So, part one was stepping out and leading worship, playing guitar and singing, and choosing to be a leader. The thing about worship is that people kind of have to be nice to you about it, otherwise you get classed as a total arse. Also, leading worship isn't about you which, for me, makes it a less intimidating prospect than playing at an open mic night in front of a bunch of strangers who are obliged to do nothing. They don't have to be encouraging. They can give you looks like you are the spawn of satan if they so choose, which is why, last night, I spent a substantial amount of time feeling like I was going to vomit, and secretly planning to tell my friends that I was too unwell/busy/tired to attend just so I could chicken out.
My fear of performing with a guitar is irrational. There is no way to rationalise how utterly terrified I become when I play in front of people. I have wanted to have the courage to face my fears and play for years, but I always allowed myself to be shackled. That is, until last night.
I went to an open mic night at the YWAM Ireland base in Rostrevor (www.facebook.com/ywamireland), which is situated in what can only be described as a magical fairy land. I mean, seriously, this place is beautiful. There are hills and trees and the sea and gorse and fields... basically all things lovely. It's stunning. You should go. I digress.
The base holds a monthly open mic night where both people from the local community and those who live on the base can perform music, poetry, dance, or pretty much anything you want. Some of it was worship, some of it was secular (including one of the most awesome renditions of 'You Can Call Me Al' I have ever had the privilege of experiencing), and all of it included a bunch of people just having fun. That is, aside from one young woman sitting in the corner, sweating like a pig and shaking like a crack addict. Lil' old me. And then my name was called.
Now, I'm ALL about the bravura. I am not one of these sensible people who shuts up when they are nervous. No no, I talk until I cannot stop, with the internal dialogue of 'Shut up, shut u... why? Why are you still talking? Stop. Stop now...' etc. Last night was no exception. I got up there and told them this was the first time I'd done anything like this, and that I would play on the condition that, no matter how I did, they would tell me I was fabulous. An agreement was struck, closely followed by the strings of my guitar. I was playing David Gray's 'Be Mine' (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fva1QtJnshE), and I was playing it in front of about 70 people! I got into my stride. I was doing pretty bloody well. Nothing could go wrong. Until, of course, I forgot the words four lines before the end of the song.
This was the worst that could have happened. I was about 3 seconds away from panicking. Instead, I did what I do best under pressure; cracked a joke, grinned like the village idiot and played on, to vast cheers. They were on my side, and I finished.
All that to say, I did it. I faced my fear. My fear of playing publicly will probably never be worse than it was last night, because all that needed to happen was for me to say no to what was holding me back. The next challenge will be playing again. And again. And again and again and again. And then maybe I'll actually start feeling good about playing. In the end, facing your fears is about embracing freedom. I took the first step last night. I encourage you to do the same.
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