In high school and college, I was one of the “theatre kids.” If there was a production of some sort, be it a play, musical, or opera, I was involved somehow. Whether it was onstage, behind the scenes, or more often than not both, you can bet I was there.
Now the most stressful part of theatre isn’t auditions nor is it the performance. It’s waiting for the cast list: enough to drive even the most experienced actor insane.
Twice I’ve been asked to understudy a role. You have to learn the part and be ready to step in at the drop of a hat, but you know full well that there’s a very slim chance you will be needed. It’s a little complicated to sort out how you feel about it; on one hand, the directors know you are capable of playing the role, but on the other, you were not their first choice. It’s flattering and disappointing all at once.
And on the race I’ve discovered that this concept of being an understudy isn’t limited to theatre.
In real life, like onstage, I’m accustomed to having a role to play – something I do that makes me valuable to whatever group I’m in. Although the role often changes, I’ve always had one.
Then I got to the World Race, and within the first month it appeared to me that on my team there were no roles left for me to play. I couldn’t be the leader, the public speaker, the musician, the intellectual, the caregiver, the comedian, or the confidant – all of those were taken by my teammates, and all of these were things I had been before.
Now I never lost the confidence in my ability to play any of these roles, but it seemed like I was the understudy of my team. I could jump in when necessary, but I was hardly the first choice in most instances, nor would there be anything lacking if I wasn’t around.
This perspective, although narrow and incorrect at the time, was difficult to reconcile. I wanted to play one of those roles, or at least find one not yet taken. It took a fair amount of prayer, soul-searching, and reading scriptures about the body of Christ to finally get over this wall and quit feeling sorry for myself, but this is still a battle I find myself having to fight on occasion.
But here’s the thing: while I enjoy playing certain roles, and these roles are not bad, I had given them far too much value and influence. I have let them define me, and let my desire to be “needed” get to me.
I can’t place my value on being “Sarah the leader,” “Sarah the intellectual,” or “Sarah the comedian.” Any of these roles, and many others, could be stripped from me in an instant.
Instead I just want to be Sarah, who happens to be a leader, a musician, a speaker, a comedian, a caregiver, a confidant, and an intellectual. I have every desire and every intention to use my gifts, but I can’t let them replace my inner being, and I can’t stake the “success” of my race on them.
After all, what profits a woman if she gains the World Race but loses her soul?
At the end of the day I can only be the best version of myself, whatever that looks like in a given moment and whatever God has created me for. I may sometimes forget this and have to remind myself, but that doesn’t make it any less true.
In this almighty director’s cast, there are no understudies.
