In third grade I had dreams of being a star.
Ok... that's a lie, but I DID want to perform in our annual talent show.
Being an avid Lion King fan, I memorized the song 'I Just Can't wait to be King' and practiced it every night in my living room. I knew it perfectly.
I even went and bought a Lion King t-shirt for the occasion. I figured if I was going to sing the song, I should also look the part. (I thought a lion costume would be a bit much.)
As the talent show got underway, so did my nerves. Without thinking, I sprinted to the bathroom, and there I hid, crumpled up in a ball at the back of the stall until my mom came and found me. No amount of coaxing, encouragement or bribes could get me out of the corner. The talent show went on without me and there, in that bathroom, was born a fear of singing in public.
I was quite the choir geek (sorry... Gleek) in middle school and high school, but stayed safely in the back row (where I was placed for height reasons), my voice blending in with the masses. I loved singing, but only in the safety of being stacked on risers with 25 other high school students.
I love to sing although I am a bit of a diva when it comes to my solo performance venues. I don't sing in the shower... fully aware that despite the phenomenal acoustics, everyone in the entire house, and probably the houses down the street, can hear your amplified warbling. My car is my venue of choice. My steering wheel is well aware of my pop star abilities. Lets just say that Britney, Celine, Mariah and Christina have had quite an impact on me.
Every once in awhile I pray a prayer that is an 'afterthought' type prayer. And last year, from the safety of my bedroom, I prayed that God would teach me how to lead worship on the World Race. I was hoping to overcome my fear of singing in public... sort of a trial by fire situation... getting thrust into the position of HAVING to sing, because I could carry a tune in a bucket if I had to.
Although this prayer was an afterthought to me, it was apparently at the top of God's to do list, because almost instantly things began to get loud.
In Romania, one night during church, I decided to stand up and sing. I always sing when we worship, but this time I SANG... like... loudly. I decided to just go for it and for 30 minutes, nothing else existed. That night I worshipped from a place deep in my heart... a place I didn't knew existed outside the confines of my Scion TC.
After worship my teammate Kacie passed me a note written on the back of a gum wrapper. All it said was "Get it!"
From there my voice got stronger and stronger. The fear that had me tied up and silent for my entire life began to melt away... in its place was a voice... a strong, confident voice.
But that was just the beginning.
I went through a bit of a break up in Romania (loving, beautiful, and absolutely in God's hands), but it was a break up nonetheless. Having been in that position before, I knew that there were several ways that one could handle such a situation. One could drown oneself in ice cream, but since I'm not particularly bent towards the frozen treat, I figured that maybe there was a better, yet just as satisfyingly Emo, way to cope.
We were standing at a bus stop and I was listening to my iPod. Reverberating in my head was Taylor Swift's 15-year-old voice crooning about her broken heart. She was speaking my language. "Yea girl, I hear you, sing it woman!" I was saying out loud... completely ignoring my teammates.
It was in that moment that I was hit with a stroke of brilliance. I was going to learn to play 'Tim McGraw' by Taylor Swift on the guitar. I figured that this deliciously emo indulgence would be the perfect ice cream substitute!
Luckily, two of my teammates are expert guitar players, and so I had free lessons at my disposal. (They werethrilled!)
After some ridiculous attempts to play the song and belt it at the top of my lungs, I actually settled down and made them teach me the chords. C, Am, F, G (in case you were wondering). I played them over and over again, and before I knew it... they started to click.
So I made them teach me another song... and then another. Within three days I led worship (albeit BADLY) for our team in Romania. (Yes it took me 20 minutes to tune the guitar- give me a break though- it was my first time!)
I had officially found my ice cream substitute and it worked like a charm.
Ten days later I was duped into buying a guitar. More accurately, it was suggested to me that Romania would be a good place for such a purchase, and my wheels began turning. Guitars have always been a bit of a soft spot for me, since my dad is an excellent guitarist. So I called him and told him of my plans. He made a deal with me that if I decided to take this seriously, he would buy me the guitar.
I went that day, flanked by my whole team, and walked out of the store the proud new owner of a black, shiny, beautiful guitar.
When traveling around the world, any purchase that adds to your luggage count is a terrible idea... and I knew that regret would set in come our first travel day. I also knew that if I wasn't careful, I'd come up with reasons and excuses to stop playing. So I decided, day one, that if I was going to do this, I was going to do it for real. I vowed to play every single day... and I have... in sickness and in health... with my fingers freezing off in Moldova, and trying not to throw up for a week in Nepal.
Here's the strange part though... I am not particularly gifted- musically. Other than a six-month stint playing piano when I was ten, I have no experience playing instruments. Yet my teammates watched amazed as guitar came miraculously easily to me. Within weeks I legitimately was leading worship for 25 people... I was strumming, learning songs, and less than a month later I performed at an event we held, singing, and playing guitar in front of everybody.
Since coming on the Race, I've really been discovering the power of words. When someone says something to you, when someone calls you something, you begin to become it... whether good or bad. If you hear it enough, it is almost like a rope pulling you forward into something you never thought you'd be.
In Moldova, I was called a worshipper- not that it is what I do, but that it is who I am. I was told that my voice is sweet, like an angel. I was told that when I sing, people stop to listen. I was told that my worship is pure. I was told that my voice brings light and life to people. I was told that my music was going to bring healing to people (and it did this last week). I was told that I usher in the Spirit of God when I sing and that it draws people to Jesus.
With my team right now, I AM our worship leader. When we're asked to perform something, all heads swivel in my direction. I lead our worship time each morning, and sometimes also in the evening.
Today when I was explaining how NEW this is to two of my friends, they were baffled. They told me that this looks good on me, it fits me, this gift is made for me, and it fits me just right.
Looking at this gift, this absolute transformation, I'm amazed. Going from someone who legitimately tried not to pee her pants during choir tryouts each year, someone who didn't know what a capo was, to now being a worship leader... 'baffled' doesn't even begin to cover it.
Sometimes I pick up my guitar and am surprised at what my hands know how to do... I look down at them in shock "when did you learn to do THAT?"
I am convinced without a shadow of a doubt that God taught me to play guitar. This is not of my own power, because if it were, it definitely wouldn't sound like this.
But they're right... I AM a worshipper. Its new, absolutely unexpected, and I still can't believe that the shoes I've stepped into ACTUALLY FIT, but they do. I sing in public, I play guitar now, and I lead my team into worship. I AM a worshipper. It's not just what I do, it's who I am. And I'm absolutely amazed.
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