allow me to captivate you

there is something about being on stage in the midst of all my butterflies, shaky hands, and quavering vocals that I love. maybe not so much the nervousness, but what accompanies it. something about knowing that all those times of pretending the edge of my bed was a stage and my voice ringing out soundly within those secure four walls--however good it has sounded to me in those moments cannot compare to the realness of being in front of people and choosing to spill out your lyrics over a microphone. it is a beautiful quiet that greets me once I step up to the mic, a quiet that I know I have to fill with words of meaning. it is not enough to play a pretty melody--but rather, the power of speaking to those that are actually listening is a provoking thought is far more precious. I always see the nervousness as something that hinders, hinders me from passing the song into their hands the way that it should be, as perfect as I feel it should sound. but I'm beginning to think that I prefer the nervousness that comes with it--in any case it makes me more real. when I finish the performance, it is not with a flourish, a grand finale, usually it is with relief that my time being critiqued is over with. what grips me about the experience is the joy that lingers in my mind at being able to share these words, of not holding back simply because of my fears, and hoping that the words will go on to trigger more ideas, more appreciation for music, more desires to give the world something through words to hope for. more than debating, more than discussing, I see music as a testimony, a vulnerable one at that, of all that God has built in me and all that He has yet to do. I pray for the opportunity to realize this over and over again. in allowing me to captivate you with my songs, I pray God will captivate you with the heart behind it, this heart of mine that is in love with Him.