The lights glared warmly as they had done many times before in my memory, heating the room as effectively as a furnace, and lighting up the many glistening foreheads which suffered in their heat. Black predominated—around me I could see nothing else. There was black behind me, black to the sides, black in that gaping expanse in front of me, and black in those eyes which were before me and which seemed to gaze only at me. Yes, it was all black, save for those blinding, insufferable lights. I wondered how such blackness could coincide with such light.
I had been here before so many times I couldn’t even begin
to count them. There was nothing in those faces which now stared back at me
that I had not seen before. They should have
been familiar, comforting, and even exciting, it being the last choir tour
performance of my senior year. Indeed, as I looked to my right and left I saw
what should have been in my own face. My friends and comrades stood on all
sides of me, their faces beaming at the applause, and their minds focused on
the music which they held confidently in front of them. These expressions of
excitement were mingled with a united visage of concentration as our likewise
beaming leader raised his baton and signaled the silence of the room.
How can I remember what we sang? My thoughts had turned
inward and I was made aware of an internal battle which was not reflected in
the beauty of the piece that we sang. A feeling in my chest had blossomed,
although it was not entirely unfamiliar. I had stood many times in front of a
crowd of people with this sensation sweeping through my thoughts. It was the fear
of entrapment in a place where escape would be humiliating, and it often
expressed itself through feelings of nausea which always exacerbated my fear. However,
I had mastered this fear, and I had thought I knew the fear by name. I thought
I could put her in her place as I had done many times before. Relaxing, I began
to sway back in forth to the music knowing that if only I could express with my
body that all was well, my mind would believe it as it had done before. Fear
didn’t stop there, however. For the first time, the Fear overstepped her
boundary of the mind and crept into the rest of my body. At first it was only a
slight weakness of the knee and a tremble of the finger. But soon, as I swayed
hopefully back and forth and put on a smile which I hoped shone with
authenticity, I found my legs trembling as they never had before in my life. By
the third song my whole body quaked, and by the sixth I knew that I must sit or
I would collapse in humiliation upon the riser.
Spying a chair which sat empty on the stage slightly to my
left, I lightly dropped my shaking limbs off the riser and into the chair,
trying my best to do so without attracting attention. I could see a few
concerned faces in the small section of audience which was visible to me, so I
opened up my folder, smiled, and swayed along with the music. I wanted the
audience members to assume that this was all a part of the plan and that it
wasn’t a weakness of mind which had brought me off of the risers.
My resolution to be a part of my choir brought me back off
of my chair after only one song. I regretted the action the instant I retook my
place. The shaking had not abated as I had hoped, but had ripened and settled
deep into my bones. It was all I could do to keep a smile on my face as I
looked towards the sea of black in front of me which had become, in the space
of an hour, my own personal hell. Never had the minutes dragged so much as they
did then. The notes in front of me seemed to lift off of the page only to sludge
in slow motion through the air in front of my eyes. Our conductor’s baton
seemed also to slow, and it followed a belabored path through the air like it
was being pulled through taffy.
When the music finally quieted, and the organized order of
notes was replaced with the chaotic applause of the black-clad audience, I felt
the last vestiges of strength leave my body. As I pulled myself with effort onto the bus, such laughter and joy
and youth surrounded me as to make my defeated mind feel three times its age.
Their words mocked me. It was the best we had ever sung! The best venue! The
best audience! The most fun! The most honoring to the Lord! Where, I wondered,
was the worship in trembling, or the glory to the Lord in not being able to stand before him?
On this night, I shook hands with fear twice. Once, as I stepped
unknowingly upon that stage and met her as I never had before—a powerful
physical force which could take an idea and make it rage through my body. And
twice as I stepped off the stage and into a world which, for the next several
months, would be filled with stages identical to this one with Fear’s constant
presence waiting to escort me there each time. On this night, I met fear
regenerated. Terror was her name, and she was stronger than I was.
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