motivations: like me

Like Me

The room was humid. A few hundred souls stirred in their seats, listening intently to a man speaking softly at the podium. The ups and downs of his voice reciting verses and lessons made the warmth of the room a little too inviting. Heads nodded, feet tapped, fingers poked - all in a futile attempt to remain awake.

A good half-hour passed before the pastor wrapped up and called for some music while the congregation prayed. She got out of her chair quickly and silently and made her way to the keyboard. Playing a sequence of soothing notes, she closed her eyes and listened to the murmuring of a few hundred voices.

Soon after, the church service ended, and she made her way out to the lobby. The routine was the same - she woke up at 7 a.m. to meet for practice, began playing at 10:30 a.m., wrapped up by 12:30 p.m., and greeted people until the last stragglers left around 1:30 p.m. She generally liked to smile - it was one of her hobbies - but some Sundays, she felt her face becoming numb with the Barbie expression she tried to keep up consistently. As she sipped the burnt coffee, she tended to the fawning elder ladies who admired her playing.

"Beautiful worship today," one woman said.
"I was very much blessed, dear child," another remarked.
"Thank you so much for your kind words," she answered. "Are you heading to South Carolina with your husband this week?" It was sometimes difficult to keep up with everyone's schedule. She bit her lower lip, hoping it was the right one.
"I am," the woman responded. "So nice of you to remember. We're very excited to see our grandchildren at the beach!"
"They are precious," she said, smiling more brightly. She gave a slight nod of the head in another direction, "I'm so sorry, but I need to tend to some matters. Have a wonderful trip, Ingrid."
She wove her way out of the admirer region and headed toward the kitchen to get water.
Before she reached the stack of cups, the pastor stopped her.

“Leah,” he greeted. “Wonderful job today.”
“Thank you for your kind words,” she repeated. “It was a stirring sermon.” She eyed the water cooler that slowly seemed to be running out of water as they spoke.
“My wife and I are having a picnic next Saturday, but we would love to have a time of worship –“ she knew what was coming “- so we were wondering if you would be available that day. We would love for you to come.”
She mentally conjured her planner for the next month. Saturday, unfortunately, was free.
“I think I would be able to stop by,” she answered slowly, being sure to carefully smile a partly noncommittal smile. She was such a pushover. A little boy tentatively pushed down the dispenser button, to no avail. The cooler was empty.
He clapped his hands together. “Wonderful! We will see you then. It’s at 1 p.m., a late lunch, per se. You know where the house is, right?”
She nodded absent-mindedly. Curses. She would just have to wait until she got home.

She headed back into the giant auditorium to help clean up the stage. As she made her way up the stairs, she noticed a man praying fervently, eyes shut with such a force she was afraid he would implode. Death by prayer, she morbidly laughed to herself. Blasphemous thoughts?
“That guy has been sitting here for the past 20 minutes,” the bassist said, following her gaze. “Intense man, kind of an interesting character.”
“Do you know who he is?” she asked while winding up one of the microphone chords.
“Not personally,” he answered. “I think his name was Nathan or something. Apparently, he’s a new believer - heard God’s voice loud and clear while going about his day, telling him to stop conforming to the pattern of this world and start living a transformed life, and bam, stumbled his way into our church a few weeks ago.”
She gave the man another glance before returning to the task at hand. “Interesting.”
The bassist laughed. “Don’t look so glum, Leah,” he teased. “I know it’s tough having to share His voice with a guy you barely know, but let’s not get selfish, yeah?”
She chucked the foam microphone cover at him. “Don’t test me.”

He had been referring to her conviction to go from signing a major record label to becoming part of a worship band at church and going to pharmacy school. She had been in the studio, singing songs about bitter heartbreaks and devious exes when one day, she found herself trapped in the sound box, reluctantly listening to God’s thunderous voice telling her to give it all up for Him.

She complied, shaken with fear and awe of the one God she had only learned about in Sunday school, and also unable to say no to the being who was supposedly omnipotent and omniscient and the alpha and the omega. But as time passed, she felt like she was simply pleasing her human parents.

Her dad was the pastor of a small church in Georgia, and her mother was a doctor who went on missions every year to Mongolia. She had grown up in the church, but she didn’t know who she was kidding when she went around telling people that she had suddenly changed her career path because of God’s undeniable voice; she had never felt too close to religion, much less Christianity.

She finished cleaning, bid farewell, and drove home.

She had always been a people-pleaser. It started with her parents, but then it extended to everyone around her as well. She strived to please her teachers, earning good grades and being the only source of sanity and helpfulness when her other classmates spoke out of turn or created drama within the classroom. But, she also knew when to tone it down enough so that her classmates wouldn’t hate her, so that she would be generally liked and admired, which wasn’t hard because of her warm eyes and amazing voice. She became a mini-celebrity in high school and college because of her singing capabilities, displayed through talent shows and a cappella performances. To her, pleasing others was her way out of confrontation or disappointment – the world was too full of both. So, with a smile plastered on and her heart a little lighter because of her amiable nature, she had lived her life fairly simply.

The one time when she defied the will of someone else was when she decided to drop out of her pre-pharmacy track and pursue her music whole-heartedly. It was an exhilarating feeling, speaking up for herself for the first time in her life. She had no idea how wonderful it would feel, to be able to run after something, knowing she would have no regrets because it was what she wanted. She had regretted some of the decisions she had made because of her eagerness to be obedient, but this time, she knew she was in the right.

Until the man upstairs told her otherwise.

She had a lot to leave behind: her frustrated manager, her two atheist band members who though she had gone insane from the stress, her database of Myspace fans who became confused that she switched genres, her rocker boyfriend who thought he was going to live vicariously through her success, her lifelong dream and her pride. How could this decision be right if it let so many people – including herself – down?

But eight years passed while she pondered that question for five minutes.

Everyday, before she walked out with her lab coat and keys, she stopped to look in the mirror to ask herself if this was the life she wanted to live.

And everyday, she found herself saying, “Maybe.”

Saturday rolled around, and she was in an interestingly pleasant mood. She put on a yellow sundress, packed her guitar in her car, and headed out.
The pastor’s house was a quaint white house, with stubby hedges and shrubs surrounding it. A huge tree sat on the far right of their yard, and a tire swing hung from one of the massive branches.
She stood for a moment, soaking up the ambience, then went to join the group that had formed itself into a circle.
“Beautiful weather today,” she greeted.
The pastor’s wife, a beautifully aged woman sitting in a summery ensemble and her head covered with an elegant straw hat, beckoned her to sit closer.
“You look beautiful today,” the wife said, handing her a cup of watermelon punch. “How have you been?”
“I’ve been doing well,” she said. “Managing.”
“How is work going?” She adjusted her hat and smoothed out her skirt.
“It’s going,” she laughed. “Just working on some research.”
The wife raised an eyebrow. “Trying to save the world on your own?”
She smiled. “Of course not. Only by God’s will, right?” The words tasted foreign in her mouth, no matter how many times she said it in the past few years.
“There hasn’t been a truer statement said,” the wife said approvingly. She picked up a mini chicken salad sandwich and made a pensive face for a second. She looked at her briefly before saying, “I hope you believe it too.”
She fiddled with the paper cup and mustered up a brighter smile. “I do.”
The wife clucked her tongue at her. “There was some hesitation there,” she teased. “Anything you want to tell me?”
“Nothing new,” she replied, grabbing a plateful of macaroni and cheese.
“All right, I’ll take your word for it,” the wife said. She glanced at her husband, who seemed to be on the verge of saying something. “I think it’ll soon be time for you to lead us in worship.” She patted her hand and turned to a lady to her left who had praised her garden.

As she strummed and began singing a hymn everyone knew the words to and loved, she replayed the conversation in her head, however small talk-like it was.
She looked around at the people smiling and following along in song and she couldn’t help but wonder: did they believe in His will? Did they believe that their lives were all part of some giant plan that they had no control over?

Maybe, she thought.

© 2009. Sarah R.