Funding Update: I am blown away at all of the support that has brought me this far! I have two weeks to raise $760 and meet my final deadline (July 1st). Will you help me continue the Race? Every little bit counts. Thank you!!
I can do something now I couldn’t do 5 ½ months ago. I can stand up in front of any crowd, and lead worship.
In January, I could strum a couple of chords on the guitar. But it still took my fingers a few seconds of silence to switch positions. I was also close friends with a few worship leaders, and I had learned from them how much real thought and preparation goes into helping people encounter God through music. There’s all sorts of stuff to ponder, like “What is worship, really?” and “What if you have to lead, but you’re an absolute spiritual mess?” among other things. I thought I’d have to figure all of that out before I could ever lead worship.
It turns out that life on the World Race doesn’t always leave you room to analyze.
In March, we tromped around to little villages in India, helping lead services and hanging out with the Christians there. Every night the Indians would sing some of their own beautiful (really beautiful) worship songs, and we’d sing some of ours. Our guitarist-extraordinaire of a Squad Leader Andrew was with my team for our first week, playing while we sang. Then, one fateful Tuesday… he had to leave.
Of our little team of 7 that was left, the person who knew the most guitar was… me. And let’s just say there hadn’t been much improvement since January.
I began frantically trying to pull some things together. I remember discovering tricks to make difficult chords easier, and discovering chords that no human hand could physically contort to (I was convinced). I remember the moment using a capo first made sense. (“Thaaaat’s what they’re for!”)
I remember leading the second night all by myself, and to my horror, the guitar had somehow gotten woefully out of tune between our house and the village. I sat there in silence, with an inward panic attack – the entire Indian congregation watching me patiently – and then just played the entire set anyway, cringing as I sang.
At home, I’m a classical pianist. I have musician friends. I overhear theological discussions on worship and excellence. This is not how it’s done. My team would never in a million years tell you that I was failing, but in my little musician’s heart I knew my playing wasn’t at all fit for an audience. The best I could do just wasn’t cutting it.
But what I’d like to say is that yet… even in the midst of all of my self-consciousness, I was thrilled.
I was thrilled because I’ve become addicted to this feeling of doing hard things. When my heart starts pounding, and I feel a rising sense of how ill-equipped and unprepared I am… that’s my cue.
To me, that feeling – that discomfort and fear – says “If you try this, you will be changed.”
And I’ve never been more consistently uncomfortable in my entire life than on the World Race. I’m given endless opportunities to do hard things. I could run away and disengage if I wanted to, but I’m not about to waste this year. Because as soon as that fear hits me, I know it’s a signal I’m doing something worthwhile. My comfort zone is expanding. I’m able to do things I never thought I could do. I’m growing.
So as I sat there night after night with the guitar in front of 50 Indian strangers, 7 friends, and my proud Father – not at all confident in what I was about to do – inwardly I’d be yelling, “YESSSSS!”
I’m reminiscing about this little worship-journey from the halfway point of my World Race. I’ve got 5 ½ months down, and 5 ½ months to go. And there’s something special about Adventures in Missions that frees me to do hard things in a way I haven’t known before.
This is the only organization I know where my bosses are constantly telling me, “There’s grace for you. There is grace. Don’t be afraid.”
Here, there’s room for me to fail. In fact, they want to see me fail, because it means I’m taking on the big stuff, the stuff that will change me. Because I’m certain my leadership will respond to me with love, I’m unafraid to take risks. (Huh. Sounds a little bit like a model of Jesus, doesn’t it.)
In terms of guitar, I still can’t get lost in the music I’m playing – my fingers demand too much of my concentration as I struggle to hit the right strings. And I’m still a far cry from being able to smoothly draw people into a state of worship. But I am armed with a determination to tackle the things that scare me, and people who couldn’t care less if I fail. They just want to see me grow.
Here’s to 5 ½ more months with them.
Photo credit – Harris Richie
