Do not be anxious about anything, but in everything, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God. And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus. Philippians 4:6-7
I’m lost. My heart pounds as my eyes scramble through the sheets of paper that are supposed to be my lifeline. I listen, hoping my instincts will kick in, but all that is heard are the imagined judgments being whispered from the crowd. With each passing measure, the picture of my fellow bandmates, error-free, questioning my capability pulses in my mind. I wonder if my randomly placed disconnect can be played off as “part of the plan.” But considering the biggest chorus of the song, it’s clear that the missing boom of my bass is a mistake. Doubt spilling in, I question. Where did it go?
“Hi, I’m Tim.” The introductory words of my first and only guitar instructor are nostalgic. The pre-recorded garageband lessons, free to anyone with an Apple device, offered me the only lessons taken in a decade of music. Throughout years of self-teaching, one thing averted my desire for music theory; laziness. Laziness paired with ambition is a dangerous duo that leads to the pursuit of skill within the bounds of ease. Why learn scales, tempo, or theory, when one can simply listen? If the point of music is to create organized noise, why not just play what sounds right?
After years of half-hearted playing, a surprising benefit was reaped. If a song was familiar enough, my fingers could incorporate it to an instrument. Playing complex pieces by memorization and knowing what sounds followed instrument patterns invited praise. But applause brought nothing but shame, knowing my understanding of music was but a stone toss past the basics. I was a fraud; the musical Jason Bourne, filled with capability and skill, yet no clue as to why. Even the final composition assignment in Music Theory 101, which raised my failing grade to a high-class average left my professor just as puzzled.
Eventually, music’s grip on me yielded the dividend of playing in worship bands for various churches. Though my technical knowledge of music was limited, my ability to play carried enough weight to fulfill the needs of a praise team. That was just the problem.
Playing by ear, feeling the music, instinctively knowing the next notes, vanished when my feet touched the stage. As if the slightly raised floor held an altered atmosphere, my body would lose its power. With cold hands, a racing heart, and a flushed face, my system would force blood to my vitals in an attempt to survive. But survive what? I wasn’t prey being hunted by an animal, though the faces of people contemplating lunch instead of worship could make one think.
As a socially anxious introvert, walking on stage is like walking through the valley of the shadow of death. Standing before others, every action is visible, every mistake seen. Like a wave rolling over a seemingly firm fortress of sand, fear tears through and ravages my confidence, stripping me of my ability to play passionately and for the Lord. What is meant to be an intimate worship of the Creator decays into a fear-filled, note-doubting, musical event.
Tempted to think anxiety is just a reflection of inward humility, I permit myself the loss of joyous worship for the sake of diligence. My eyes never leaving the page, I sacrifice worship for the sake of “not messing up.”
But isn’t it true that fear has nothing to do with humility? Isn’t anxiety a reflection of our dire compulsion to worship self? We consider the outward performance and scrutinize ourselves, drawing attention away from God and heaping concern within; shoving the peace of Christ aside.
This can’t mean our effort and desire to do our best is wrong, considering the words of Paul in Colossians 3:23-24. But how can we possibly do the will of the Father, when our lives are paralyzed by fear? It is in the peace of God that we do our best and it is for Him that we live. With that in mind, shouldn’t we, as children of The Most High toss our anxieties on our Father? His is the glory, so don’t let anxiety steal it away.
Peace I leave with you; my peace I give you. I do not give to you as the world gives. Do not let your hearts be troubled and do not be afraid. John 14:27
So do not worry, saying, ‘What shall we eat?’ or ‘What shall we drink?’ or ‘What shall we wear?’ For the pagans run after all these things, and your heavenly Father knows that you need them. But seek first his kingdom and his righteousness, and all these things will be given to you as well. Matthew 6:31-33
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