It came as tragedies often do – unexpectedly. I was setting up for an Easter music rehearsal at the church where I would be singing when a member of the band came in looking exhausted. He’d gotten a call just six hours earlier that his good friend and brother-in-law had gone into the hospital for a routine, out-patient procedure that morning and died on the table. A simple biopsy led to internal bleeding, and suddenly he was gone.
The rest of the band gathered around him as he shared the story and told us how he was feeling. We did what friends do. We listened. We prayed for him and his family. We hugged him. Told him we loved him and were there for him. As we finally gathered our instruments to start rehearsal, he simply said, “Thank God for community.”
Isn’t that true? In moments like that, when life turns sideways, we’re reminded of how good it is to have people around us. To know and be known. To love and be loved. It helps in good times too. Having people to share victories with makes them all the sweeter. I’ve heard it said that sorrows shared are halved and joys shared are multiplied. I think that’s about right.
I’ve been thinking a lot about community lately. My wife Lisa and I have been discussing where and how we want to live in this next season of life. Our son Kilian is a graphic designer in Sacramento and our daughter Kennedy heads to New York in a few months to pursue acting after her college graduation. We live in Phoenix in a house that’s more than we need for just the two of us. As an author, Lisa can work from anywhere, and as a contract church musician moving into novel and personal development writing, I have a lot of flexibility as well. Do we move near one of the kids? Downsize to a condo in Arizona? Stay in our current house so we have room for visits from potential future grandchildren?
I’ve found that as we weigh the pros and cons of each option, one of the most significant factors for me is community. We’ve been in the Phoenix area for more than 13 years, and I’ve developed deep, life-giving friendships. The kind that only develop with time and effort. Ones that I would not surrender lightly.
It’s about more than just having someone to hang out with. Even more than having people who will hold me up in the hard times and share my joy when life is good. It’s about the kind of person I want to be. I’ve come to learn that I can’t become myself alone. I can’t fully develop into my true self without other people. Friends who help me discover the best in me. Who challenge me to smooth out my rough edges. Who encourage me to grow into the deepest, truest, most satisfying, and joyful version of myself.
That kind of community comes with a price. Relationships are messy, time consuming, and sometimes exhausting. There’s always the risk of being hurt or disappointed. But I wouldn’t want to live my life any other way. I’ve found that the benefits far outweighs the costs. My life is richer, more satisfying, and more joyful because of the people close to me. And I’m a better person too.
So what about you? Do have real relationships? With friends you can count on and who can count on you? Are you being intentional about developing and maintaining a community of people who have access to the real you? Who have permission to speak into your life?
If you want to grow in this area, you may need to reach out to family or old friends who have drifted away. Or maybe you can seek out real relationships at work or a church or a club or a class. My son Kilian found community in his new city by going to “Game of Thrones” and Bar Trivia groups posted on meetup.com. Whatever it is for you, I encourage you to take that first step. Reach out. Cultivate new relationships. Develop the ones you already have. Be intentional. Open up. Go deeper. Build real community. If you do, you’ll take another step toward Becoming Yourself.
I was munching on a Cornish pasty when it happened. My wife and I were having dinner at an English-style pub with some of her author friends when one of them asked me, “So Matt, how did you decide to become a pastor?”
So I told him. When I was a teenager, I was very involved in the youth group at my church. I’d never done anything musical until I was dragged into singing for the dreaded “Teen Talent Night” service my youth pastor organized. Shortly after that debut performance, our group went camping for a week during the summer before my senior year in high school. On the return trip we put on a Sunday night youth service for a small country church in Indiana. My youth pastor spontaneously asked me to sing during the service, and I nervously obliged.
What happened next is something I’ve never been able to explain. I know this will sound really strange, even ludicrous, to many of you, but the best way I can describe it is this: God showed up. The presence of something, of Someone, vast and grand and powerful and wonderful and awe-inspiring fell on me like a brick. I was staggered by the intensity of the Otherness. I managed a one word prayer: “Music?” A wave of peace, a flood of affirmation, washed over me. Then the presence faded. I stood up and walked slowly out to the van knowing my calling was to perform music for God.
A year later, I showed up as a freshman at Calvin College determined to be a vocal performance major. But there were a few problems. I was not very good at singing and completely clueless about music. I had some raw talent, but my experience was minimal and my training close to zero. I was immediately over my head and soon far behind in my classes. My declared major required me to be in one of the three choirs on campus, but I got cut from all of them. Even the “if-you-can-sing-in-the-shower” choir. I had music professors pat me on the knee and tell me I was a nice kid but I would never make it. Their advice was for me to switch majors.
Two things saved me. The first was Professor Carl Kaiser, the head of the vocal department. For some strange reason, he believed in me when no one else did. The second was the strength of my calling experience in that little church. I knew at a deep, core level that this was what I supposed to do. I clung to that belief, dug in, and clawed my way through my freshman year. After dropping some classes and getting a special music tutor, I began making some progress. By the end of that first exhausting year, I was caught up and in a choir. I went on to excel in the program and graduated with a music degree in vocal performance.
If you’re really honest, the biggest hurdle to living out your calling is probably fear. Fear of failure, fear of the unknown, fear of financial insecurity, fear of what other may think. You’re not alone in that struggle. That said, please realize what those fears are stealing from you. George Addair said “Everything you’ve ever wanted is on the other side of fear.” Are you willing to take a risk, face what frightens you and chase your calling? To do what you are meant to do? To become who you are meant to be?
If you need some guidance and encouragement, check out The Crossroads of Should and Must: Find and Follow Your Passion by Elle Luna. It’s a colorful, graphic-filled guide to discovering and pursuing your calling. I found it motivating, helpful and easy to read.
My goal for this blog is to share things I’ve learned in hopes that it will help people become better versions of themselves. If you’re reading this, I’m guessing you’re on a personal development path. Doing what you were meant to do is a significant part of that journey. So look inside. Find your calling. Chase after it with everything you have. If you do, you’ll take a huge step toward Becoming Yourself.
I never forget to eat. When I wake up in the morning, then around noon, and again in the evening, my growling stomach reminds me that my body needs food. Consistently filling my physical tank comes pretty easily, but I often loose sight of the fact that I have other tanks as well. An emotional tank. A relational tank. A spiritual tank.
I recently sensed a dryness in my spiritual tank during an intense week I spent finishing the rough draft of my first novel. The work was going well but left me feeling drained. After running some errands, I had just gotten back to the apartment where my wife 
Changing my plans, I left the apartment and walked down to a local art gallery. I spent the next half hour just soaking in the beauty of paintings and sculpture. Something about the nature of art has a spiritual component that feeds my soul. I’ve learned that for my spiritual tank to be filled, I need to regularly focus on things that are beautiful. Prayer, spiritual writings, silence and solitude, and spirit-focused gatherings are all helpful too, but taking in beauty is a key practice for me. I left the gallery feeling recharged and at peace.
What feeds your soul? What type of beauty fills your spiritual tank? Maybe it’s a walk in nature or listening to moving music or viewing great art. Whatever it is, I encourage you to start by taking 4 minutes to
As the deer pants for streams of water,
Why, my soul, are you downcast?
By day the Lord directs his love,
Why, my soul, are you downcast?