One day (I'm still not quite sure when), something changed and I snapped like a broken twig. Criticism. It was some time between my barbie and boyband phases. I was singing along to my favorite CD when my friend turned to me, gave me a weird look, and said, "You sing funny." A few months later another friend told me nearly the same thing. Insecurity consumed me in an instant, bottling up and sealing my singing voice somewhere deep inside for the next few years. I stopped singing in church. I would stand with everyone else but my lips remained motionless. I refused to hum a single note for my friends or family. Music was dead in my lungs.
Fast forward a few years... at age eleven I decided I wanted to play guitar, so I received a cheap acoustic Yamaha for Christmas. It sat in my room collecting dust for the next year until my parents agreed to let me have guitar lessons. With every new worship song I learned, a desire grew to sing again. I started mouthing the words to worship songs in church, but I still refused to sing out loud. Finally my voice came out. Very quietly, I sang "Blessed Be Your Name" in my room with the door shut, hoping that no one would hear me.
Eight months later I became the worship leader for my youth group--the worship leader who refused to sing. The first year or so was disastrous. I wasn't good and I knew it. I made others sing for me while I "led" with my guitar. Over time, I pushed my voice to sing more and more, harder and louder, but it wasn't easy. Constant criticisms and comparisons to the previous worship leader knocked me down repeatedly. I was obsessed with others' opinions of me. I thought I had to live up to their expectations because if I didn't, I was a failure vocally.
The Lord provided me with multiple opportunities to serve Him through music. In high school I played occasionally for chapel services at my school, but I would never sing into the microphone and I would never play alone. Still, I had to sing, even though my voice was quiet. The older I became, the more the lyrics I sang came alive to me--they meant everything to me!
The summer after high school I worked at a Christian camp several miles from home. I grew closer to the Lord than I had ever been before in my life that summer. It was there that my voice crept out of hiding. I spent hours after work sitting on the sandy beach, worshiping without shame. No one could keep me from singing to my Savior!
To this day I struggle with hearing the sound of my own voice lifted up in song. Whenever someone comes along with a better singing voice than me, my insecurity comes back in full force. For every compliment I'm given in regards to my singing, I receive two criticisms--one from friends or acquaintances and one from myself. Sometimes I wish I knew the truth. Is my singing really that awful? I've almost given up more times than I can count. I doubt every compliment as well as the unmistakable calling to music I felt so strongly in eighth grade.
This is my struggle, and though I don't understand it, I can't be silent. My Savior must be praised! My soul must sing! I know my voice is weak, but how can I keep it in when when the music is bursting forth from my heart?!!
My question is this: Is it really necessary to tear someone down and cause them permanent grief in the name of keeping them humble? Is this really our job? The words we say have a profound effect on people. If we feel the need to set others straight, shouldn't we, after prayerful consideration, take our brother aside without pride and arrogance, and lovingly explain the truth with tears in our eyes instead of smug expressions on our faces? Don't misunderstand me. I'm not saying that we should puff one another up with flattery and falsehood.
Maybe my story is pathetic and meaningless to you. Maybe you wonder why I don't just get over it and quit worrying about man's opinion. As I mentioned earlier, this is my struggle--this is what I deal with on a daily basis. I didn't write this entry to acquire anyone's pity or to receive compliments. I wrote it to cause readers to consider their words and the effect they have on others.
After all, my greatest fear is that all the criticism might be true...
