Fear and Trembling and Pride

I had the opportunity to sing a great solo today in church.  Was so honored to be asked to lead "Lead Me to the Cross."  I had practiced since worship team practice at church.  I had even called my friend who happens to be an amazing singer (the "expert" at this song) for some tips re: the bridge.  I've sung the song while in the congregation, but never have led it from the stage.  So, I was excited for the challenge of learning a new song, and the challenge to lead others in singing.  Humbled and excited.  And nervous. 

When we were in our final rehearsal this a.m., my allergy meds had already started to dry out all my snuffiness, but they worked so well that I felt like the Sahara had taken residence in my voice.  Nevertheless, I gave it my all.  Gave Him my all, after prayerfully telling Him just how privileged I was to be in His presence. 

And I stunk.  My voice sounded reedy and thin.  I was under pitch, and the heart inside didn't match at all the love for my Father.   And what's more--I was nervous and not at peace. 

Our sweet accompanist told me to really listen to myself.  Our lovely bass player said to just think and sing "over" the tones.  Things I know how to do.  And yet.  Was powerless to do.  Despite my prayers.  Despite my practice. 

So, after a bit, I walked over to our worship pastor and asked to be released from the solo.  Because, as nice as it would be to sing a great solo and to lead my church family in worship--it's about them being in a place of worship--not about me getting them there. I would be horrified if listening to me made someone come out of that sweet spot of worship and wonder "what's going on there?".

Gentle and kind as ever, our worship pastor offered it back to me, saying he thought maybe I was just nervous.

And then I had an epiphany:  Yes, I was nervous.  Regardless of the preparation and perhaps even despite any ability I have...I was coming to the throne in fear and trembling.  Naked.  Raw.  Emotionally spent when I thought of the words of the song and the Lord to whom I sang.  I told my worship pastor that I finally realized my problem with solos...When I sing for a play, I'm a character.  Though I want to do well and entertain and bless others...it's not the end of the world if I don't deliver.  But with God...I truly am naked and here's the epiphany:  ashamed.  Though I come to Him in awe and wonder, and in fear and trembling, which is all good, I realize now that I have been carrying shame, too.  I've been carrying the enemy's whispers of:

You're not good enough.
You don't sing sweetly enough for Him.

I've tried (in vain)  to make my offering to Him so perfect and so complete that even though I've asked Him to sing through me, if I'm honest, I think my prayer has been that He would make me the best worship singer ever. 

Eww. 

Shame and pride.

He's already made me perfect through Christ's death on the cross.  What more do I want?  Nothing more could satisfy Him because my debt has been paid, and my standing, through grace, is in holiness.  If I sing with a right heart and mind, ANY noise I make is joyful and perfect to Him.

And so...I repent, Jesus.  I apologize for not making this about You, but about my pride.  Even when I didn't think I was doing so--I'd never do so purposefully--I listened to the insideous tapes of the enemy and put his evaluation of me above Yours.  Forgive me, Father, I pray.  Give me courage to come to you in fear and trembling...in awe and wonder...in joy and passion.  Naked and UNafraid.  And, as I hum this song which is now in my head...be glorified.  In Jesus' name.  Amen.