Ok, so that phrase is greatly exaggerated and over used, and this is just another example. It was, however, one of the best nights I've had in an incredibly long time. I'll tell you all about it in a minute, but first let me give you a little backstory.
I spent a great deal of my life being afraid. Generally speaking I've always been a wallflower. Once we become friends I'll drive you crazy, but rarely will I make the first move to start the conversation. Most of my life has been spent doing things that came easily to me. I was always good at sports so if it was golf, baseball or football, I never really got nervous because I knew I was good at it. I never asked out a girl that I didn't know for sure was interested in me because there was no way I was going to take the chance of being rejected. Perhaps it is the curse of being an only child. You get all of the attention, most of what you want and that means you rarely have to step out of your comfort zone or take any risks. Most of my life I have played it safe with very few exceptions.
Years later when I preached my first sermon I was very scared because I had never done it that before. I had never stood in front of an audience and spoke. My first sermon was in front of 362 people and I was so scared that I was literally green. It should tell you how strongly I believed in what I was doing that I was willing to stick my neck out like that. I didn't do that sort of thing. It was scary at first but then it got to be easy too. Not so much the preparation and theology aspect, but the public speaking part. I realized I was good at talking (always have been; my childhood nickname was motormouth). Just like with people, I may not start the conversation but I will keep it going for hours, I may have started slow in preaching but, as my former church members can attest, I could keep preaching forever. The point is, it didn't really scare me, so back to my world of comfort I returned.
For years I have watched other people take risks and put themselves out there and I secretly thought, "I wish I had the courage to do that." No matter what it was: karaoke, dancing, performing in a play, doing stand up comedy, whatever. They were making themselves vulnerable and exposed to judgement. By the way, judgement isn't bad at all, as long as they judgement is that it was good, it is the harsh judgment that scares me. I have quietly wished that I could do that, but I've just never been brave enough to expose myself to criticism. Until last night.
Some months ago my oldest got involved in a poetry society at his school. I knew that he enjoyed it but I kept my distance and asked few questions because I knew that was "his thing" and I didn't want to trespass on that. Besides, I figured it might be hard for him to be honest, raw and vulnerable if I was in the audience. I did however get to see a performance on Youtube and I was so impressed at his courage. He is so much like me in so many ways, but thankfully one of them isn't in being afraid to take a chance. Last night he asked me if I would like to go with him to an open mic night. I didn't let on, but I was ecstatic to be invited into such a sacred place to him. For over an hour I listened as young person after young person stood in front of the audience of about 100 people. They bled all over the stage, pouring out their hearts, their fears, their failures, their shame and regret and their declarations of strength and perseverance. Many times I was moved to tears at something so true and vulnerable. All I could think was how brave they were and how I wish I could be like that. My oldest performed one of his poems and at the beginning he told the crowd that I was with him and that this was my first time hearing him perform and then he dedicated it to me. It wasn't about me, but about loving a girl, but it was shared with me. I was so proud of him and moved by his words, but then something else happened that I wasn't quite expecting. I was inspired by him. Motivated. Challenged. Summoned. Something inside of me was saying, "If not tonight, when? Aren't you tired of living in fear?"
After all of the group was finished with their poems they asked if anyone else would like to go. I asked my oldest if he cared and he assured me he didn't, so I raised my hand. Too late now. No back out. She called me to the stage and before I could run out the door I was on the stage looking into the faces of 100 college kids. Every insecurity and fear you could imagine was running through my mind. What am I doing? What if I mess up? I've been writing poetry since I was about 18 but I don't think I have ever let anyone read one and I certainly haven't ever read one publicly, but here I was feeling like I was at the top of the Empire State Building about to jump off. The room was so quiet. I took a deep breath and started reciting. Within a couple of minutes I had made it through, I didn't mess up and it was over.
As I thought back on the night I realized what had helped give me the courage to do this. It was the atmosphere in that room. It felt like such a safe place. There was no judgment, just acceptance, love and support. That room was filled with every social clique of young person you could imagine and they made up all different social classes, but for that hour and a half they were just the same. Flawed, scared, damaged human beings who are doing the best we can to be happy and make a difference in the world.
I spent a great deal of my life being afraid. Generally speaking I've always been a wallflower. Once we become friends I'll drive you crazy, but rarely will I make the first move to start the conversation. Most of my life has been spent doing things that came easily to me. I was always good at sports so if it was golf, baseball or football, I never really got nervous because I knew I was good at it. I never asked out a girl that I didn't know for sure was interested in me because there was no way I was going to take the chance of being rejected. Perhaps it is the curse of being an only child. You get all of the attention, most of what you want and that means you rarely have to step out of your comfort zone or take any risks. Most of my life I have played it safe with very few exceptions.
Years later when I preached my first sermon I was very scared because I had never done it that before. I had never stood in front of an audience and spoke. My first sermon was in front of 362 people and I was so scared that I was literally green. It should tell you how strongly I believed in what I was doing that I was willing to stick my neck out like that. I didn't do that sort of thing. It was scary at first but then it got to be easy too. Not so much the preparation and theology aspect, but the public speaking part. I realized I was good at talking (always have been; my childhood nickname was motormouth). Just like with people, I may not start the conversation but I will keep it going for hours, I may have started slow in preaching but, as my former church members can attest, I could keep preaching forever. The point is, it didn't really scare me, so back to my world of comfort I returned.
For years I have watched other people take risks and put themselves out there and I secretly thought, "I wish I had the courage to do that." No matter what it was: karaoke, dancing, performing in a play, doing stand up comedy, whatever. They were making themselves vulnerable and exposed to judgement. By the way, judgement isn't bad at all, as long as they judgement is that it was good, it is the harsh judgment that scares me. I have quietly wished that I could do that, but I've just never been brave enough to expose myself to criticism. Until last night.
Some months ago my oldest got involved in a poetry society at his school. I knew that he enjoyed it but I kept my distance and asked few questions because I knew that was "his thing" and I didn't want to trespass on that. Besides, I figured it might be hard for him to be honest, raw and vulnerable if I was in the audience. I did however get to see a performance on Youtube and I was so impressed at his courage. He is so much like me in so many ways, but thankfully one of them isn't in being afraid to take a chance. Last night he asked me if I would like to go with him to an open mic night. I didn't let on, but I was ecstatic to be invited into such a sacred place to him. For over an hour I listened as young person after young person stood in front of the audience of about 100 people. They bled all over the stage, pouring out their hearts, their fears, their failures, their shame and regret and their declarations of strength and perseverance. Many times I was moved to tears at something so true and vulnerable. All I could think was how brave they were and how I wish I could be like that. My oldest performed one of his poems and at the beginning he told the crowd that I was with him and that this was my first time hearing him perform and then he dedicated it to me. It wasn't about me, but about loving a girl, but it was shared with me. I was so proud of him and moved by his words, but then something else happened that I wasn't quite expecting. I was inspired by him. Motivated. Challenged. Summoned. Something inside of me was saying, "If not tonight, when? Aren't you tired of living in fear?"
After all of the group was finished with their poems they asked if anyone else would like to go. I asked my oldest if he cared and he assured me he didn't, so I raised my hand. Too late now. No back out. She called me to the stage and before I could run out the door I was on the stage looking into the faces of 100 college kids. Every insecurity and fear you could imagine was running through my mind. What am I doing? What if I mess up? I've been writing poetry since I was about 18 but I don't think I have ever let anyone read one and I certainly haven't ever read one publicly, but here I was feeling like I was at the top of the Empire State Building about to jump off. The room was so quiet. I took a deep breath and started reciting. Within a couple of minutes I had made it through, I didn't mess up and it was over.
As I thought back on the night I realized what had helped give me the courage to do this. It was the atmosphere in that room. It felt like such a safe place. There was no judgment, just acceptance, love and support. That room was filled with every social clique of young person you could imagine and they made up all different social classes, but for that hour and a half they were just the same. Flawed, scared, damaged human beings who are doing the best we can to be happy and make a difference in the world.
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