Bradley Moore's Open Salon Blog

A Tasteful Examination of Christians and Salty Language

Sat, 21 Nov 2009 13:11:02 -0500

Is it okay for Christians to Curse?

I have a friend who works in the Christian publishing industry. He was recently telling me how conservative it is, and for emphasis, he added, “We can’t even print the b-word.” I scrolled through a catalogue of words in my head, trying to guess which b-word he might be referring to. There were so many choices. Was it bitch, bastard, balls? Surely any one of those could be the vulgar culprit. Or, perhaps there was some other curse word that I hadn’t been exposed to yet; some urban street-slang that these publishers were on to, one that would soon be infiltrating our suburban high schools, possibly even making its way into the mouths of our church youth. I remained silent, not wanting to guess the wrong word or expose my lack of street cred regarding the youthful slang that the Christian publishers were so down with. God forbid, I certainly didn’t want to show my age. Not hearing a response, my friend volunteered the answer to this trivia question. “The word is ‘breast’.” He said. “Breast. Can you imagine that?”

No, I can’t. What I can imagine, though, is the abrupt and final termination of any misguided notions I had for snagging a book deal within the Christian publishing industry. I pictured myself sitting across the desk from a pastorly editor, who is suddenly infuriated upon reading the word “ass” in my manuscript. Enraged and offended, he pulls me up by the ear and briskly marches me through the building, shoving me out the door, back onto the cold, harsh streets of Grand Rapids.

I never thought of the word ‘breast’ as risqué, really, not when it is used in an appropriate context. I mean, we are all adults here. And I bet most readers are either women or married men, which means that we either have them, or have had them in our sights at one point or another. Why work so hard to pretend that the breast is not a functional part of a Christian’s every day lifestyle? Read the Song of Solomon, for goodness sake.

It’s not that I am a foul-mouthed libertarian. I have always been fairly conservative when it comes to language. The Christian publishers’ attitude reminded me of my own conservative upbringing, and the taboo that was expressly reserved for any utterance remotely resembling a curse word. I never, ever heard swearing in my home, growing up. Even the words that were quoted during King-James bible stories in church and Sunday School, words like “hell” and “ass” (the animal ass, not the body part), were strictly verboten. However, with age, a more robust group of Christian male-friends, and quite possibly hanging around too much with my own teen-age daughters, I have definitely loosened up my tongue a bit. Especially as I started writing, I developed a healthy respect and appreciation for the use of a salty word now and then to round out a story, or to drive home a point for emphasis.

Plus, it’s pretty much how we talk. “We,” meaning the friends from work and church who I spend time with, those with whom I fellowship with and share my life with, even the most spiritually mature brothers and sister in Christ. We feel quite free to use an off-the-record reference now and then. Not every day, not usually in a crowd, and certainly not in every conversation, but occasionally, yes. I know several men, spiritual pillars of their churches, who will occasionally drop the word “shit” into their conversations with me. And hey, to me, it usually sounds just fine. Sometimes that is exactly the right word choice, just what the doctor ordered. “Golly, Brad, I think I just got on my pastor’s shit list,” one gentleman confides. Other times these folks are referring to the actual tactical meaning of the word, especially coming from those who are associated with the agricultural industries – those hard working men and women who till the soil and work with livestock. “I was out in the barn and got shit all over my shoes!” the godly Christian farmer will say to me, and he doesn’t even know that it was once a forbidden word in my Evangelical fundamentalist household growing up. None of these gentle folk are being vulgar, foul-mouthed, or inappropriate. We are just friends, talking to each other about our lives, in our own tongue.

So why can’t it be so in my own writing, where I am also sharing my self and spiritual life with my friends, you the reader? How we talk in real life is not at all like the Christian publishing market portrays. I’ve been a Christian for a long time, but sometimes I can not relate to the sanitized, simplistic, hyped-up and over-spiritualized language that is often passed for inspirational literature. Everyone is trying to out-motivate everyone else. I worry that these authors and publishers are more concerned with spiritually one-upping the reader, rather than getting down to the mat, revealing the messy truth of life, which is where the bulk of my real, normal life is taking place. It just doesn’t sound real.

Of course there’s still plenty of insights and inspiration to be gained from reading and listening to the pastors, motivational speakers, theologians, and writers who are out on the circuit today. And God knows we all can use some wisdom and guidance on our journeys of faith. But lately, for me, I am too often left with an awkward disconnect between their well-meaning spiritual advice and my real-world experiences. It’s as if these experts don’t quite get what my life as a “normal” person is like. I mean normal in the sense that giving spiritual advice is not my primary occupation.

I can understand the reluctance of Christians to print or speak words that may compromise or call their piety into question. Maybe they find it hard to know where to draw the line, and thus prefer to err on the side of caution. None of us want to fall under James’s admonition of being unable to tame the tongue, “uttering both praise and cursing out of the same mouth” (James 3:9-10).

I try to imagine if Jesus ever used a cuss word. Especially the teenage carpenter-apprentice Jesus, after accidentally hitting his finger with a hammer. I doubt it. But what about the disciples?

Take Simon Peter, for instance. Well, no question there. Peter definitely cursed. He was the one with the potty-mouth, the one that the other disciples had to keep apologizing for. “Oops, sorry Jesus, about my brother’s TRASH-MOUTH. He got into this bad habit of cursing when he was working in the Gallilean Fish Workers Union a few years back. But he’s a good guy. PETER CAN YOU PLEASE JUST TONE IT DOWN? Goll-lee! Jimminy Crumpets!” Peter was probably no different from any other fisherman you might be acquainted with – you know, “salt of the earth” and all. He may have toned it down some after becoming a full-fledged apostle, but I can still see him dropping some Aramaic f-bombs when he got worked up – he did have a temper, after all.

What about Paul? Rumor has it that if you look carefully at the original Greek manuscripts, you will find that he used a saucy word in one of the epistles, and not by accident. This scandalous idea was first presented to me over twenty years ago while in college, by a speaker at one of our Inter-Varsity Fellowship meetings. This gentleman was expounding on Philippians 3:8, “I consider everything a loss compared to the greatness of knowing Christ Jesus my Lord for whose sake I have lost all things. I consider them rubbish, that I may gain Christ.” After the speaker preached on the magnitude of Paul’s commitment (“So should ours be,” he said), he went on to tell us that the word “rubbish” is not quite the literal translation. He continued on this tangent and with a wink and a sideways smirk told us, “You folks might find it interesting that the original Greek word Paul uses here is a slang word. It means something a little more explicit than the word ‘garbage.’ It actually refers to human excrement.”

“Whoa! Dude! All right, Paul!” That’s what most of us guys were thinking. But I never heard anything more about that translation again, and avoided saying that particular slang word for human excrement when describing my commitment to Christ, or in any other context, for that matter. Fast forward twenty-five years. A few months ago I stumbled across that same proposition while reading a book called “The New Christians,” by Tony Jones. Tony makes the exact same point in a little sidebar – that the Greek word Paul uses in Philippians 3:8, skubalon, is the equivalent of our vernacular word, “shit.” Most bible translations will use words like “refuse” or “dung” or “garbage.” But the real translation from the Greek is a slang word for human excrement. You know what it is, so I won’t say it again.

Well, there you have it. Paul used a street-word for its shock value, to get his point across. But Paul wasn’t “cursing” just then, was he? He was using a slang word in a certain context to bring a punch to his very strong point. There are certain slang words that are actually appropriate at times, more relevant or at the very least functional. There’s a big difference between using slang and actually cursing. Cursing involves outright vulgarity with an intention of offending and condemning the listener. Which is not what I, nor my good brothers and sisters ever intend when speaking. And, I guess that’s my point. Or my question. Just what exactly qualifies as a curse word anymore?

I serve on a Board with one of the pastors from a mega-church in our area. A couple weeks ago we were about to receive a presentation from someone who wasn’t quite so polished in his use of language. Like Peter, I warned the pastor that the presenter may accidentally drop a couple of off-color words into his presentation, by accident. Words not typically heard in his weekly sermons. This pastor replied: “So what. I think an off-color word can be refreshing once in a while.” This is actually code for “I am so effing tired of being censored by the Evangelical language police.”

Can you imagine that? A pastor who welcomes salty language as “refreshing?” Maybe I can someday imagine a world where Christian-oriented material is published with language that really sounds like me, my friends, my church, like we are having a real conversation about real life. Not that it would be nasty, irreverent or blasphemous, and certainly not cursing others, just talking. That’s quite a stretch, I know. But, dang-it-all, I can dream, can’t I?

When Jesus Was a Consultant

Tue, 17 Nov 2009 14:11:09 -0500

I worked as a management consultant for fifteen years before settling down with the company I am currently with. Like attorneys and used-car salesmen, consultants are subject to their fair share of derision and ridicule. I honestly couldn’t tell you why, since it is such a fine and upstanding profession, but I hear it all the time. An enthusiastic colleague will approach me in the hallway with a loud voice, coming a bit too close to my face, saying, “Hey, Brad! You were a consultant, right? Well, you know what they say about consultants?”

“No,” I say patiently, wondering if this could possibly lead to even a tiny shred of amusement.

My colleague continues. “Consultants are the ones who borrow your watch to tell you what time it is!”

Yes, ha ha. That is so funny. Especially the 50^th time I’ve heard it.

Or, how about this clever twist on the light-bulb joke:

Q: How many consultants does it take to change a light bulb?

A: It depends – How large is your budget?

Now that one really is funny.

Some have even gone so far as to claim that consulting is the oldest profession in the world, pointing to the serpent in the Garden of Eden as the first consultant. “Come on, Eve! Take a bite,” says Eve’s crafty advisor. “Trust me, it’s best practice. That apple will make you really, really smart. And pretty, too!”

You can go ahead and make all the consulting jokes that you want. The truth is, being a management consultant rocked. It was stimulating, challenging, and you got to see the direct results of your work. I liked the way you could walk into a business situation without any preconceived ideas of what was what, get a lay of the land, and then generate a solution which usually made a great deal of sense to everyone in the room. Then after the brilliant implementation was complete, you shake hands, pack up your PowerPoint presentations, collect your fee and move on to the next job. It was very rewarding.

I recently developed an even greater admiration for the profession when I discovered that Jesus himself had a brief stint as a management consultant. That’s right, Jesus was a business consultant. You can read it for yourself, right there in the Gospel of John, chapter 21. At this point in the gospel story Jesus had already risen from the dead, but he was a little spotty on making public appearances. The disciples hadn’t seen him in a while, and I am sure they were getting antsy, unsure of what they were supposed to do next. Maybe they were bored, too. One day Peter looks out at the lake and says, “I’m going fishing.” Just like that, like he couldn’t take one more minute of waiting around for nothing to happen. A few of the other disciples jumped on board. “Good idea, Peter. I’m with you.”

So off they went into Peter’s boat, back to their old fishing jobs that they knew so well. And who knows? Maybe they were even hoping to make a couple of bucks while they were at it, in an attempt to do something productive instead just sitting around all day in that stuffy Upper Room.

They ended up fishing all night long without getting any results. Not only had Jesus stood them up for the past few weeks, but they couldn’t even do their old job right. Nothing seemed to be going their way. Those fishermen were probably not in the best of spirits by the time the sun began to rise that morning. Next thing you know, Jesus shows up on the scene. He’s walking along the beach in a oh-it’s-no-big-deal-I-am-risen-from-the-dead-and-I-think-today-maybe-I’ll-just-make-a-fire-and-cook-breakfast-for-my friends kind of casual way. The disciples didn’t really noticed him.

Jesus calls out to the boat from the shore, “Hey guys, have you caught anything?” And they shout back, “No!” Then Jesus goes into consulting mode and offers some business advice to his client: “Throw your net down on the other side, and you will catch some fish.”

Well. I am a little surprised that none of those hearty fishermen had thought of that idea before. They had been working all night, after all, and I am pretty sure there were some seasoned professionals in the crew. But that’s how it is when you are a consultant. You always see the thing that is so obvious, yet no one else has noticed because they are so darn close to it.

Upon hearing this very basic suggestion on how to do their jobs better, the men shrug their shoulders. “Ok, what the hay,” they mumble, and down goes the net, across to the other side of the boat. And, Surprise! The net immediately fills up with fish, becoming so heavy that they can’t even heave it up onto the boat. “Who was that mysterious consultant on the shore?” One of them probably asked. “We should hire him on a regular basis.” Then it suddenly dawns on John. He lets the net slip from his hands as he slowly turns towards the shore. He takes a closer look at that consultant on the beach. He is frozen for a second and the breath goes out of him. “It is the Lord!” he whispers. Then his face lights up. “It’s Jesus!” He shouts to the others. “It’s him! Jesus came back to see us!”

Hearing this, Peter plunges into the water, splashing and flailing back to shore so that he can be the first one to reach Jesus while the others lug in their awesome haul. As the disciples make their way back to the shore, they smell something good and notice that Jesus has a nice toasty fire going with a couple loaves of bread and some fish on the stove. Then they all share a very nice reunion brunch.

I think of how often that story plays out in our careers. We all have gone through periods where we are beating our heads against the wall trying to make ends meet, doing our best to hit goal or meet projections, and nothing is happening. And maybe you haven’t seen Jesus in a while, either. You are frustrated, sweating, cursing, despondent and exhausted, wondering where Jesus went and why he hasn’t shown up lately to help you out. “Why does he not understand my situation!” you think to yourself.

Then Jesus breezes in and says, “Hi! Watcha doin’?” It seemed like he wasn’t paying much attention to you, but maybe it was the other way around. The truth is that Jesus knows much, much more about your little situation than you give him credit for. He usually has a plan, too, but for some reason he doesn’t think we always need to know about it. But this is what I do know: Jesus cares deeply about the details of our business lives, as much as he cares about any other aspect of our lives. He knows how hard we work, how important our jobs are, and how discouraging and bleak our circumstances can be at times. And although he may not necessarily create a magical path to success for our every endeavor, he certainly is active, moving and breathing in and among our very existence, flowing through all of our creative efforts.

We should not hesitate for one second to ask Jesus to help us with our jobs, because he obviously wants to be involved. Sometimes he may even surprise us with a big catch, followed by a lovely brunch to celebrate.

Or, he may send in a consultant.

Your Life's Masterpiece - In Just One Word? (Part Two)

Thu, 5 Nov 2009 19:11:41 -0500

Have you noticed the trend of one-word book titles hitting the market lately? A couple of popular one-word books that you may be familiar with are “Outliers” and “Blink,” both authored by hip business-social observer Malcolm Gladwell. There’s also “Free” by Wired magazine’s Editor-in-Chief, Chris Andersen, where he tries to convince us that future business profit models will be based on giving things away rather than charging for them. Or have you read “Sway,” by Ori and Ron Brafman? It’s about the subliminal powers at work in our impressionable brains which cause us to make irrational decisions. Have you heard of “Nudge” by Richard Thaler and Cass Sunstein? I hadn’t, but last time I looked, it was number 7 on the NY Times paperback business bestsellers - another book about the choices we make on health, happiness and money. Then there’s the recent “Payback” by Margaret Atwood, and “Unstuck” by innovation and leadership consultant, Keith Yamashita.

I could go on and on, but I think you get the point. These authors have achieved the enviable goal of distilling their entire content into one catchy, hugely marketable, definitive word that sums up precisely what they are all about. You not only “get it” when you hear the hook of the title, but it’s easy to talk about, and pass the word on to others.

So it got me thinking about all this time and effort and passion I spend on my Shrinking the Camel Blog, trying to pin down the integration of my spiritual life with my career. What am I trying to say? If I were to write a book that distilled the entire mission and mad ramblings of this Blog into one word, could I do it? What would that one word be?

I thought about this for several days, forcing myself to choose. Finally I came up with the One Word for my phantom book.

“Tool”

Can you picture it? I think it would have nice ring, especially when being discussed over the airwaves. “Hello, I’m Terry Gross, and this is Fresh Air, from National Public Radio! Today we are talking to Bradley J. Moore about his new book, which talks about the counterintuitive link between business and spiritual life, called ‘Tool.’ Welcome Mr. Moore.”

“Hello, Terry. It’s my pleasure.” (They always say that, when Terry welcomes them)

I know, "Tool" may sound kind of lame and you may not like it very much, but this title is actually rich with many layers of meanings. Here is my thinking behind it:

I like the snarky, self-deferential tone of the slang. You knew that would be the first thing I went for, right? And the slang is probably the first association that anyone under 25 years of age will think of when they see this word. I asked my teenage daughters what they thought "Tool" meant, and they said, "It's someone who thinks they're really cool, but they're not." Perfect! The slang meaning for the word “Tool” could also be something like “nerd,” “dope,” “loser,” or “idiot” (among other things). So it gives off a bit of that tongue-in-cheek, self-deferential slant which is consistent with my writing, adding just a hint of irreverence. We can’t take ourselves too seriously, now, can we?
We are ultimately vessels to be used by God. Here comes the paradoxical spiritual element: “Tool” infers that I am surrendered to God for doing His work, rather than focusing on myself, my ego and my own achievements. This is a very difficult concept for most of us Type-A, hard-driving control-freaks to grasp, but I know that it is possible, and probably best that we just accept this. Thus it is front-and-center in the title.
We acknowledge our unique gifts and talents are directly from God and they are something that can be useful to others. Most tools are used for very specific types of productive work. I am wired with a very specific set of God-given skills, abilities, personality, etc. that can be put to good use for others.
There is a strong business/management connotation. When I worked for consulting firms, we were always referring to our “tools” or “toolbox” as the set of methodologies, templates and procedures that we could apply to our clients to help them become more effective in business. Same is true of tools for connecting spiritual and business life, and I think it would make for a good business-oriented read.

So there ya go. I am totally God’s Corporate Tool.

What about you? Could you distill your entire identity and purpose into one word?

Did you enjoy the dream sequence in my previous post involving famous literary agents approaching me about my brilliant work?

Don’t you hate it when Blogs ask these obviously leading questions at the end of the post?

Your Life's Masterpiece - In Just One Word?

Sat, 31 Oct 2009 10:10:09 -0400

Imagine that this very day you are approached by one of the most exclusive and sought-after literary agents in the country. Perhaps it is the reclusive Sarah Chalfant of The Wylie Agency, or the discriminating Rachel Vater of Folio Literary Management.

She has been watching you, she says, following your every move and closely monitoring those brilliant Blog entries and witty Tweets. As she speaks, you can tell that she is barely able to contain her enthusiasm, because she wants desperately for you to join her A-list of clients. However, she controls herself with a cool and detached demeanor, seeing as she is a distinguished professional. Plus she also wants to make a favorable impression on you.

The truth is, you’ve been expecting this call for years now, because you knew all along that you were really, really special – particularly when it came to expressing yourself through writing – and that God’s plan for your life surely involved a much more robust distribution channel for sharing these inspirational vignettes beyond the pathetic dribble of visitors from your daily Blog traffic.

As she sets down her tea cup with Ivy League precision, you can’t help but notice her most exquisitely manicured hands. She pats at her skirt for a moment, then looks up at you and says, “Your work… It is a gift from heaven! I already have three major publishers lined up for auction. This book of yours will single-handedly revive the publishing industry, I am certain. You will be huge!”

“Well, Duh,” you think to yourself. But instead you say, “I appreciate this so much. You don’t know what it means to me, having my work acknowledged by one with such refined taste as yours.”

She gives a half-interested nod, but is preoccupied. “There’s just one thing…” she says, coyly, tilting her head ever so slightly while stroking your cat, which has silently appeared on the sofa where she is seated.

“Sure,” you reply. “Anything for this book deal. What is it?”

“Your book…” She begins, but her voice falls to a whisper. “Your…masterpiece -” She pauses, gazing out the window at the pattering raindrops against the gray sky. A clap of thunder cracks the silence. She returns a determined, penetrating gaze. “The title of your book – It can only be one word.”

Your face turns white with the shock of this seemingly absurd demand. She continues with a fierce resolve. “Your entire work must be summed up with just one word! The publishers insist!” The hissing of her words hang in the air like a cloud of smoke as she stands to her feet. “It’s the only way this book will sell!”

“One word? My entire life’s work? Are you crazy?”

With that, she exits as quickly as she arrived. You notice that a business card has been left behind, which has fallen to the floor. Picking it up, you study the bold font announcing her fabulous name, and you detect the faintest scent of her lingering perfume. Her voice echoes in your head over and over again with her dire command: “Just one word! Just one word!”

To be continued.

What Are You Afraid Of? Don't Let Fear Steal Your Dreams

Thu, 22 Oct 2009 19:10:58 -0400

When I was twenty years old I had an intense interest in songwriting. I wanted more than anything in the world to sign a publishing contract and have some of my songs recorded by major artists. I knew it was a brutally competitive industry, but many people had told me that my songs were pretty good. More importantly, I felt that I was “special” and God would make a way for me, without much effort on my part. Of course, now I know that there is a name for that: it’s a mental disorder called Delusions of Grandeur. To a trained professional, this kind of magical thinking would have been a small signal that my spiritual life was dangerously bordering on a psychotic break with reality. But never mind, because back then, all this crazy God-talk fit perfectly into my hyper-holy spirit-filled outlook on life.

So I entered a few songwriting contests. That was the extent of my plan. I sincerely believed God would take care of the rest. One of the songwriting contests led to a publishing contract with an upstart publishing firm out of Los Angeles, headed up by a well-known and reputable artist. Lo and behold, it did appear as though God came through in delivering the goods on this far-fetched dream. Soon I received actual correspondence with a real, live music executive and producer – a name I actually recognized from the credits on the liner notes on some of the albums I owned! First order of business: this guy wanted me to craft my songs to sound more like the Psychedelic Furs. It was the early 80’s, after all. I got right to work.

“Praise God!” I thought to myself, with a combination of excitement, spiritual arrogance, and a sudden validation of artistic superiority. I made an extra effort not to sound too show-offy at the next bible study meeting. I found that if I pressed my lips together real hard and furrowed my brows slightly, it gave off the right effect of modesty.

When it was time to share our prayer requests and praises, I waited until a couple others had shared, and then I chimed in. “Umm, I have a Praise.” I was looking down at the floor, concentrating on maintaining that sincere expression on my face. “I was signed to a contract with a publishing company, and I am just so thankful to the Lord to that He is choosing to use my gifts and talents to touch millions of lives.”

Notice how I said that I ‘was signed’ to a contract rather than “I signed” a contract. There’s a big difference, you know. It made me sound like I was pursued by several publishers who all wanted a piece of me, a rising star among songwriters. What I left out was the part that said, “This was the only thing that happened to show up, and I have never met these people in person, and all they heard was a couple of songs, and I know nothing about the publishing industry or what the heck it was that I signed.”

I continued: “See how child-like faith can lead to miraculous results?” This I posed as an important lesson in humility for those lesser-talented friends sitting around the circle at College and Career fellowship group that night. They nodded enthusiastically, saying how they knew I was special all along, from the moment they saw me first leading the worship team.

Unfortunately, within a matter of months, this publishing company went out of business, and that was that. The phones were disconnected. No more correspondence with a fancy LA music producer. No more false modesty to worry about with my friends. I just sat, paralyzed, on my bed in a dejected trance, listening over and over again to the gravelly voice of the Psychedelic Furs on my turntable, singing, “Heaven – is the whole of your heart… And heaven – don’t tear you apart…” What does that even mean? I didn’t know what to do next.

Twenty-eight years later, I’ll tell you what I should have done next. What I should have done, was to get off my ass, pack my suitcase, move to Nashville or Los Angeles, where all the action was, and tried beating down the doors of other, more established publishers and record companies for a couple of years. If it didn’t work out, then, fine. Go to Plan B, back to graduate school. Or even to plan C, which didn’t exist yet, but certainly could be arranged. At least I would have given it a shot. But I was too afraid and intimidated by the unknown.

Instead, I figured it was the end of the road for me with music. I gave up – quickly, easily, and without hesitation. I didn’t mention anything about this to God, because I knew we would both be embarrassed by it. I wanted to spare Him the awkward conversation. The novel experience of “not getting exactly what I wanted from God just when I wanted it” didn’t fit into my theological framework at the time. How could God set up such a tease, handing over to me something that I had dreamed about for so long, and then just snatching it away? Why would God do that to me? It didn’t compute. So I just kind of buried it, and went on to graduate school to do something else.

I was good at academic life. I knew how to go to lectures and study and write essays and take exams and get really good grades. I liked the way it was already structured for you, and all you had to do was show up on campus and plug in. The only decisions you had to make were housing, a meal plan, and your choices of coursework. But I couldn’t stop thinking about that music business thing — getting in a plane by myself and going to a big city where I have never been before, where I didn’t know anyone, and then finding a job and an apartment and meeting new friends, this I could not fathom. On top of that, the thought of actually taking initiative, making phone calls, scheduling appointments, approaching complete strangers about doing business? Competing with other musicians who were probably more talented than I was? This was terrifying to me. I couldn’t do it. You might as well have asked me to jump out of a flying airplane.

I occasionally have a recurring dream which goes like this:

I am in a concert hall stadium that is packed with thousands of people. I am standing in the wings, off on the left side of the stage, looking out at the vast crowd. The stage is empty except for a beautiful black grand piano set up in the center. It suddenly dawns on me: the crowds are waiting for me to perform! I start to panic. And I’m thinking, “How did I get myself into this? I don’t know what to play! I haven’t practiced anything for years! This is so wrong!” But the time has come, and I am pushed out onto the stage. I walk slowly to the piano, pull out the bench, and sit down. I look down at the keyboard, trying to remember what it was that I am supposed to do. The crowd is patiently waiting. I am utterly terrified.

I believe that the strength of our faith in God can be directly measured by how often we are terrified. If you haven’t had that nauseous, sinking feeling in your stomach lately, then maybe you have not been exercising your faith enough. And you are probably not growing.

Fear is inevitably the thing that holds most of us back from reaching our potential, or from even trying. That’s not really breaking news, or anything. There are volumes of self-help books devoted to this subject. But I believe it is a healthy exercise to visit this from time to time, to assess the trade-off between our fears and getting anything accomplished in our lives. I have discovered that fear, goes hand in hand with faith and fulfillment.

I was not raised to face my fears or to even name them, for that matter. Instead, I grew up thinking that fear and discomfort were things that I should run away from. Predictably, I often ended up disappointed. My approach during my early adult years went like this: if I wanted something badly enough, I thought I should PRAY REALLY HARD and wait for it to happen. I honestly believed that if something was meant to be, then I really didn’t have to do anything, but just wait for God to “show up.” Instead of taking action, I would pray, fast, pray harder, wait on the Lord, read the bible looking for divine messages, and hope. Usually nothing happened, and I would chalk it up to “not God’s will” and try to move on to something else. I was very good at over-spiritualizing my disappointments, and of course it allowed me to avoid ever having to take responsibility for anything.

Let me tell you, it is a tortuous state of being to have huge dreams and no tolerance for fear. So instead of pursuing a career in songwriting, I made the trade off to safety and comfort by doing things that were more familiar, but not necessarily aligned with my idea of God’s dream for my life at the time. Frankly, ladies and gentlemen, to be brutally honest about it, I just didn’t have the balls. That’s right, you heard me. And after giving this a great deal of thought over my life, I believe that’s exactly what God is going to tell me when I stand before him at His eternal throne on Judgment Day.

Once His infinite engulfing stream of love has covered me over, so that I know I’ll be okay no matter what, He’ll look at me and say (in so many words), “Brad, you have no idea what you missed out on, because you were so afraid of so many things. Remember that music thing?” I’ll cringe and go, “No. I mean, well, Yes.” Then I’ll try to change the subject. “Hey, that’s a lovely beam of light shining over there! I don’t think I’ve ever seen that color before! Is that an angel or…”

He’ll cut me right off and stare me down, forcing me to admit the harsh truth about my behavior. But in a loving way, of course. I will have no choice, but to face the music.

“Do we have to bring that up right now?” I’ll ask. And He’ll say. “Yes, I want to talk about it. Listen, Brad, it was you, not Me. You didn’t give me much to work with, you know? You did have a choice, my son. And you chose to indulge your fears.”

I believe we’ll all get a little spanking on that day. And maybe not for the things we think we should. We are all so horrified about being called out for our embarrassing sins, but what about all those times we just crapped out because we didn’t have the guts to do something that would have made a big difference in our lives, or someone else’s? I can imagine God’s comments to the line-up of some of the friends and acquaintances I’ve known over the years – His commentary on how we all fell short of our true potential in life:

“My child, you could have accomplished tremendous things with your career! And the influence and impact you could have had for my kingdom! But you were so timid. You held back. Why?”

“Son, you could have paid a little more attention to your wife, and at least TRIED to learn how to put her before yourself, but you were so self-centered and terrified of intimacy! So much love was left out. You apparently didn’t have the cajones for a real loving relationship.”

“You? You could have stooped down a bit to see other people’s points of view once in while. I was hoping that you would become a little more humble, and learn to listen, but you were so insecure with your fragile little ego that you had to be right all the time. Why were you so afraid of being vulnerable?”

Etc. etc. etc.

And why shouldn’t we be scolded for holding back, being scared, not having enough faith in God, or in ourselves? I have no doubt that God wants us to face our fears head-on, to courageously deal with them, whether it’s speaking in front of a crowd, or taking on more responsibility at work, or going off on that mission trip, or standing up to a peer. This is how you can grow, how you start to see God working in your life. If we are too caught up with the idea of being comfortable, then we’ll never know what we are capable of. We will never know what God might have in store for us.

Not long after I killed my songwriting career, by God’s mercy, He took me through some other circuitous routes where I learned the lessons of how to overcome my fear and false pride and self-sabotaging behaviors. Getting married to a bold and intelligent woman was a big step in the right direction. In the process, I developed some new dreams – dreams for a successful career in business, and a full and loving family life. I started attacking my fears head on by taking on various assignments and jobs, increasing my responsibilities even when I wasn’t sure if I could do it. But you know what? I did do it. Sure, there were bumps in the road every now and then, but with faith in God and support from my wife, I got up and kept going. The more I went out on a limb and tried new things, the more successes I had and the more confident I became about my capabilities. God honored and blessed my hard work. After a while I just got used to the idea of being nervous, anxious, and even terrified sometimes. It’s nothing to be afraid of. It’s part of taking risks. It’s part of growing in my faith. It’s part of living.

So go ahead and embrace those crazy dreams that God put in your head. Attack them, head on. He wants to show your potential – you are capable of way more than you think you are.

Go on, what are you afraid of?