Not a Performance. Just God.

At the risk of sounding like I’m beginning an autobiography…I’ve been thinking about my life. Thinking that the most impactful time was when I was part of the Willow Creek Community Church drama team. 25 years of acting and writing. But more than that, it began a process of discovering who God made me to be, what he created me to do. And that is to write and well, act. I never knew I could do either of those before this drama team came around. More than writing - because it was and continues to be so stressful - I loved acting. Performing. Which has led me to my thoughts this week. 

I have been performing my whole life. I think everyone has to a certain degree. We were taught and then had to practice, or perform, the lessons. To say please and thank you and to be kind. To share, to ask and offer forgiveness. And so much more. None of it came easy; therefore the need to practice and perform.

As I got older, performing became a lifeline for me. Walking into groups of people, meeting 1:1 with someone, job interviews. All of this and more required me to perform. Because in performance, specifically practicing conversations before I arrived at my destination, I found my calm, my answer to anxiety. And I’ve accepted that about myself. I’m a performer and performance serves me well.

Until this past week. 

Last January God put on my heart to start a Prayer Room. Leadership of the church got behind it and it launched in February. Every Tuesday night from 5-7 pm we open up our auditorium for prayer. Worship music plays in the background, prayer cards are available to give words to hurt and needs, blank paper is provided to write and listen to God. And people, including myself, are there to pray for anyone who needs it. It is a place where I have found me, where I am fully me. No rehearsals, no performance. 

Until this past week. When I “performed” a prayer. 

 A few months back, a couple came in for prayer. And I had the privilege of praying for them. God gave me a clear picture of how to encourage them. They left uplifted and hopeful. They came back the next week. No specific picture or words came, but I prayed for them and blessed them. They left disappointed, saying they didn’t hear from God that night. And, unbeknownst to me, the seed of performance prayer was planted. But I didn’t recognize it until this past Tuesday. When I prayed for someone because I felt compelled to not leave them wanting. I said words that, even as I said them, felt hollow. And I realized that this was not the first time.

I came home absolutely sick to my stomach. I felt as though I had blasphemed God, saying words on his behalf that weren’t his heart or words at all. But I had said them to save myself. I barely slept, wrestling with shame, waking up with plans to step down and away from the prayer ministry. 

Until I talked with Sara. Sara is our pastor of women and groups and our various prayer ministries, but more importantly, she is a significant friend and prayer partner. At least once a week we meet up in one of our offices and spend time being vulnerable with each other and then praying. Passionately and fearfully. 

I confessed it all to her, unwilling to hold anything back. She listened to me. And then simply assured me that I wasn’t the only one who battled performance. It’s the dark side of ministry. We feel responsible to lead people to God, to bring hope and freedom, to bring about change. It’s an incredible burden. But leaving a ministry doesn’t do anything except give the enemy a win. God knows full well what we’re up against, where our weaknesses lie, and right now, He was doing a work in me, using that fire of his to burn away the performance tendencies in order to put my complete faith and trust back in Him alone. Then we prayed. Sara prayed for me, I prayed for her. Oh how we prayed. I thought for sure the rest of the office could feel the unmistakable movement of God in our lives, but it was just for us. 

It’s days later and I can’t remember too much about last Tuesday night or the shame I carried. Confession and God’s work in me took it away. Not the awareness but the pain. Tomorrow is Prayer Room night and I will step into it with a renewed and honest humility and caution. Dependent on God and God alone, allowing, asking Him to lead. To promise to do my best to listen and then pray as God leads me. Not a performance. Just God.