during, performances. I have many painful stories of this I won't go into.
I remember with equal clarity the day I experienced God's hand on my back on the platform at church as I did a solo. He said to me in my heart, as I tried to push the fear down, "Just lean back. I'll hold you up." He literally did! I was able to relax against this gentle pressure holding me up, and as I did, I began to sing with incredible freedom. I knew in my heart, from that time on, that He didn't want me to be ashamed. He didn't want me to fail. He would help me do my best and add to it Himself, as long as I would stay humble and admit my need of Him. He would always be there to uphold me, as long as I would lean on Him and not on my self. I always remembered that from then on. Whenever I felt afraid on stage, which was every time, I would consciously lean back against Him. He's never failed me. He's always been there.
I guess I'm reminding myself that now that I feel like I'm in a fishbowl-- somehow trying to just be free, be myself, and I'm starting to feel the same panic that used to plague me-- that He's still there with His hand on my back. He's saying that just being myself can glorify Him because He's done a lot of work in me over all these years, and I'm not the same as I was. He's entwined with me to the point where you can't not see Him or hear Him in some way. Sure, I'm still flawed and human, but I'm quite willing to admit it and let Him form me until I'm like Him.
Wouldn't it be nice if people said, "You sound just like Jesus!" That would be awesome.
No comments:
Post a Comment