Nathan and I hung out a lot on Sunday.  He’s one of the pastors at Riverside’s Sandals Church.  He used to work in the music business as a manager. At one point we got to talking about expectations and how they affect what I do on stage and off.

For the last couple years I’ve moved from 90% ad lib in concert to maybe 10%.  90% of what I do on stage these days, in other words, is stuff I’ve done before: same stories, same songs, same jokes.  The tricky part is making it sound like it’s never happened before.  It’s not as fun to perform this way because, for me, it feels like a performance.  That’s against everything in my singer songwriter body.  It feel fake.  But it’s necessary.

That’s because when I ad lib around an outline of the night, the odds of someone being offended goes up tremendously and I don’t want something I say to be a barrier between even one person and a child in need of help. I represent Compassion and, I confessed to Nathan, that turns out to be harder than representing Jesus.  That sounds awful, I know, but that’s how it seems.  It’s a lot of pressure to feel as if the future of someone else’s kid hangs, to any degree, on me.  (Of course thinking that is arrogant.  I know.  Spare me the bible verses about God’s sovereignty in the comments, please.)

Compassion has never asked me to change my show.  I’ve done it on my own.  I’ve eliminated the possibility that I’ll say “crap” or mention how “hot” my wife is or play a “secular” song or talk too much or too little.  These are things I’ve done in the past on a whim and been spanked for in the lobby afterwards.

Truth is some people are looking desperately for a reason NOT to sponsor a child, not to listen to me at all.  And I’ll give them that reason if I’m myself long enough.

But for the last two weeks I’ve torn up the script.  I’ve had fun on stage again.  I’ve felt freedom again. I don’t think I’ve offended anyone.  I don’t think I’ve given anyone cause to ignore my cause.  But that will happen, Nathan assured me.  He also assured me the spankers do not represent the majority and that if I upset the loud minority I’m still, oddly enough, useful to God and loved too.

This isn’t stuff I don’t know.  But it’s the right encouragement/reminder at just the right time.  Thanks, Nathan.