Wins that look like losses

Even now, though I don’t know his name, my eyes fill with tears thinking of him. He doesn’t know that he gained himself a prayer warrior last night.

Sixty-seven youth, aged 8-18 filed into the building for auditions for the Christian Youth Theater’s upcoming performance of Mary Poppins. Widely varying abilities, all shapes and sizes, each one would take his or her turn on stage, all alone, standing on the X in front of the six artistic judges. Each one would sing, some would say a few lines.

All would show tremendous courage.

This was my first experience watching youth auditions, and my eyes welled up with tears more than once. I was so incredibly inspired by the courage each kid demonstrated and truly stunned by the level of talent displayed. These kids can SING! One girl sang I Have Confidence from The Sound of Music and it sounded straight-up Julie Andrews–amazing!

But the very best auditioner of the whole night, the one who brought me to full-tears, the one who showed the most valiant display of courage that maybe I have ever witnessed, the biggest win of the night…

…was a little boy who never even made it to the song.

As he stood up I could barely even see his head, he was very small. Within seconds, as he made his way toward the front, we could all see his state. His dark head bowed low, eyes straight down at his feet, shoulders hunched over. His dark-skinned arms folded tightly in on his chest, his hands wringing back in forth in obvious agitation.

We held our breath. I leaned forward in my seat. Everything in me came alive in attention. Come on, champ. You can do this.

He shuffled his way to the front, he tried to look up at the judges. He tried to remember what to say.

The coordinator smiled kindly and offered, “What’s your name?” He mumbled something no one could hear. She smiled. “Great. What song are you singing?” He mumbled something else no one could hear.

I leaned forward and smiled, fighting back tears, desperately trying to impart some trace of courage into his precious soul.

It was silent.

His fear was palpable.

And then the music began.

Wild panic filled his eyes. I swallowed hard. Please, Jesus. Please.

He stood, stricken, for a few agonizing moments.

And then he fled, in a dead run, off the stage.

We all exhaled.

Oh God. I wanted to leap from my seat and run and find him and swoop him up and hide him in my arms. I wanted to somehow impart to his soul that he is precious. That he was the most brave person of the whole night. That the God of the Universe was so incredibly proud of him and that he had value and worth and he was a PRIZE. That he was a STAR.

The audience applauded, just as we did for every performer. Oh Jesus let him know the applause of heaven. Out of the corner of my eye I saw him in the back, tucked into the arms of his light-skinned Mama. I thanked God for her, I wanted to hold HER, as I knew she probably needed to curl up onto someone’s arms just as much as he did.

She showed as much courage as anyone. A little later I saw her slip quietly out the back door, holding her sweet boy’s hand. Oh Jesus please bless her.

The rest of the night went smoothly. As the girls and I got into our car, we talked about that little boy, how he was the most brave of all. On the drive home, we prayed over him.

I prayed that he would grow to be a mighty man of God, that God would do astounding things in his life and that someday he would look back at this day, the day that felt like a fail, and he would know that it was a WIN. That just going up on that stage was a death-blow to the enemy of fear, and just because he didn’t make it to the song, IT WAS STILL A WIN.

Oh friend–Do you know this? Do you know that just the fact that you are doing [fill in the blank], that is a WIN? EVERY step of obedience, EVERY courageous act, EVERY time you say yes to Jesus and you do that thing that scares you half to death, that is a win! Even if you run off stage at the last minute. Even if you end up in a puddle of tears. May you hear the applause of heaven!

And, may we have compassion enough to recognize that what may be easy for us may take tremendous courage for those around us. May we set aside our preoccupation with strength, beauty, success, achievement, and celebrate the quiet courage that it sometime takes to just show up.

Cheering for you. Thanks for reading.