Loose Ends… Confessions Of An Unfinished Faith
Loose Ends…Confessions Of An Unfinished Faith – November Issue, 2006
“Growth Spurt” by Nichole Nordeman
I’d like to think that I am a fairly predictable person…at least this is what I have come to believe about myself. So professionally speaking, as it relates to my career and ministry decisions, I’m a pretty open book.
After almost 10 years of artistry, my manager can predict with alarming accuracy which creative opportunities I’ll accept and which don’t feel like will be a good fit (a bit part in a Gary Bussey movie years ago, not withstanding). My booking agent knows that I prefer to play in smaller, more intimate venues. (I learned the hard way, years ago, how painful it is to play a meaningful piano ballad while most of the audience is trying to see how long they can keep a beach ball in the air at an outdoor festival). My publicist can pretty confidently forecast which questions I’ll be comfortable answering in an interview, and which should be respected by my personal boundaries. I don’t request strange items in my dressing room at a show. I don’t care if my bottled water is room temperature or cold. I don’t have any bizarre requirements of the people that work for or with me. And frankly, I think all of that has less to do with any type of virtuous “low maintenance” personality I have, and more to do with the fact that I’m just not that complicated. It doesn’t take much to make me happy.
Here’s the problem with that. I get stuck.
I get really wonderfully, comfortably stuck in the rut of doing only what I am best at and accustomed to, because these days I have the luxury of declining anything else that feels like too much challenge or change.
It wasn’t always that way. Ten years ago, when I was a brand new artist, fresh off the worship team from a local church with a few awkward songs in my repertoire and not a clue about anything else, I said “yes” to every opportunity that fell in my lap. This was due, in large part, to my enthusiasm for new experiences, but the other major contributing factor was that I’d had my electricity turned off twice at my apartment when I was recording my first record in Nashville, and my checking account could not afford to say ‘no’ to anything…(which is how I wound up singing directly below a roller coaster at a small theme park with ten year old boys spitting things at me as they soared above my head). That moment, and so many like it, has contributed to my growth as an artist and as a person. So, when all of that experience and growth added up (commonly known as paying your dues) and I finally arrived at a place in my career and artistry where I can be extremely selective about what I do, when I do it, and with whom…I discovered this sneaky little side effect that no one ever warned me about. Apathy. And his cousin, Boredom.
Repeatedly and intentionally choosing scenarios that only ensure my success and maintain my reputation with myself, and others, is a quick way to suck the life out of a calling. At least that’s what I told myself recently.
I was glad to turn the page on the calendar this month. Not because it was a bad month…just a challenging one, because my decision to get “unstuck” involved agreeing to participate in two rather awkward events.
I wanted to, in my stuck state, branch out a bit. Nothing crazy. I just wanted to be intentional about putting myself in situations that were less than comfortable for me. Situations where, I believed God could use me and the gifts he gave me, but that didn’t necessarily mean a “home run” for my performance or ego.
The first event involved leading a class at the GMA Music in the Rockies event in Estes Park. This “class” was not about singing or songwriting or anything else I feel like I can do with some amount of poise and confidence. Rather, it was an invitation for me to spend one (long) hour talking about my journey and imparting any potential wisdom to other creative types who were dumb enough to sign up for the class. After I realized what sort of insanity I had actually agreed to, I pretty much felt like I could throw up for about 6 weeks prior. Even on the day of the actual class, I spent most of the morning considering how I might possibly cancel at the last minute because of a rare case of vocal hemorrhoids. I have nothing to TEACH! Why did I agree to this? Was I drunk?
The second thing I signed up to do this past month was even more daunting. I agreed to accept an invitation to speak at a retreat that my hometown Christian high school was having for its students…sort of a “Back To School” opportunity for each student to take inventory of what God wanted to do, in and through them, in the coming academic year. Again, because I initially believed the invitation was about performing (comfort zone) I readily agreed…but only after I realized it was really about connecting off stage and sharing some of my experience, did I realize I had zero credibility with these kids. Zero insight and zero clothes to wear that would trick them into my coolness. (The next time you feel remotely
good about yourself, try saying anything interesting to a room full of 16 year old boys…you will quickly re-evaluate your worth. And whatever you do, do NOT try and tell a joke). So once again, I began to perspire heavily and beg God for a sudden illness.
The irony, of course, is that I decided to speak to both groups about the topic of “growth.” I spent many hours in preparation and prayer, considering how to best convey the importance of identifying the seed that God is growing in our lives…how to water it…how to expose it to the proper amounts of sun and shade…how to treat the soil of our lives so that the seed has the best chance of taking root and sprouting something green…how to then harvest and care for the fruit our lives produce, and then lastly, how to prune back the dead branches so that what is alive, is not threatened by what is no longer.
And it wasn’t until weeks after both events, that I realized that God had done some pretty serious pruning in me.
I always imagined that trimming the dead stuff from my life would be pretty obvious…that it would look like glaring sin or very evident failure…you know, the brown stuff in the garden. In this case, though, I needed to trim back some growth that had just gotten a bit too pretty…and green…and self-sufficient and prideful. And comfortable. And shady. And by making myself available to God, by saying ‘yes’ to some new and awkward growth opportunities that weren’t designed to set me up for success, unlike most of what I typically agree to, I cleared some brush and made some room for something new to grow.
Grow on, sproutlets.
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