It is done. I sang this weekend and it was as different from years ago as wood is from plastic. Back in the old days (does it sound absurd to hear a 23 year old refer to her past as ‘the old days’?) I was performing. Performing performing performing. All the time. Or trying to perform, anyway. It’s little wonder artists and creators turn to substance abuse and excess. Can you imagine an entire life lived as though your worth was dependent on how well you performed? Maybe you can. A lot of people live their lives performing in one way or another; as a parent or spouse or employee or student; and crack under the pressure.
I know that I am free of that, because this weekend I sang, and I didn’t perform. I had nerves beforehand for certain, wondering if my voice would overcome its brief history of phlegm (yick), but once I was up there I had no sense of it being for me or dependent on me. I was able to take Galatians 2:20 and put it into practice in a different context. For me, that verse destroys perfectionism. What a relief! To understand that I’m not under pressure to be perfect, or to entertain the masses when I sing. It’s about heart and obedience, and He takes care of the rest. Was it still a bit scary? Of course! But what’s life without a little excitement? And the old pressure has been released. Hurrah!
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