Saturday, May 11, 2019

Confessions of a Recovering Professional Musician Part 1


Last night I had the opportunity to record some flute and piano tracks with a friend.  It’s the first time I’ve gone into a studio for the sole purpose of creating a solo project.  I’ve had studio experience over the years, but in college it was mostly for competition audition CDs or university-related projects, and once I graduated, it was for others’ album projects.  I always wanted to record myself, but I never felt good enough.  In spite of winning positions in two professional symphonies, headlining professional recitals, and teaching at four different colleges…..I never felt good enough.  At my core, I still wrestled with self-doubt.

Then, at the age of 32, I entered the vocational worship world.  I had been leading worship for almost a decade by this point, but always as a volunteer.  At 32, I was hired to serve on staff at a church as one of the primary worship leaders.  During this time, I thought about recording myself, but I still struggled with crippling self-doubt internally.  I always felt my style of singing was not modern enough for contemporary worship.  I wrote songs that my congregation sang, but I did not feel they were necessarily good enough to record.  (Although I did do a little recording of lullabies and a few of those worship tunes in a friend’s basement during that season.)  I literally told myself during this time, “Who would want to hear my voice in their car?”

A few years ago, the Lord began to reveal to me how I’ve been the one holding myself back.  It was this sense that He was waiting for me to finally go and do it - to begin recording myself as a singer and musician.  So, I made myself begin to Facebook Live here and there, when I felt moved by the Holy Spirit to do so.  And even when I made mistakes, felt like I was hacking up a lung, or ended up with a terrible camera angle (Hello, double chin! Yikes!), I kept the videos up because I knew they were meant to help others engage with the Lord in worship.

So, last night, at the age of 45, I finally entered the studio to record myself doing what I love: worshipping the Lord with the flute.  I was slammed with anxiety earlier in the day and still felt a little nervous as I arrived at the studio, but in the end, we had a good time doing it.

Over the years, I have learned a few tidbits as a ‘recovering' professional musician that I wanted to share:
  1. Talent is a gift….and not just for others.  God gave me musical ability because He knew I would enjoy using it.  And He enjoys hearing and watching me use my gift.  I remember Eric Liddell’s (Chariots of Fire runner) comment, “God made me fast.  And when I run, I feel God’s pleasure.”  In the same way, I love watching my daughter make popover pancakes in the morning or play basketball on her school’s team.  I love her just because she is my daughter.  Thus, I love cheering on everything she does.  Sometimes I have to remind myself that God enjoys me all of the time, even during moments when I’m not engaged in [music] worship or leading someone to the Lord.  He loves me and He loves being with me.  And when I perform in a symphony or ride my bike on a trial, He is mesmerized just because it’s me and I’m His daughter.  How freeing is that?!
  1. I am allowed to make mistakes.  Seems simple. right?  But for a professional musician, making a mistake during a symphony audition could mean the difference between getting admitted into the next round of auditions or not.  This kind of hypercritical perspective, though helpful for entering the professional symphonic world, can wreak havoc upon one's soul.  Please note - [I am not criticizing the pursuit of excellence. I am instead harpooning toxic perfectionism that poisons a soul with the fear of never measuring up.]  I think the fear of not being good enough kept me from sharing my gift through a digital format with the world, as if there was this imaginary panel of perfection judges who would mock and criticize my work if it didn’t meet their impossible criteria.  However, I realized that that panel only existed in my own head.  So, I am learning to give myself permission to share my imperfect gifts with the world.
  1. By choosing not to share my gift, I am hindering how the Lord wants to use me.  He gave me gifts with purpose, and part of how I walk in the fullness of all He has for me to do while I walk this planet is by submitting my gifts to His Lordship and allowing Him to use me however He sees fit.  If He wants to use me in public ways - awesome.  And if He wants me to solely, privately pour my talents out on his head and feet in worship - awesome.  The key is my ‘Yes' to trusting He is a good Father and has only my best interests at heart.  
That’s all I’ll share for now.  Anyway, stay tuned (pun intended) for the release of some upcoming projects.  If you were looking for permission to run with what God has put in your heart to do - please know I’m rooting for you!  It’s time to fly - or in my case - it’s time to play/sing!


(Watercolor by Janet Bishop.  Flutist is Tami Flick, i.e. me!)


Tuesday, May 7, 2019

A Splinter, a Pruning Saw, and a Loving Gardener


So, today the Lord exposed a splinter I had lodged in my soul.  I kind of knew the splinter was still there, but I had learned to avoid ever touching that area and only winced when others accidentally touched it.  And then today, in God’s lovingkindess, He blew His breath of life once again into my inmost being and I felt the little splinter….and I finally saw it from His perspective.  

It’s amazing how a little splinter can cloud my vision and harden my heart.  It not only hardened my heart towards a particular individual, it hardened my heart towards God.  And truly, I never understood that until His Spirit revealed it.  

What was my splinter?  Resentment.  How did Jesus prune me?  By convicting my heart of sin.  What was my response?  Confession and repentance….and not just to God, though I began there; I was compelled to confess and repent to the person whom I had come to resent.   

And what did God do?  He forgave me and healed me.

And what did the other person do?  They forgave me and spoke words of life to my soul.

During worship tonight, I had this inner vision of the Lord as the master gardener, tending the garden of my soul.  I saw him pruning a large section of this one bush.  I saw that some sort of parasite or fungus had diseased a large branch, almost down to the root.  This section was completely dead, no leaves, just bare branches.   Jesus came with a small hand saw and with surgeon-like precision, carefully cut off that large section.  His work was thorough, and nothing was left that was dead.  His pruning left a strange and a bit unsightly open area on the side of the bush.  It did not look very attractive to my eyes.  Then, I saw him kneel down and carefully plant seeds all around the bush.  I knew he was planting flowers that would eventually surround this particular bush.  His goal was not to camouflage what pruning he had done, but to create beauty out of ashes….almost to draw attention to how healthy the rest of the bush looked, even with its odd, new shape.  In my vision, I saw Jesus smile, very pleased with his work.

How do I feel now?  Free.  And honestly, I did not know I wasn’t free in that area before.  I knew there was still an issue, but I did not know that “issue” was actually sin that I needed to confess and repent.  But now that I’ve experienced the amazing love of God so perfectly and specifically demonstrated in this gently pruning, I feel such peace and thankfulness.  Well, and I do feel a bit humbled and exposed, for sure…..but the good kind of exposure…like when an unexpected, but refreshing breeze hits the nape of my neck.

I am the true vine and my Father is the gardener.  He cuts off every branch in me that bears no fruit, while every branch that does bear fruit, he prunes so that it will be be even more fruitful.

John 15:1 - 2

Faith Comes by Hearing

  In May of 2020, I remember standing in my dining room, fielding calls from various Christian leaders in our city.   That evening, we were ...