Being in ministry requires an uncomfortable level of self-promotion. I have to speak in front of churches and other groups and explain what I do and why it’s a cause worth giving to. Raising money isn’t my favorite part of the job, but it is necessary. No Christian efforts happen without money. My job also involves Chrisitan training, so public speaking is required.
A few months ago, I had to speak in front of a big church. The night before, I had a terrible nightmare.
We were walking into the church but discovered it was a sort of maze. There were rows and isles of chairs in different rooms pointing different directions and chaotic masses of people moving to and fro. Somehow, I became separated from Chris and the kids. I was wearing purple shoes, and at some point, realized my shoes were gone and I was barefoot. The doors to the sanctuary opened, and the service was about to begin. People began scrambling around trying to find their seats. I was supposed to speak on stage but didn’t know how to get to the front or when things would begin. I started to panic, realizing the embarrassment of being barefoot. When I looked down, I saw a pair of tall, black heeled shoes, with ribbons that wrapped up the leg. But what would be more embarrassing: no shoes or these ostentatious shoes? I put the shoes on but then realized I wasn’t wearing pants. I ran to the bathroom to see if I could figure out a way to properly clothe myself. When I came back, Chris was on stage, with the choir behind him like a stern-faced panel of judges. He was muttering about soteriology and the atonement, and then several of the young men were shaking their heads. They looked like studious seminarians, wearing khakis and black-rimmed glasses. “Well, that is not what we believe!” they said, disapprovingly. Chris saw me, trapped behind the great crowd. I saw his look of panic; this was supposed to be my speech and he wasn’t prepared. Just then, a woman from the choir of judges pointed an accusatory finger at me and said, “Well, what does she do?” Everyone from the crowd turned around to look at me, and I felt myself burning hot from embarrassment. “Something with refugees…” Chris said. I was shrinking smaller and smaller. People began to laugh when they noticed that I was pants-less and wearing ridiculous shoes.
Then Jonah woke me from my nightmare.
I tried to shake this dream off with two cups of stout coffee, but I couldn’t stop thinking about my dream. Some people think that dreams have meaning. I think this dream probably means I took too much benadryl and need to see an allergist. But, if my dream did have meaning, it probably means that I struggle with insecurity and care too much about what people think. It means that public speaking isn’t as easy for me as people think.
One day, people will realize that I’m just a nervous kid standing on a stage exposed and wearing someone else’s shoes.
In college as a piano major, I was required to regularly perform. I hated performance (and I still do). I could play a passage flawlessly in the practice room and then mess up as soon as people were watching. I would practice for hours and memorize the complex score in my mind, but as soon as I stepped on stage, I felt like I couldn’t breathe, and my hands would shake uncontrollably. And you can’t play Rachmaninoff when your hands are shaking. Stage fright became debilitating.
My college best friend was an extremely talented pianist, and he made performing look easy. To my shock, he told me that he used to vomit every time before he stepped on stage. He still didn’t love performing, but he had learned to conquer his nerves. He gave me a book called The Inner Game of Music. The basic premise has to do with deleting the inner, critical, over-thinking voice inside your head and giving yourself permission to make mistakes. When you aren’t worried about making a mistake, it won’t derail you when it happens. The goal is complete focus and whole-hearted enjoyment of the music, not perfection. This book was an adaptation of The Inner Game of Tennis, because the same principles apply to athletes.
While the book helped me survive my senior recital, I haven’t performed music since college. But the principles of overcoming perfectionism and allowing oneself to make mistakes - this advice continues helping me through all the rigors of adult life.
Perhaps the most quoted line of Shakespeare is, “All the world’s a stage, and all the men and women merely players.” Shakespeare compares our various roles in life to characters in a play. His words also seem to suggest that there is a real, more vulnerable person behind the public persona that you allow others to see.
We’re standing on the stage of life, and we’re all scared that people are watching, and we’re going to mess it up. I wonder how many people get stuck and don’t try new things because they're afraid of rejection or failure. For example, one of my friends loves children. She’s empathetic and emotionally mature, and she would make the most incredible mother. But her own mother was abusive and bestowed in her a deep sense of shame. She’s decided against motherhood, because she’s terrified that she’d repeat the sins of the past.
Most of us struggle with either pride (Look at me - I’m so good!) or insecurity (Don’t look at me - I’m not good enough!). But insecurity is a skewed form of pride because both are rooted in self-concern and fear of man. Or perhaps insecurity is more deeply rooted in shame. Brene Brown defines shame as “the intensely painful feeling or experience of believing that we are flawed and therefore unworthy of love and belonging - something we’ve experienced, done, or failed to do makes us unworthy of connection.”
We all need God to fix our shame problem.
A couple weeks ago, our lead pastor was out of town and Chris was set to preach. But five minutes before the service, Chris hands me a piece of paper and says, “Chuck is running late! You’re doing the announcements!” I didn’t argue. But I wasn’t prepared. The deacons were standing in the back with the offering plates, confused, because I’d forgotten the offering prayer. And then I continued, “Oh yes, the women’s event is in November….and it costs…some money… And you can sign up…somewhere. See Jeannette for more information!” And because this month we are handing out special gifts to newcomers, I made a joke about bribing people to come to church. Noone laughed. In my estimation, this was a disaster. After the service, when I brought up with Chris my lingering embarrassment, he responded sarcastically, “It was AWFUL! And I’m sure EVERYONE is still thinking about how terrible you did. Noone has anything else to think about!”
If we take our emotions to the cross, Jesus rescues us from pride, insecurity, and shame, and tells us that we are enough. We can endure the little embarrassments, and the big ones. Our worth and value are no longer rooted in what we do (or don’t do), but simply in who we are as beloved children of God. My life’s purpose becomes loving God in return for all He has done, and loving others is the natural result. Whether I do great things or seemingly insignificant things for the kingdom, the results are entirely up to God. But I must be willing to step onto the stage and do whatever he asks of me, no matter how uncomfortable.
God’s voice is becoming louder than my inner, critical voice.
We are free to be imperfect. We are free to make mistakes. We are free to risk - and to fail. And dealing with failures can drive us towards God-dependence, when worldly successes can fuel our self-reliance and become idolatry within itself. People think that the antidote to low confidence is to give praise. But this tends to just increase our vanity and can move us to the other sinful extreme.
“It’s really not about you, Rachel”- This is what I tell myself when I start to feel insecure.
So, I will step on the stage of life knowing that I’m in God’s hands.
… And this time I’ll be wearing pants.
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