The Day I Broke

Over the last month or so I've been diving back into the world of recording. Only a few people know that I've done some recording in the past, and even fewer knew about this go around. It has been fun and challenging. I have a better computer now, and learned a few tricks with the equipment I was using that made things go a lot smoother. To top it off, I started recording a few videos as well and pairing them with the audio. I even set up a little channel on YouTube as a place to put my projects (with no intention of "building a channel" or going viral).
Throughout this process a lot of things have gone well, and I've learned and grown and all that jazz. However, there has been one little hiccough, one wrench in the machine that has bothered me from the beginning...my voice.
I don't mean to say that I don't like hearing my voice (I don't, but that's not the point). Most people don't like hearing their own voice, and that's perfectly natural. This is a much more musical issue. Right from the start I could tell that I was not hitting things right. Oh sure, most of it sounds okay; maybe even quite nice (a matter of opinion really), but far too often I just wouldn't hit notes right, or I wouldn't be able to hold a note in the right place. It was pitchy. Again, not all the time, but moments. I'm sure a lot of people wouldn't even notice. They might think, "he's good. Not great, but good." Though they wouldn't know why. Those of us with the ear for it would know exactly why.
Toward the beginning of all this recording I just figured, 'maybe I'm out of practice and just need to give it time and effort.' After one month filled with nothing but time to practice (thank you covid-19) it's not getting any better, and the question becomes, 'have I damaged my voice so as to lose that level of control, or did I ever even have it?'
Let's be clear. I have never had any intention of going pro, and I was not designed for the solo gig. I've always preferred making music with others, and especially singing the harmonies. So this discovery should not be an earth-shattering issue on any practical level.
But today I broke.
Yesterday I released another video that was the usual level of 'meh', and some guy with his own music channel gave me a really positive comment. I checked out his channel (because that's the only reason he liked my video) and, while I probably wouldn't care for his music, his vocal control was really good. Fast forward to this afternoon. As I was practicing the songs for church this Sunday, I come up to a note that takes some careful placement for me to hit it right...and I biffed it.
It's not the first time I've hit a note wrong (and it won't be the last). But right in that moment I thought, 'I don't want to do this any more.'
I put my guitar down, and I just sat in that thought for a minute. That one thought was wrapped up in so many others, 'you have to do it. You have a responsibility to fulfill. People are counting on you, and they don't seem to care that you don't have it all together vocally.'
'I don't want to do this any more.'
This was a big moment for me. I'm the can-do-kid (for lack of a better term). When I say I'm going to do something, I do it as best I can, and I don't give up until the job is done. But right then I just wanted to be done. Not because it was hard or painful or boring or scary or for any of the other reasons I have not liked doing something yet still pushed through. I'm not sure how to describe the reason other than to say that it was perhaps a very deep sense of inadequacy. When I do things, I want to do them well, and suddenly I couldn't. And it wasn't just some skill I could no longer manage. It was my voice, the most personal, deep, intimate instrument of them all. I've always considered my voice to be the one instrument that I truly knew how to use at the drop of a hat. But it turned out my voice was just 'okay' like the rest of the instruments I've dabbled in.
Today I broke.
As I sat there wanting so much to just walk away--specifically from leading music on Sundays--my heavenly Father had some words for me.
Oddly enough it wasn't words of comfort, consolation, or understanding. It was actually more of a "buck up and walk it off"kind of talk. He reminded me of the very thing I have wanted to tell so many people before. God doesn't want us to sing to Him because our voices are so perfect. He wants each of us--He wants you to sing to Him because your voice is yours. It is the voice He gave you and no one else has it. It is the most personal, deep, and intimate instrument you own and He wants you to offer it up to Him.
I had always wanted to shake up the church to get them to understand this idea. It's not about what your voice sounds like. It's the fact that it is yours and He wants to hear it from you. But here I was, suddenly feeling some serious insecurities about my own voice, and now I wanted to throw in the towel.
Then He began to comfort me. He reminded me that He didn't need a flawless performance. He just wanted a wholehearted offering.
I picked up my guitar and returned to the music I had been working on and was struck anew by the message of the song:

"My life is in You, Lord.
My strength is in You, Lord.
My hope is in You, Lord.
I will praise You with all of my life.
I will praise You with all of my strength.
All of my life, all of my strength, all of my hope is in You." ~Daniel Gardner

All of my life. Even the parts that I don't like or that I feel are inadequate. All of it is praise to God. Not because the gift is worthy, but because it is all I have, and it is all He wants. Not a flawless performance, but a wholehearted offering.