table

A brief break from work and dash to the far coast, I sit with my elbow hanging over the isle on my fourth flight in less the 24 hours. This is the very meaning of illogical, a hundred and fifty people in a fiberglass tube hurtling forty thousand feet through the air at five hundred miles an hour. The physics is bewildering yet I am more likely to die behind the wheel of my Honda. Windows have been elusive this trip and I’ve hardly seen the ground. All the mountains of California and Colorado pass below without so much as a hello.

It was an exciting trip though. I had the chance to play guitar for an artist I greatly admire for her wisdom and sincerity. Her father has always told her that when she opens her mouth, she allow the spirit to fill it, boldly proclaiming the works of the Lord in song. This is a charge she carries out with humility, and I was blessed to be involved.

We went to Saddleback, a massive church in Orange county best known for its mega-best selling pastor. The event was a conference for worship leaders from as far away as Japan, a time for the potentially stretched and exhausted to be filled. I know that feeling too well, and it is a privilege to be a part of something like this.

I don’t play a lot of gigs these days, and I look forward to them when they come. This particular gig was a great opportunity to work with someone new and I was unusually nervous. That’s not to say I don’t get the usual pre-show jitters, but this was different. The band had been told we needed to be perfect, and while I pursue perfection in my playing, I have never been told up front that it had to be. With every day that passed and every listen through the songs, I grew increasingly nervous and a stone formed in my belly, ever expanding and growing heavy.

In Luke 14, Jesus has dinner with a group of Pharisees and teachers in the home of a prominent leader. While there, he shares a parable about a wedding feast, telling those in attendance that it is better to not sit in a place of honor, for if someone more distinguished than you were to come along, you might be asked to move. Such an occurrence would be humiliating. Jesus teaches, rather, to sit at the end of the table, in a place of humility, so that the master might invite you to move to a seat of honor. The proud humiliated and the humble exalted, I have long feared being the proud.

A day or two ago I was reading my way through Psalms and came to number 23. It is one of those pieces of scripture that makes you stop for a moment, like how your eyes might stop on a book you’ve read in the middle of a shelf filled with others you haven’t. David writes so romantically about his God and shepherd, and I am struck by how simple and elegant this poem is. In the last verse, David speaks of a table, possibly a banquet table, prepared for a feast “in the presence of his enemies.” David is basically saying that while the shepherd guards and protects him, God also seeks to bless and honor David while humiliating the proud and wicked. I would imagine David’s seat at this table would be quite close to the master’s.

Having read both passages near each other, I was struck by the parallel of the two tables. The scriptures, like any great work of literature, do not repeat imagery thoughtlessly and in the face of this coming gig, I began to pray that I come humbly to the table God has prepared for me. I know in faith that God will honor the humble pursuit of the gifts He’s given and I dwelled on this idea for a while. But what of my enemies? The nerves, questions, and worry over the coming gig made it quite clear who the enemy was.

Much of my life has been spent fighting myself. The petty insecurities, the self-imposed confusion, silent and public fears, it has all been there at some point. Brennan Manning, in one of his books, refers to, “The Impostor”, the false-self capable of taking over our lives. Eventually the impostor will remove all memory of the true self, most people never being aware they have made this transformation. I have lived as the impostor, and in these times, I feel like I still do. All the while, the true self, the man God has already created me to be, sits bound in captivity and out of thoughts. As I read the words of David, I know full well that these fears and insecurities are my enemy.

The morning of the gig, I sat on my hotel bed with the window open and the cool Californian breeze blowing through. I turned to the next Psalm, number 24, and realized it was the source scripture, almost word for word, for a song we were going to perform later in the day. I paused for a moment and considered the timing, the fact that I had started in Genesis close to 8 months ago and that every day I did or did not read my Bible led me to reading this particular section on this particular day. Encouragement overwhelmed me and I felt no nerves for the rest of the day. Aside from my in-ears breaking on the first song, the gig went great. For all my anxiety, it felt like I’d played that gig a hundred times before. My table had been prepared, indeed.

Today I consider the impostor. So many of David’s songs and poems speak of these ever relentless foes bent on his destruction, and I wonder how many were flesh and how many were spirit. The battle of my life has certainly been my spirit and the forces inside me that seek to undo me. I know this is dramatic, but I am amazed (not in the good way) that I am 25 years old and still struggle with fear and insecurity. My identity gradually aligns with the insecurity and before I know it, I am lost in it. I could never count the number of times I’ve performed in front of an audience, or the occasions in which I’ve opened myself up to another person, yet so often it feels like the first time I’ve done it. It is an amazing path I have traveled, and as I sit on the plane, flying high over the midwest, I know there is a long way to go, yet I am reminded still of the good shepherd. The impostor and I have more battles to fight, but God is faithful and his work has already been done.