When My Fear Is Crippling

Last week, I stood behind the doors of the music rehearsal hall at my school, shifting my weight from right to left, wringing my hands, fighting the urge to run away.

The day before, I wasn't even nervous.  I was just supposed to perform this piece that I've played a thousand times for a few students and faculty.  No big deal.  Then, an hour before the recital, my piano instructor told me, with that slightly evil grin of his, "We moved you to the end of the program.  You're the big finish."

Oh no.  Ohhhh no.  Here it comes.  Pressure.  Oh no.  I cannot do this.

As I walked through the doors of the rehearsal hall to that beautiful grand piano, my choir director whispered, "Be bold.  It IS the Revolutionary, after all!"

Ohhhh no.

I sat down at the piano and placed my fingers on the keys, took a deep breath, and played Chopin's Revolutionary Etude.  Well, people say that I did.  If you ask me, I hit a lot of keys really fast and managed to hit the right ones most of the time.  The whole piece is a blur.  I grinned widely as I bowed afterward- not because I was proud of how I had played, but because I was so glad to be done.  The thing that I do remember-very clearly- is how violently my hands, and even the foot that I pedal with, were shaking through the whole piece.  My mind was blank, I could barely see straight... I had lost all control.

I've been struggling with fear a lot lately, especially when it comes to music.  Pursuing a career in music is a fairly recent thing for me, and it is scary.  When music was a hobby- although, really, it was always more than that to me- expectations were lower.  The fact that I could play anything by Chopin was enough.  The fact that I could sing on key was enough.  Now, I am around extremely talented musicians all the time who challenge me to be much better than just "enough."  Growing constantly as an artist, and working tirelessly to develop my gift, is not optional.  It's scary.

A similar fear overtook me a few days ago when I stood at the keyboard at my church, waiting to start the next song.  Even the idea of making a mistake paralyzed me- which, really, makes a mess-up much more likely to happen.  Then, God told me something.

You're putting way too much faith in your own abilities.

Well, I couldn't argue.  If I am trusting in my own ability to do anything, I absolutely should be afraid. I am nothing without the strength of God.
And if I am trusting in God's ability, well, fear is probably the silliest feeling I could have.

Surrendering to God is not just a daily thing- it's a constant thing.  I can testify, though, that nothing but good can come from that surrender.  You can hear the evidence of that whenever I play or sing- because, seriously, those aren't my abilities.  It's all God.  He gave me the gift of music, yes, but He is constantly reminding me that it is not my own.

I have found myself fearing much more than just playing the wrong note lately, but I believe that this truth transcends to every area of life.  Fear is a warning sign that I'm putting my faith in the wrong place.  From this moment forward, I want to be alert to that warning sign and fix it when it flashes.

The Lord is my light and my salvation-

    so why should I be afraid?

The Lord is my fortress, protecting me from danger,

    so why should I tremble?

{Psalm 27:1}