There was a time when practicing the piano was a part of my daily life.
Actually that “time” spanned most of my life. I forget that sometimes. But when I randomly decide to sit down at my keyboard and play some Chopin, it all comes rushing back. I feel like I’m breathing in real air with actual oxygen in it and can’t understand how I was considering myself fully alive before.
Recently, someone prayed something over me that touched a little tender spot deep inside my heart that hadn’t been touched in some time. Their prayer had to do with comparing myself to others in the context of music-making. They mentioned words like “insecurity” and “feeling inadequate.” They weren’t referring to classical music, but suddenly a rush of memories of piano recitals and competitions growing up flooded my mind, and I almost started to cry.
More than distinct memories, what I was remembering was a certain feeling––an underlying dread mixed with doubt I used to feel as a pianist. As I pictured the recital hall I used to perform in as a kid, I remembered the feeling of knowing failure was only one mistake away, knowing I would never measure up to my peers, knowing that criticism was imminent, knowing the incredible fragility of everything I had worked for.
It was a feeling I had almost forgotten.
As I was reflecting on it later, God said: The identity of “not good enough” does not belong to you anymore.
Piano was never something I was pressured to do, but freely chose.
I was naturally averse to the competitive aspect of classical music, but I chose again and again to push myself to the next level as a pianist––all the way to the “Master’s” level––simply because I loved it. There really was no other reason.
I always thought piano was a good part of my life. And it was––it is. But after that prayer I realized that there was a small part of it that had been poison to me.
It wasn’t the competition, judgment, or critique in and of itself. Evaluation by others is a fact of life we must all accept. Competition can push you to your highest potential if you will let it. (My piano tuner growing up imparted that wisdom to me. True story.) The poison was a lie that crept in at some point and took up residence inside me, this label that I allowed to lodge itself in my heart: Not good enough.
Suddenly I wondered if maybe this was the reason for my classical music hiatus. Perhaps this was why God had removed it from my life. So I could be healed. So I could separate myself from this feeling of inadequacy.
I don’t know if that’s the case. I’m not certain exactly what God has in store on this adventure I’m living (which is what makes it an adventure) or all the reasons why He has me where He has me right now. What I do know is that hearing those words from Him was powerful. It was like having that poison sucked out of me and feeling the blood rush through my veins again with renewed vigor.
The other thing I know: I love classical music.
The Music Lover
This week I started working on Chopin’s Ballade No. 4 again. (Once I master this one, I’ll have learned all four!)
After asking God if it would be a waste of time to practice classical pieces rather than devote my time to song writing and worship music, He reminded me how many times He has told me over the past two years to keep practicing and not let go of classical music, and I decided to start practicing piano regularly again. (It’s really hard to keep up this kind of goal without a classical music community to spur me on, but by God’s grace…)
Typical piano stress dream. Except in this dream, I wasn’t stressed. Incredibly, even though I was dropping my coat and books all over the floor (as I often do in real life), I felt no stress!
I woke up remembering what I had realized the night before. I love Classical music. Classical music is powerful. It’s beautiful. It’s a vehicle of transcendence and revelation. That’s the reason I do it. Not to prove something about myself to anyone––not even to myself. It’s not about that at all.