This weekend was nothing short of exhausting.And by this weekend I really mean Wednesday through Sunday, which is about half of the week. Wednesday, Thursday, and Friday, I went straight from work to the church for a rehearsal or performance. Saturday, after getting up early and waiting in line for an hour to get my emissions inspection done, I spent nine hours at the church for two shows. Sunday, after church, I passed out for a couple of hours before going to yet another show.
Needless to say, I had no desire whatsoever to get up today when my alarm went off at 5:30am.
That being said, this weekend gave me cause to do a lot of thinking.
Between the final dress rehearsal and the five shows this weekend, I performed the anointing scene six times in five days. As I've previously written, this scene--this part--terrified me in many ways. The whole part was emotionally exhausting and scary and I dreaded intermission at every show because it meant that I had to do the scene again, very shortly.
But I had a realization this weekend that really doesn't make doing the scene any easier, but in some ways, it does.
I felt inadequate. I felt unprepared. I felt like anybody should be up on the stage performing this role except me. And yet...it was me. Only me. No one else.
I can't even tell you how many times over the last six days someone has told me, "You made me cry." Or that someone told me that someone else told them, "That scene made me cry." It happened. A lot. And I didn't know what to say. I didn't know what to do. The tears were good, I suppose, but it was strange. It was weird.
Each time, before I would perform the scene, I would sit in Jesus' dressing room, just a few feet from where I entered. I would sit there with my bottle of spikenard and pray. Just pray and pray and pray. Even though I never actually cried during a performance, I cried almost every night before I went on stage. Twice, we had to touch up my makeup because I had tear streaks.
Why me? I thought a hundred times. I didn't understand why it had to be me. Why did I have to play this part?
Then I stopped and I asked myself why was this part so difficult? I'd played tons of other parts before in my lifetime. I'd even played this same part six years ago. Why did I feel this extreme anxiety surrounding this part now? Why did I sit backstage, listening to the Samaritan Woman singing her song, wishing I had that part instead of this one, because in my head that part was so much easier?
And then I realized something -- everyone else in the show had their visible flaws. Crispus wasn't a believer. Nicodemus doubted the plausibility for a man to be born again. The Samaritan Woman had a broken, scarred past. Martha questioned Jesus' judgment in letting her brother die. Judas betrayed Jesus for 30 pieces of silver. Peter let his emotions overtake him and cut off a man's ear in the process and later denied Christ three times. Everyone else had visible flaws...except Mary.
Mary shows up three times in the Bible and two out of those three times, when she does something that is out of the norm, that instigates a reprimand from someone else in the room, Jesus defends her. Jesus tells Martha that Mary has chosen what is better. Jesus tells Judas to leave her alone.
In my head, I knew Mary wasn't perfect because she was human...but she somehow still seemed to be. And that made me really uncomfortable. Because I know that I am not perfect.
I felt broken. I felt inadequate and unprepared and all I could do was ask why?
Then, in His usual sweet way, my Savior whispered to my heart.
Who says you have to be whole to be used by Me?
And finally it all made sense.
I had this ridiculous notion that I had to be whole, I had to be perfect, I had to be righteous, I had to be fill-in-the-blank with whatever positive attribute in order to play this part properly and to be fully used by God in this role. And that is so dumb.
Almost every single major character in Scripture had their flaws. Noah, Moses, David, you name it...they all had flaws. And some of them majorly screwed up. And God still used them in absolutely amazing and awe-inspiring ways.
And once I realized that...that God was able to use me even in my most broken moments, even if I didn't feel whole or adequate or prepared, that wasn't going to stop God from using me to accomplish His will through this scene, this role, this play. Once I finally grasped that, this role became a whole lot less terrifying and I was a whole lot less anxious.
So my question for you today is where do you feel broken? Where do you feel inadequate or unprepared to be used by God? Because He can use those broken places and turn them into something of unmatchable beauty, if only you let Him.
