God’s Cure for Stage Fright: How to Sing, Preach, Teach or Give a Speech Without Nervousness – Part 2 By Jamie Lash

I came across this very interesting, thought-provoking,  and useful article about public speaking without nervousness. It’s written by Jamie Lash, Director of Student Development at Dallas Baptist University and co-author of the best-selling book “This Was Your Life!”
Jamie’s website is http://www.LifeGivingWords.com

God’s Cure for Stage Fright: How to Sing, Preach, Teach or Give a Speech Without Nervousness – Part 2
By Jamie Lash

Who Are We Trying to Impress?

Glen’s experience illustrates a profound truth: Nervousness is caused by having the wrong goal. I must ask myself, “Why do I get nervous?” I am either seeking to impress others or trying to avoid embarrassment–two sides of the same selfish coin. In both cases it’s all about me. I am not focusing on the interests of my audience; I am focusing on my own interests. I’m not trying to advance God’s Kingdom; I’m trying to advance my kingdom.

When I’m nervous, what is it that I fear? I’m afraid I’ll say or do something stupid. I seek to avoid being humiliated–especially in front of large numbers of people. Tape recorders and video cameras make me even more nervous because then I can make a fool of myself and have the moment immortalized on tape.

The cure? There’s only one–I must change my goal. No longer can I seek to impress people or to avoid humiliation. I must seek to benefit those in the audience.
God is calling us to purity of heart, purity of motive. A youth minister recently told me that he never gets nervous when he talks to his youth group but that he always gets nervous when he talks to their parents. “Now I realize why,” he said. “I’m trying to impress the parents; I’m trying to help the kids.”

John Powell, a Jesuit priest, shares about being gripped by nervousness in the following testimony:

Along with two others from my order, I was chosen to give a presentation at several universities in the Midwest. Our little traveling trio made big waves wherever we went. Finally we came back to speak at Loyola University, where I teach. There in the audience were 115 Jesuits: the men I live with, eat with, teach with. They were my brothers and I wanted to WOW them.

You’ve never heard me speak, I thought, and I’m really good, and you don’t know it…tonight you’re going to know it. But I was very nervous. And so I said to God, “God, would you relax me? Just put your hands over my heart or something.” And nothing happened.

I said, “Oh come on, God, I want to give a good talk tonight, and if I’m nervous, I won’t.” Then I heard the words that, among other peak experiences with God, have transformed me:

You are getting ready to give a performance, and I don’t want a performance. I want an act of love. You are going to perform for your brothers so they will know how good you are. They don’t need to know how good you are. I don’t want a performance; I want an act of love.

I looked out again. When you’re self-conscious, you’re using everybody for a mirror. How am I going over, huh? What do you think? What do you think of me?

Then there’s that wonderful moment of love when you begin to look out again at those same people and say, What do you want? What do you need? Where do you hurt? Can I help you?

I looked out at my brothers a second time after I heard what I feel sure was the voice of God. I looked at four of our priests who were having a terrible struggle with alcoholism. One of them, poor man, was very sick. All four were going through a terrible trial. Then there were those who had been forced to retire from teaching due to their age. They felt like they were on the shelf, like nobody cared about them. They didn’t say smart things anymore or make bright moves–nobody needed them. I looked out at their faces for a long time.

Then I looked out at those who were physically sick, for whom every step was painful, whose heads ached, whose eyes burned. I looked out at those who were unsuccessful in everything they do. Their students don’t like them; their classes are always unsuccessful. I looked at them for a long time and I kept thinking: And I wanted to WOW you. I wanted to impress you with how good I am. I wanted you to admire me. Oh, you don’t need me for that. You need me to love you.

As I looked out at my brothers, all the nervousness disappeared, and I loved them.

I realized in that moment how cluttered with performances my life has been. I have been a performer. I have been listening for applause after every performance. And in that moment I heard God say to me, Not another performance, but an act of love.

To be continued tomorrow…