Don't Want To Be Famous....anymore.

As I sat in my living room, only the sound of air conditioning buzzing through the walls and a comfy pillow to lean on, I sat down with my guitar and began to hum a random noise from the back of my throat.

...I could sense a song ensuing.

Over the past 6 years, a lot of people have asked me where the ability to write music comes from. I can answer with complete honesty that its just a gift from God. Plain and simple. I usually respond to that question with, "Its God--I just happen to be in the room."

I don't say this in an ambiguous, super-religious way as others may. I say this with total awareness that my talents are not my own. They belong to Jesus. They don't belong to me to market, exploit, or receive self-seeking praise from people. They are a gift, of which I am humbled to have been given.

And talent is not a mystery. Its simply evidence of a creative God, who likes to express himself through his very own creation, by continuing the cycle of creativity. Talents are really simple if you let them be.

I can attest to many years not fully understanding the beauty of being given the talent of music---of worship. I've always been able to sing. My earliest memories are sitting at the foot of a platform, watching my family sing and play music in God's house. My family is full of musicians, artists, and creators. I remember my Dad putting me on his lap and showing me the different instruments that they played on a worship team. He would humor me by letting me sit in during practice and "play" the instruments along with them. Sometimes I'd sit on the floor next to the drummer with a couple of pencils as my drumsticks and bang on my lap as my drum set. Other times I'd stand near the bassist and copy his rhythmic head-bobbing and "stank face" expression. I remember sitting next to my dad at the piano and watch him lead everyone in worship and stare at his fingers in complete wonder. The way they moved magically across every key, creating the most wonderful sounds....mesmerizing.

You see, my dad never knew how to read music, but he could write songs that were so beautiful. And he could sing to the Lord with such amazing passion--it was unlike anything I had ever seen. My grandmother often reminisces with me about my earliest years. When asked the question, "What do you want to be when you grow up?" my answer was always " I want to sing in God's house." I remember many times, all under the age of 7 years old, being encouraged by my dad to sing for the church. He would have me pick out a song and I'd sing in service. He always encouraged the gift. Always nurtured, always praised. Its because of my father that I had a passion for music and for worship.

During my teen years, the need for guidance and attention, mixed with the need for approval of every kind by everyone, quickly made way for my passion of worship to slowly become a passion for applause. I joined the school choir and eventually the theater company through a random audition that I had heard about in class one day. That one audition soon opened a door to a whole other world:

The stage.

Oh, that stage knew how to sing just sweetly enough to seduce me into the throws of passionate, life-breathing theatre. And yes. When you are a big-headed, American goon you spell 'theater' with British snobbery and change the 'er' to 're'. THE-A-TRE. (I imagine you pronouncing this to yourself in a Shakespearean accent and a dainty hand gesture.)

Now, don't misunderstand. The recognition, self-gratification, and adoring 9th grader fans weren't the only reason why I loved performing. The fancy makeup, costumes, and the pretending to be anyone but myself was also a huge plus. For two hours, I got to live in a make-believe world, where I could think, talk, and act like someone else. And I got to walk away at the end of the night being doted on by various audience members for my "breathtaking" and "leave em in tears" performances. There was also something strangely fulfilling about auditioning and getting a role that everyone wanted and getting the big stamp of approval that came with it saying, "YES, Jordan! They like you! They really like you!"

Maybe what compelled me was the desperate need to know that I had what it took? Or maybe the need to prove that I had what it took? Maybe a little bit of both. All I know is that the adrenaline rush faded rather quickly once my senior year in high school came around. I practically had my bags packed, ready to move to New York and follow my life-long dream of Broadway and the bright lights, when the afterglow of the stage somehow disappeared and I was left realizing that the audience only liked who I pretended to be--not who I really was.

To the insecure and unwise, fame seemed to be a one-way ticket to happiness for many of the kids I performed with. Sadly, it still is for some of them. But before I graduated high school, I had a first hand glimpse of what seeking fame and the spotlight would bring you by watching other friends "make it" in the entertainment business. I have concluded these are one of three things:

Lots of insecurity. Lots of instability. Lots of alcohol.

I remember one day, I was sitting in the costume room in the theater department, rummaging for an outfit for a pending performance, when I was hit with immense sadness. I didn't want to put on a dress and pretend to be anyone else anymore. I wanted to be me. I didn't want to sing for applause. I didn't want to be a performing monkey. I didn't care that I was the president of the Thespian troupe at school and I definitely didn't care who cared that I didn't care. I just didn't care! It was all meaningless entertainment. It was all so...empty?

So I sat there, staring at the costumes and began to ask myself,

"Is this it? Is this all there is?

If it is, then why do I feel so empty?

Why doesn't this make me happy anymore??

What is my purpose in life?!?!?!

What am I going to do?!!?!?!?!??!!?!?!!"



All of a sudden a huge wave of revelation hit me, and, in an instant, shattered my world of plastic emotions. As the tears fell, I began to think, for the first time, that all these years of striving and trying to prove myself were all for a waste. Every audition, every day long rehearsal, every time I let my grades purposely slip because I "wouldn't need college, anyway" were all for nothing. But before even an ounce of mourning set it and before I could even look up into the sky and scream in misdirected blame, I heard a voice speak clearly and tenderly to my heart:

"You were created to worship."

Wow. I remember my reaction not being surprised or taken back by this. I calmly closed my eyes, took a deep breath, and smiled in childlike remembrance saying to myself,

"Yes. Yes I was."

From that day forward, my entire life changed. I graduated feeling a little directionless, but nonetheless content with my decision to pursue God again and not my own created version of success. I just kept trusting that wherever I was supposed to go in this big world and whatever I was supposed to do with my life, it would all be directed by God's leading. I just needed to trust.

So flash forward a year or so and I was doing music again, just this time in a local church. It was almost like re-learning a language, I have to admit. I had become so accustom to performing that to be handed a microphone, put on a platform, and told to sing for people was a real learning experience. Everything around me looked familiar but was the exact opposite of all that I had grown accustom to. However, through trial and error, I immediately re-learned that music God's way is entirely different than the world's, and there is no way of intermixing them both. You either sing for His glory, or you sing for your own.

One thing is for sure: there is no room for performance, especially when it comes to worship. In fact, playing music and worshiping God can't even be put in the same category. They are completely separate and have nothing in common. Playing music can evoke emotion and passion, but the heat of the Holy Spirit lighting your heart on fire is something completely different. Sure, playing music can evoke happiness and joy, but the joy that comes from the Lord brings wholeness and is lasting. Playing music can give goosebumps and bring someone to tears, but worship is what will cleanse their soul of contaminating thoughts, emotions, and torment. Worshiping God is what lifts you up from your dark place.

Worship isn't a pretty melody that leaves you with shackles still on your feet.

I guess what I'm trying to say is that through the last 5 years, God has been drawing me deeper and deeper into what I was created for, which is worship. I believe we were all created to worship. But those who were marked and detailed with the talent of music were meant to lead others, and not just with their songs, but with their lives.

So I guess, from starting out as that elementary kid who would stare at the contorted faces of worship leaders and think they were constipated because of their intense and focused expressions, to now being a semi-adult and having elementary kids looking at me that way, it is wild to look back and see how far I've come.

And it is all because of His wonderful, undeserved, and immaculate grace.