I am a performer.
My stage is not in Hollywood, California or in an off-Broadway theatre on the streets of New York. Rather, it was in my classrooms growing up. But I wasn't the class clown. I was the hard-worker. I sat in the front row, listened attentively, and turned beet red if I ever got in trouble. One day in sixth grade, I almost got detention for chewing gum.
I thought my world had ended. What would my parents say of my actions?
I am a director.
My stage doesn't have bright lights or movie cameras. There isn't a star sign on my dressing room door. No, my stage now is in my own house and I find myself using a director's voice more than a doting mother's tone most of the time.
I am a performer and a director. I expect things to move like clock-work, for people to say their lines, to be where they are supposed to be. "Do not diverge from the script!" I might say. Going off the beaten path, striking out on your own, unconformity, no that is not me.
I perform so that you will like me. I perform so you will think I am good. I perform so that I can get your accolades. I may not come off as a diva, but it's all a selfish facade, just the same.
I direct because I want it my way. Don't change the plan. I don't like to feel uncomfortable. I don't like not knowing what comes next.
One day, I thought I must have been looking in the mirror, except for the fact that there was no shiny surface. But I was still seeing myself. In my daughters.
You see, one has become a performer (but with more dramatic flair) and one has become a director. And they both want their way, just like their mother.
It's too bad my way and there ways are not the same way.
But there is hope. It involves some role changes and a different script. But my girls are not the only ones that have to drop the diva act.
I do, too.
And I have to give up my seat in the director's chair, letting Jesus move in, with His Word as the megaphone that resonates in our hearts.
With Him running the show, there seems to be a lot less demands for perfection. There is more grace for the impromptu changes that are simply a part of life. Forgiveness flows more freely and judgment cast aside.
The unscripted life allows for our true character to emerge and Jesus molds our heart to His way. We end up shining more brightly than the likes of me could ever plan and arrange.
Somewhere along the way, He changes our selfish ways to selfless ways, where compassion flows and people take notice.
It's not a performance, but it still feels like a dance.
Conversation starter: Can you resonate with the title of "performer" and/or "director?" How so? How do you work to allow Jesus to work in your family life to keep Him as the One ultimately in charge?