where are your eyes?

We are smack-dab in the middle of the run of "Risen", and what a wild ride it has been! Last night's performance was a little crazy. There were little glitches and hiccups here and there.... which happens (welcome to live theatre). As trained actors, we know that we just keep moving through the performance and trust that God will fill in the gaps where we make mistakes. This doesn't always prevent frustration though, especially when you're a perfectionist.... but the show must continue.

Despite my best efforts, I could not focus on the show at all! I was present on stage, going through the motions, but I felt like I was elsewhere. It was easy to be distracted as my mind wandered far from the moment. In desperation, I prayed through each scene- both from the wings while waiting for cues as well as when actually under the lights and in character. At one point, I kept telling myself, "Focus. Come on. Look at Jesus. Keep your eyes on Jesus and don't see the distractions."

One of the challenges of "Risen" is that Jesus is not portrayed by an actor, but through a white cloth that is manipulated by a bunraku technician (or, as we lovingly call them, prop ninjas). This is so that a person in the audience won't be hindered by the choices of an actor, but instead can see Jesus however they personally know Him. By doing this, you can place yourself among the disciples and in the very real story.

However, as an actor, it's not always a simple task to react to a piece of fabric as if it were a living, breathing person/savior. Additionally, there's an angel walking around stage- an angel that is invisible to our characters. So the mental process can sound something like, "Remember where you stand a move, focus on portraying the appropriate emotion and communicating through the song, ignore the angel, focus on the Jesus cloth." Throw in the immense lack of focus and personal distractions of last night, and you see how those desperate prayers emerge.

I'm pretty sure you see where the real-life similarities exist. I don't have to tell you how easy it is to be distracted from worship, from service, from the purposes of God's kingdom. And you know the solution is keeping our eyes on Christ, maintaining focus on the way, truth, and life. And of course, though the concept is simple, it's no easier than performing with a piece of cloth and a non-invisible angel while your mind and heart are on things beyond the stage. But it's not impossible, and He hears our desperate prayers. As we saw last night, God makes beautiful things, even out of the distracted offerings we lay at His feet.

I urge you to come see "Risen" tonight or next weekend. If the past five shows are any indication, it's likely you will witness some kind of miracle.

alas and did

I sit in front of my laptop on the Monday after our first weekend of "Risen" performances. There is so much that could be said.... do I recap the past few weeks of blogging neglect? Brag about our God who works healing miracles on stage- and off? Share excitement of a great opening weekend and urge you to come see the show soon? I could do all these things, but I fear it would only drive you to hit that little exit button, muttering, "too long, did not read."

Instead, I shall share what is on my heart today. Part of my role in "Risen" involves singing a rather sad song after Jesus has died. In the despair of losing my friend, hero, and hope, I can only sit and ask why.

"Alas and did my Savior bleed, and did my Sovereign die
Would He devote that sacred head for such a worm as I?"

In the midst of a busy schedule, enveloped in the organized chaos of work, school, and theater, I have stumbled into some personal challenges. As I face things within myself that are less than pretty, I found myself asking this exact question. Why, God, did you go through all that trouble for me? I am not worth that kind of sacrifice!

"Was it for sin that I have done He groaned upon the tree?

Amazing pity, grace unknown, and love beyond degree..."

Such a love is difficult for me to comprehend. Years of Sunday school and Bible study put the words on paper and the answers in my head. Yet, the reality is too far beyond understanding to truly grasp. Could it be that we treat pure love so lightly that we overlook how deeply, incredibly powerful it is?

"Now might the sun in darkness hide, and shut his glories in

When Christ the mighty maker died for man, the creature's, sin.

As might I hide my blushing face when His dear cross appears

dissolve my heart in thankfulness and melt my eyes to tears!"

We've learned and we know that, though we continue to sin, God continues to forgive- infinitely. What a fantastic display of that love in action! Yet, does it break anyone else's heart to keep messing up? To see and process the beautiful sadness of Jesus' brutal death on the cross, followed by the glorious hope of His resurrection, then remember our mistakes motivated the entire thing.... that's heavy. But to understand this and yet continue to sin.... that's a recipe for heartfelt sorrow.

I recognize that it is impossible for us to live sinless lives, and that God designed the entire system with this in mind. I also realize that our Heavenly Daddy is blessed by the motivations of our heart and earnest efforts inspired by love for Him. However, I can't publish an honest entry if I tie it all up in a nice, neat bow of perfect words. When I sit in the light of that stage with flowers in my hand, my song comes from my soul.

"My God, why would you shed Your blood, so pure and undefiled

To make a sinful one like me Your chosen, precious child?"

rock, paper, singers

Perhaps you remember the rocky tomb from "Risen".

This photo is a little dark, but you still see that it's a big 'ol rock. I bet you never imagined that it starts out a little something like this:

No, that is not The Blob taking over the stage. No, we did not borrow a set piece from a putt-putt golf course. That, my friends, is the mid-stages of construction of a realistic-looking rocky tomb. A mixture of glue, water, and paint (the cheapest we can find, regardless of color) combined with newspaper creates a durable papier mache. This covers a frame of chicken wire to create the rock shape. When it dries, it is painted with various shades of grey until one might assume we just brought in a cave straight from nature. Or at least, something very close to it. ;)

There's an extra special piece hidden, too. You see, we wrote the names of people for whom we are praying and added it to the frame. While we perform "Risen", we will remember them. They are part of the set.... just as they are part of hearts. Sometimes, it's easy to be lost in the mechanics of production and lose sight of what's truly important. This is one small way we maintain perspective.

As we near our final rehearsals, I am personally striving to keep the big picture in mind. In addition to the work for the show- from blocking and music to writing a short biography for the playbill and securing my costume, as well as continuing work on the next show, "Job"- there are increasing responsibilities outside of the theater. Part of my job at a church means that Easter is a particularly busy time, and the semester is in full swing at school. Sure, I can do all things through Christ who gives me strength, but I have a tendency to push the limit of how many things that includes. At this time last year, I was in the middle of a job search and moving to a new home. This year, I am juggling jobs and house-breaking a puppy. Sometimes, I imagine a mythical time "when things are less busy", but when will I choose for that to happen?

For the moment, "busy" is just what it is. It's easy to be overwhelmed and let stress suck momentum from the campaign to accomplish everything. But as I sat atop the platform on stage, perched over chicken wire with pink, goop-covered hands, I took a breath. Maybe it was the feeling of the slimy papier mache mixture, or being surrounded by friends as we constructed the set. Perhaps it was taking time for a creative, artistic act while singing along to fun music. There is something magically soothing about singing (or maybe it's less magic and more about the mechanics of the controlled breathing that is required). Regardless, in the midst of my current chaotic life, I found oasis in the rock.

Then again, why am I surprised? I always find oasis in The Rock.

the rest

A tight-knit cast shares a lot of things. We share laughter, we share tears. We are together for meals, fun times, prayer, and crisis. Often, we see one another outside the walls of the theater, intertwining our lives. A tight-knit cast shares many things- including germs.

The show must go on, they say. In fact, it's a motto by which many of us live. It is rare for illness to keep us from the stage- many performances have been in spite of fever, exhaustion, or even a lack of voice (God has miraculously pulled us through many shows!). Unless it's absolutely necessary, most of us will still attend rehearsal with kleenex and cough drops in tow, lest we fall behind on our work. This dedication has its rewards, but the discipline comes with a cost.

i'm not sure how many- if any- of the current cast of Risen has escaped this blend of sick. I certainly haven't. These words are typed between (punctuated by?) sneezes and sniffles. This epidemic (combined with a few other circumstances) inspired Ian to cancel rehearsal this coming Sunday. He gave us strict orders to rest.

Rest?

It's a familiar suggestion (command?), as Kelly- my roommate, castmate, and fellow victim of The Illness- continues to tell me I won't heal unless I take time to rest. I argue that I have taken a reasonable term on the couch, then rush off to my next class/work shift/meeting/whatever. These things are important. They are responsibilities, not recreational outings. The world does not stop merely because my body is housing germs of the persistently evil kind.

There's a lesson here, isn't there? Some cliche reminder that even God rested on the seventh day? But hey, He's the Master of the Universe. He plays by His own rules. When I've accomplished the creation of even one planet, then I can apply this seventh-day nap clause. Of course, Jesus sets plenty of examples of a balanced life of work, play and rest. And we are definitely called to pattern our habits after His. This is going to be another instance where life offstage mirrors principals learned from the stage, isn't it?

If you need me, I'll be on the couch in pajamas, watching another episode of "Scrubs"..... kleenex in hand, of course.

do i trust him?

The rehearsal process continues. Each Sunday, we add a few new scenes, and it feels like we're hurtling toward the completed show at record speed. Most of our time this week was spent on choreography, but before we closed the curtain for the day, we sat down to review the "big picture". When we rehearse, we take the scenes out of order. Instead of starting at the beginning and moving chronologically through the show, rehearsals begin with things that need more attention. Once complicated group pieces or difficult moments are established, it's easy to plug in simpler songs closer to opening night (this phenomena is why, during "Journey to the Manger", a short scene between Ryan and I wasn't even blocked until we were about to start tech rehearsals. This keeps us on our toes- translation: it's a fun challenge!). Looking so closely at individual songs can make one forget the flow of the story. This mini-review pulled us all back together in a unified vision.

My brain was already running at top speed, so I couldn't simply just sit still and listen. As Ian spoke, I flipped through my script and analyzed what I know of the show combined with the new information he was giving. The editor in me began the string of "what if we..." and "how could we improve the boat?" and "do you think that's such a good idea? wouldn't it be better if...?" and "is he sure about that?".... until an internal voice interjected. "Don't you trust your director?"

The racing thoughts screeched to a halt.

Of course I tru- why wouldn't i? What are you saying? I'm only trying- And I realized that having this conversation in my head borders on crazy. If I'm arguing with myself, it means I'm justifying something I already know isn't quite right.

It's often said that "theater is a team sport", and it's very true that only a group effort can execute a successful production. While Ian welcomes input and feedback- which often improves the final product- there is still order to the operation. Ian is the director, and he's in the position for a reason. And since this is a Masquer show, there's another element not often found in mainstream theater: God's direction. The Lord inspired this show from the beginning, and His input continues to direct us now, as well. I have the opportunity to contribute to a future show, "Job", as I am part of the team of creators. But my role in "Risen" is ensemble; I am not in charge. Suddenly, I understood that I was not arguing with myself, but with that Still Small Voice that often keeps me in check.

"Do you trust Ian? Do you trust Me? Bottom line- do you trust your Director?"

I start out very ready to take instructions, unworried about where the path leads. When I get a glimpse of the bigger vision, I get excited. What good things are coming! My little piece of participation breeds a desire for a more hands-on role. Suddenly, I think my good ideas are the best way to proceed. I assume I know the entire big picture and can handle it. If I'm not careful, I rush ahead in silly zeal and the best of intentions. In these moments, I imagine God looking down on me in amusement. "Look at that little one, who thinks she knows what's going on!" I'm like a little kid in the kitchen, wearing an over-sized apron and surrounded by a mess of flour- truly convinced that I know how to bake on my own (ok, so this isn't far from an actual moment of me in the kitchen as an adult, but that's not the point of the illustration). Again, I am reminded that I can't take control into my own hands when the capable Director knows what is best for the show.

I love how God meets me where I am and says, "Hey, I'm going to teach you something!" He found me sitting on the stage, so He sat next to me and whispered in my ear. He's my favorite Director.

emotional

I have a lot of distractions calling my name at the moment. Most of them are good, responsible, necessary kind of things. But I wanted to get my thoughts on paper (um, computer monitor) before I lost the few I have about "Risen" this week.

Yeah, I said just a "few". That's it. No brilliant realizations, epiphanies, or life lessons. No questions stirred, pondered, or contemplated.

- I feel very compelled to pray for unity among the cast, crew, and extending beyond to our host church and families. Few things can halt a Masquer production. We take the stage in spite of personal problems or looming obstacles. In sickness or in health, we perform. But division can do a little damage in a theater company, especially one as tightly knit as this. Before questions or rumors begin, please do not read too much into this paragraph. It is merely one of a few things on my mind, my own personal concern. So by all means, pray for unity- but do not worry for a minute that there's anything between these lines.

- Work day was brief for me on Saturday, due to a prior commitment. It was also a superb example of teamwork. Many hands made fairly light work of moving a sixteen-foot-high climbable lattice from point "a" to point "b". Yes, it was a journey of less than twelve inches, but this thing is ginormous (as you will see WHEN you come to "Risen" ;) ). Here's a picture from last year to give you an idea.

Of course, you'll have to imagine it with out the finished rock, because that's only a wooden frame at the moment. And you can't see the full scale... but you get the idea. Big structure, success by teamwork. It's the only way to go.

- During Sunday's rehearsal, we blocked a few scenes, including the finale. This last song, when Jesus ascends to heaven, was previously one of the hardest-hitting for me. My character has already come to terms with losing her beloved savior and friend, and then the shock, wonder, and amazement at His return. Now, He was leaving again- though this time under much happier circumstances and with a promise to be around always. Can you imagine how trippy this must've been for the disciples? In the past months, they'd been through some crazy stuff. With no past experience to base this one, they had only faith to cling to as they attempted to process all the events- events that included the death of Someone they fully expected to live and conquer. Of course, from our big-picture vantage point, we know that's exactly what Jesus did, but in the midst of the day-by-day it couldn't have been so easy to accept.

So that's how I felt last year.... after thinking you've forever lost the person most dear to your heart, then swooping from devastation to joy in His miraculous return, only to say good-bye again, that's a lot of emotion to carry in one's heart. Throw in the peace that passes all understanding as you stand under a cloud of glory with instructions to go spread the word- yeah... you get the idea. But so far in this rehearsal process, that hasn't set in yet. i'm sure it's the familiarity combined with the mechanics of blocking. But I still want that connection and don't want it to take too long to "click". Besides my own selfish reasons, I want to perform well and convincingly. In addition to simply wanting to be professional and give my best work, this is also an offering of talent back to the One who blessed me with it in the first place.

the same, yet different

I've never done the same show twice. Once the curtain closes on the final night, I say my good-byes to the production and prepare for whatever is next.

A year ago, we began the premiere of the original show, "Risen". As we entered the emotional journey of Christ's followers, I was in the midst of my own emotional journey. I returned to school after five years in the professional world. My position at work had changed and I was seeking a more suitable and permanent job. I was also preparing to move in order to accommodate all these changes.

Learning new songs, new blocking, and a new point of view to a familiar story was intense at times. I welcomed this creative outlet in light of my life's insanity. Working on "Risen" was a tangible way for me to draw close to my Heavenly Father in a tumultuous time.

A year later, we revisit "Risen" with mostly the same cast- yet how many of us are such different people than we were twelve months ago? This girl joins the stage in 2011 after spending a year truly walking in faith as life proves uncertain and ever-changing. The cast of characters in my my personal circle has changed with my new job and new neighborhood- though these things are no longer new, but part of the daily routine. I've had to rely on God's provision like never before, from finances to relationships. Like the disciples in the show's boat scene, I cry out that I need Him EVERY HOUR- every minute, even- merely to exist. Last year, through my character, I was reintroduced to Jesus with fresh eyes. Perhaps this year, I'll be reenacting a love story with my Savior.

Logistically, the rehearsal process will consist of remembering familiar music and blocking, tweaking imperfections, and making changes to adapt to additional members of the ensemble. It's funny how much the work onstage resembles the day-to-day offstage. Though the show is the same, I'm different. We're different. And, upon closer examination, it's anything BUT the same production.

Meanwhile, we are also working on a new original Masquer production, based on the book of Job. A few of us are writing the script and composing music in anticipation of opening the show in the fall. As this project coincides with current rehearsals, I'll be tying in bits and pieces of God's work in that area as well. Already, as I deal with the effects of a dramatic car accident and other life challenges in the past week, I've had a hands-on lesson on some of Job's frustration. And, like Job, I still bless the Lord- despite and because of any difficult circumstances.