Today after I led worship, someone I hadn't met before that has been attending our church for a few months told me that the way I worship, specifically the way I hold my microphone, is distracting and he thinks everyone should be uniform. He brought up Sesame Street's "Which one of these doesn't belong!" and told me that it was me. I tried to explain that I have been leading worship for over 10 years and that I hold the mic the way that I do because it is how I am comfortable since I can't have it in a mic stand. He then made a fuss about how he was going to get a mic stand for me every time I was going to sing from now on.
I walked away from that conversation (if you can call it a conversation...I feel like it was an attack. Maybe he didn't intend it to be an attack, but boy Satan sure used it to crush me today.) feeling like I will never set foot on stage again. I don't want to lead worship again. I am done. I am so saddened that time and time again I am judged for the way I look (READ: Tattoos and piercings) and how I worship when I sing that I just can't face getting on stage again.
But next week, I will show up. I will sing, just like I have over and over again. Because I am not there for that guy, or to impress anyone else. I am there to worship my God and lead others to the throne room of the King of kings. If he is so distracted by the way I hold a microphone, and it is such a big issue that my Pastoral staff asks me to step down, then I will leave willingly and humbly. But God has put in a place where I am called to sing, called to lead and called to worship.
Sunday, June 30, 2013
Blank Spaces
For every stroke of my paintbrush I found myself more and more unsatisfied with my work. The shading wasn't quite right, the color was off, and I left my lucky paintbrush at home. (Yes, lucky paintbrushes are a real thing, you judgey-judger!)
I had to redo the same spot on my canvas three times before I was happy with it. And that meant waiting for the mistake to dry, painting over the look-what-you-did-you-turd spots to match the background which I stupidly used three shades of grey and three shades of blue in a blended ombre of sorts, then wait for that to dry...and THEN attempt to make an acceptable paint stroke. Yeah. Three times is a lot to have to do that process, believe me.
I don't consider myself an artist. In fact, when I am painting with people who have legitimate talent, I look at my own work and it makes me laugh. I am so unbearably amateur that if I didn't love to do it so much I would quit! But regardless of the final product and how childish it may look, when I'm in the actual process of painting, I don't care. It's not that I finally stop comparing myself to everyone else...it is that I finally stop caring that I don't "measure up" to how perfect the people around me seem to be. Taking a white canvas and filling it with color brings a sense of calm and focus I desperately need in my life. I find the same when I am ready to post a blog on here. (I know it looks like I don't post very often....I write a lot, I choose not to publish. It's a choice I've made. I think it's a wise one...)
The way the brush curves and color appears; the way the curser blinks and words appear; the way the blank white spaces disappear.
That is what I long for. I long to fill the blank spaces with something of beauty. Something that will inspire, impress, remind me of something I later that I desperately needed at this point in my life. I want to fill my life with things I have created so I will be surrounded by things that are not just beautiful to me, but that mean something. I could go out and buy much better art than the pathetic pictures hanging on my walls for very cheap, but with every piece I've created, I have crafted a part of myself into it. Each time I paint, there is a part of me that I surrender to the canvas and I want it to stay there. Sometimes it is something really painful that when I look at it, I'm reminded of how far I've come...sometimes it comes from a place of joy and I want to remember that just as much. I don't expect other people to enjoy my paintings the way that I do or even to like them. It is truly okay with me--just like I don't expect other people to enjoy my writing the way that I do. As long as I get to continue to fill blank spaces, I know I will always have moments of joy to look forward to no matter what else happens.
Is there something in your life that moves you like this? I didn't even talk about the way leading worship affects my soul, or the way a story can wreck my heart...or how just seeing a sunflower can bring tears to my eyes. My love of filling a blank space is enough for one night. I hope you are inspired to fill some blank spaces of your own....or to find the thing that makes your heart beat a little faster.
I had to redo the same spot on my canvas three times before I was happy with it. And that meant waiting for the mistake to dry, painting over the look-what-you-did-you-turd spots to match the background which I stupidly used three shades of grey and three shades of blue in a blended ombre of sorts, then wait for that to dry...and THEN attempt to make an acceptable paint stroke. Yeah. Three times is a lot to have to do that process, believe me.
I don't consider myself an artist. In fact, when I am painting with people who have legitimate talent, I look at my own work and it makes me laugh. I am so unbearably amateur that if I didn't love to do it so much I would quit! But regardless of the final product and how childish it may look, when I'm in the actual process of painting, I don't care. It's not that I finally stop comparing myself to everyone else...it is that I finally stop caring that I don't "measure up" to how perfect the people around me seem to be. Taking a white canvas and filling it with color brings a sense of calm and focus I desperately need in my life. I find the same when I am ready to post a blog on here. (I know it looks like I don't post very often....I write a lot, I choose not to publish. It's a choice I've made. I think it's a wise one...)
The way the brush curves and color appears; the way the curser blinks and words appear; the way the blank white spaces disappear.
That is what I long for. I long to fill the blank spaces with something of beauty. Something that will inspire, impress, remind me of something I later that I desperately needed at this point in my life. I want to fill my life with things I have created so I will be surrounded by things that are not just beautiful to me, but that mean something. I could go out and buy much better art than the pathetic pictures hanging on my walls for very cheap, but with every piece I've created, I have crafted a part of myself into it. Each time I paint, there is a part of me that I surrender to the canvas and I want it to stay there. Sometimes it is something really painful that when I look at it, I'm reminded of how far I've come...sometimes it comes from a place of joy and I want to remember that just as much. I don't expect other people to enjoy my paintings the way that I do or even to like them. It is truly okay with me--just like I don't expect other people to enjoy my writing the way that I do. As long as I get to continue to fill blank spaces, I know I will always have moments of joy to look forward to no matter what else happens.
Is there something in your life that moves you like this? I didn't even talk about the way leading worship affects my soul, or the way a story can wreck my heart...or how just seeing a sunflower can bring tears to my eyes. My love of filling a blank space is enough for one night. I hope you are inspired to fill some blank spaces of your own....or to find the thing that makes your heart beat a little faster.
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