Notes About Life: 4 - Be Where You Are

When I was 12 or 13 I was preparing my very first hymn arrangement to perform as a musical number in church. I was learning "Nearer, My God, to Thee" which, at the time, was my very favorite hymn. Approximately two weeks before I was scheduled to perform I was playing the song all the way through for my piano teacher at our early morning lesson. I did pretty well, but messed up the hardest section a bit more than usual. Still, I was proud and after the vibrations faded I turned to my teacher expecting a compliment. Instead she said, "Esther, you need to slow down. You're rushing the whole song. It's as if you think that going faster will get you nearer to God. It won't. So take a deep breath, start again, and this time, slow down!" 

I remember laughing at her joke and I made a concerted effort to slow down during my performance. Ever since, every time I perform that song I think about my teacher's reminder that going faster doesn't get me any nearer to God.

The idea is so contrary to both my spiritual sensitivities and my musical mind. I feel like all my life I've been taught that life on earth is a race back to heaven. Like I've got to keep moving forward quickly because "improvement and progression are one eternal round" and I need to "be perfect even as my Father which is in heaven is perfect." I don't need to become perfect, I need to be perfect. I need to be there already. Like every tired child on a cross-country road trip, I need to know, "Am I there yet?!" 

Music presented a similar struggle for me. Almost every piece of classical music comes with a suggested tempo marking at the beginning. Sometimes that tempo marking is a range from a slower-faster option depending on the pianist's preference. Other times there's a single tempo for which to aim. In my 20 years as a musician, I don't think I have ever reached the fastest suggested tempo. Not once. I'm always a few ticks too slow. The better I got at practicing the more frustrating this became. No matter how many hours I spent on a section, speeding up one metronome marking at a time, I never actually made it to the goal. 

I think one of my teachers once tried to comfort me by telling me that the tempo markings were just suggestions and the composers and/or editors usually suggested a bit high and didn't actually mean for musicians to play that fast. I appreciated that...until I listened to a recording of the song I was learning and the concert violinist was performing the piece perfectly at the fastest marked tempo. Then I was depressed. I jumped back into practicing, determined to speed up that song all the way. I drilled and drilled those sections at the fastest tempo I could perfectly play them and every 5-10 drills I would increase the metronome by a single mark. It took hours but I was making progress. Until I suddenly plateaued and nothing I did got me any faster. It was fast enough to perform, but it wasn't 'full speed.' I gave up. My life moved in a different direction and I never performed that song. 

Years later I found myself in a similar situation. I had a goal speed but my drilling found me stuck between the 88 and 92 beat per minute marks. I just couldn't seem to make that jump from 88. No matter how many sets of perfect fives I managed at 88 BPM, each time I moved to 92 I failed and had to go back. I started feeling the pressure of deadlines encroaching. The performance in 2 months, a rehearsal in 3 weeks, the desperate need to be faster (my goal was 116 BPM). Every day I found myself asking, "Am I there yet? How long until I get there?" At one point I thought I'd finally broken 92 BPM, only to go back a day later and realize that when I played at 88 I was pretty confident but at 92 I was one stressed thought away from disaster. I went back to 88.

What was I doing wrong? All my life I'd been taught to practice until I could play a perfect five in a row and then increase my speed and achieve another perfect five. That's what I was doing but it wasn't working. All the doubt, self-recrimination, feelings of not being good enough, and fear of failure started encroaching until in one desperate moment I was gently reminded that "Going faster doesn't get you closer to God." Apparently going faster faster doesn't get me closer to 116 either. 

I took a deep breath and had the thought, "Esther, be where you are." Where was I? At 88 BPM. So, instead of playing a perfect five expecting to increase my speed, I started drilling without any expectation at all. I simply played and replayed the section until I was so relaxed that playing at 88 felt as easy as playing at 60. Only then, once I was completely at ease being at 88, did I increase my metronome. I played at 92 perfectly. 96, on the other hand, was a nightmare. So there I was at 92 and I did the whole thing again and again and again. 

The proof is in the practice (as they [don't] say). Whether or not you agree with my conclusion, I feel convinced that practicing to get faster is the wrong approach, asking "am I there yet" won't get you closer to your destination, and going faster won't get you nearer to God. Rather we hear messages of "peace be unto you," reminders to "doubt not and fear not," and loving encouragement to "Be still, and know that I am God." 

Life isn't a race. Improvement and progression shouldn't feel stressful and like you're one mistake from disaster. There are those who will tell you that there's "no growth in the comfort zone and no comfort in the growth zone." I disagree. Sure, there's a moment of excited anticipation when you make that change from 88 to 92. That moment of wondering if you're actually ready for this but it shouldn't feel hard. Similarly, the thought that you're "only at 88" shouldn't cause distress because God doesn't care how fast you can play. He doesn't! He cares about where you are. As in, are you close or far away from Him and speed has nothing to do with that. After all, going faster doesn't get you closer to Him.

So don't live to get "there" faster. 

Live to find His peace. [That moment that feels as calm, confident, and relaxed as being solidly at 88].

Don't ask, "Am I there yet?" 

Ask, "Where am I?"

Then be there. Be still. And be nearer to God.