Today I smashed the hang out of my fingers. I creamed ’em like a fool when I tried to lower a garage door by sticking my fingers into the handy little crack between the panels. So when the door came down, the crack closed, and I was left with the three middle fingers of each hand stuck in the door while I yelled, danced and pleaded for someone to help. Now my digits are traumatized with bruised and bleeding fingernails on each hand, and I’m typing this entry very gently, favoring certain fingers like a dog with a wounded leg.
The bummer is, tomorrow night I have a special Christmas performance. So I’ve enlisted some prayer warriors, and I’m believing for God to heal me up enough to go through with it. It’s really amazing how often things like this happen to me before a concert. It makes me feel like there’s some kind of spiritual assignment against me playing in public.
I was thinking about this today, wondering why people connect with my music in the first place. It’s definitely not my technique. You can find people all over the county who effortlessly play circles around me, executing flawless passages and dazzling arpeggios. The only thing I can figure out is, maybe it’s my passion. I have a tendency of losing myself in the music and forgetting about the world around me. And people seem to like that. We love passion because we’re created in the image of a passionate God. Yet our lives can be so incredibly mundane. So when an audience hears someone get lost in some foggy Neverland, and then emerge on the other end beating the keyboard black and blue, they respond.
Sometimes I get choked up, or even cry right in the middle of a piece. Other times I’ve played hard enough to leave a trail of blood on the keyboard. (And sometimes I make loud, bombastic mistakes that cause the audience to squirm and twist in their seats). Of course this can be embarrassing, but if I live in fear of tenderness, or even of large, monstrous mistakes, everything will come across sounding tentative and tame. And neither life nor music was meant to be played that way.