From hanging out with lots of pastors, worship leaders, and stage actors, I’ve been blessed to have lots of friends who are performers…
Yes, performers: each one of those groups are quite skilled performers.
I know that may make some people bristle, because they consider performing to imply something is fake. But every person who sets foot on any stage (or “platform” as we call it at church) is a performer. Quite simply, they have to be.
Do you really think that guy on the Gaither video is really that excited to sing “Midnight Cry” for the thirty three thousands time of his career? No, he is sick to death of that song. BUT he strongly believes in the message he is singing, so he performs it with passion.
Do you believe your pastor doesn’t need to perform? What if someone says something hateful to him right before he goes up to the pulpit? If you don’t think that happens occasionally, you’ve never been to church. So does he get to stand up and weep in front of the congregation just because someone hurt his feelings and that would be honest and sincere?
No, he’s not going to do that. He’s going to pretend he doesn’t feel those things right now. He’s going to stuff his anger way down in the pit of his stomach, and he’s going to preach like he’s the happiest man on earth. In other words, he’s going to “perform” Why? Because to do anything less would be selfish.
Let’s go one step further…most of the people you see in public are performers as well. Few people, if any, always show others their “authentic selves”.
Most of what we see from other folks at the grocery store, and even friends at church, is a facsimile of the person they really are underneath. Sometimes we “put on a mask”, but we’re often doing it for the benefit of others. We’re having a bad day, but don’t feel it’s fair to subject others to our depression. Or maybe we’re angry about something at work, but know the folks we’re talking to now can’t really do anything to fix it. So we put on a happy face out of consideration for others.
People don’t become performers in daily life because they are fake necessarily. Most often it’s because they’ve lived more than a couple of minutes and know they’d be wise to protect themselves from others.
Ever had to block people from your Facebook page? I sure have, more than once. As importance as transparency is to me, some people have proven they cannot be trusted with glimpses into my feelings and family life, no matter how curated they are.
During the Covid lockdown, my kids had a sleepover with some friends at our house. The next day I joked on Facebook that my kids were “lucky to be alive” after keeping me up all the night before. It was obviously a joke, said from one parent to another. But since I’m white and my kids are mixed-race, a Facebook “friend” called my statement insensitive to my kid’s race and determined I was a racist! Then they copied a picture of my kids and posted it all over social media, saying how I was the real problem these days. Total strangers on Instagram were asking for my street address, and warning others about me. It was a nightmare.
So you learn to guard yourself from some people, especially the ones who misinterpret you on purpose, and who are hoping to find something wrong in you. If you don’t block them, you are just asking for trouble.
As I’ve done more and more theatre through the years, some religious folks have questioned the sincerity of my worship leading. They say things like, “Yeah, he’s quite the performer, isn’t he?” or “Boy, he loves the spotlight!” Those are the ones who point out when a song I use in worship is one I wrote and make note when I write myself a part in a show.
The implication is that if you perform, you must be a narcissist. And if you are so good at pretending to be someone else in a play, maybe what you do in worship is just pretend as well.
Because of those attitudes, for years I never gave myself a part in the shows I wrote. I rarely sang the solos for my own songs for fear of being labeled a “ham” or a “showboat”. The end result was I took gifts for singing and acting the Lord had planted in me and hid them about of fear. I learned quickly that if you “perform” really well, people use that against you the same way my innocent joke about my kids was used.
But I’ve learned a few things over the years. First, I learned that if God gives you a gift and you don’t use it, that actually is a sin. And letting petty people keep you from using those gifts was actually worshipping your own image in the eyes of others. Talented people are envied and resented as much as they are ever loved. The hate is just part of what comes with your gift. I learned to quote the following verse by heart:
Fear of man will prove to be a snare, but whoever trusts in the Lord is kept safe. – Proverbs 29:25
I also realized as I’ve watched preachers who I’ve admired that every single one of them is a fine performer – and that is not an insult! Most of the best preachers learned over the years how to put that cadence in their voice that telegraphs they are now “preaching”. That is rarely the way those pastors speak in normal conversation. Just try and use that tone with your wife at home and see what happens to you! Most preachers spend the week preparing their sermons, even practicing how to recite their Scripture passages…the exact same way an actor rehearses his script.
When I was a senior pastor, I didn’t use a different voice from my regular speaking voice when preaching. I’m a performer at heart, so Preaching Dave was pretty much like Regular Dave. But I found some of my church members were put off because they were used to the sing-songy cadence a southern preacher often uses. So my sermons didn’t sound like the “comfort food” they were used to. If you grew up in an African-American church, the style was different but just as pronounced. I’ve found the best preachers are in fact men who’ve learned to “perform” in a manner that best communicates their sermon to their particular congregation (or audience).
The reason we have trouble calling a preacher a performer is that this implies their performance is insincere. But that’s not the case at all. When I sing a song on Sunday morning, chances are I’ve rehearsed it so much I’m actually probably a bit tired of the song. But I still need to sing it with conviction. So as I sing, I remind myself of the One I’m singing about, even if I’m sick of the song itself. Which is exactly how you sing a song in a stage musical – you associate it with something you feel strongly about. It is a performance both times, but the one at church is a performance you truly believe in and is a part of you.
One final thing I’ve learned is that often the folks pointing fingers about “performance” are quite the performers themselves. Their ability to “act holy” often rivaled anything I’ve ever seen on a stage. They know how to camouflage their motives so the envy never shows. I guess I have to applaud them – a true performer appreciates great work when they see it! And you have never seen more experienced performers than religious pharisees.
When you see someone’s singing or preaching at church, don’t worry about whether they are sincere or not. That’s the Lord’s job, not yours. He will deal with them, just as He deals with each of the performances we all give, each and every day and everywhere we go. Remember, “all the world’s a stage”. Just make sure the performance you’re giving is one you truly believe in and that give’s God glory!
