Great expectations, part 1

So…some more about my background…and with it, some of the cracks that started to appear in my religious foundations…

I grew up as a “good kid”. I said my prayers (usually), I ate my vegetables (mostly), I obeyed my parents (except for a few compulsive behaviors). But even when I didn’t do everything right, I tried very hard to please. I hated to be in trouble. For the most part, I was all about following the rules. Not only did I consider it my honorable duty to keep the rules, but I felt it was my moral obligation to help everyone else keep them, too. If I noticed my mom slightly speeding, I’d point out the speed limit signs. When I saw a classmate breaking a rule, I’d helpfully remind that person that we weren’t supposed to do that.

I can’t understand why all the bullies picked on me. But that’s another blog entry.

Growing up in a religious environment, obviously, meant that “good” behavior from children was praised and rewarded. So while some people buck the system as they grow up…probably due to some deep needs for acceptance, I learned to work the system in my favor. I decided early on that the best way to get what I wanted was to play along, to court favor with the powers that be. Teacher’s pet, and all that. So my “being good” was, in a sense, dishonest. I did have a legitimate desire to be good, and a heart for God beyond my years. I was just a human, too, with a sin nature that needed to be crucified, just like everyone else. So I had other motives than being good for goodness sake.

The other thing I had going for me was that I had musical talent. I started on guitar when I was about four, fooled around with that till I was nine, and then went to piano, which I was pretty good at. I remember being at Christian school in 7th grade; the school choir director was also the church’s music director, and since the school building was right next to the church building, he gave me special permission to go into the choir room and play the piano during lunch. The three cutest girls in school were all best friends, and I had a crush on one of them, and they paid absolutely no attention to me. So while I was playing piano in the choir room one day, in walked the cute-best-friend trio. When they heard me playing, they ran to me and surrounded me and talked and giggled in those high-pitched voices and made over me—I couldn’t have daydreamed it any better than it happened. I was instantly addicted to the attention, and from that day on I tried to play piano in front of people as often as I could, especially girls.

As a young teenager–and a “good boy”–when the church folks discovered I could play, I got a lot of welcome attention. (Talent is always on demand on church worship teams.)And when they found out I could write my own songs, too…that was the icing on the cake. As I approached college age, I was somewhat of a celebrity at the mega-church my family attended. I played piano on the worship team, I led worship at youth group, I did a couple of concerts of my own music…I became the boy the church mothers hoped their daughters would marry. (If they had only known the real me.)

By now, some of you can already see the setup. I had great expectations, I was going places, I was destined for greatness, etc., etc.

I’m going to say something that at first will sound very un-churchy, very un-motivational, and very un-American…

Great expectations can be a terrible curse.

I’ll unpack that statement in part 2.