Thursday, July 20, 2006

I Would Do Anything For Love...But I Won't Do That

Last Friday concluded the end of Westminster's VBS, and along with it my tenure as "Captain Ramjet," leader of Space Camp and all-around goofy character in the cast of Genesis Space Probe, the daily skits. This dream obviously is a byproduct of several weeks of practicing and performing the skits in the church sanctuary.

I'm sitting in church, realizing that I am about to perform something of some sort for a full congregation. Soon I understand that this is it...the performance that we've been diligently practicing weeks for, but strangely enough I don't know the act, my words or the storyline. Nothing. All I know is that I have a part coming up soon and if I don't remember it I will certainly let everyone down and lose some serious face in front of the congregation (as if wearing a space costume in church isn't enough already).

Then, suddenly, the words start coming to me, but it's like I'm trying to stop a rollercoaster that's just started to move. I have no idea where the words are coming from but they're coming faster with each moment. Every word that leaves my lips is a surprise to me, both because I wasn't thinking the word before I spoke it and because the words make sense with the other members of the cast that I am dialoguing with. Being out of control slowly becomes natural for me, because everything I say flows into the character I am portraying.

But then it happens...that feeling. The one that tells you this isn't just a simple play or skit. No, this is far more complex and soulful. A feeling slowly starts to climb from the inner recesses of my mind to reveal that, yes, what we have here is a musical and I have a solo emerging. Not only is this a musical where I have a solo, but for the first time in the dream I recognize one of my cues. My stomach sinks as I make out the first notes to Meatloaf's "I Would Do Anything for Love...But I Won't Do That," and before I can attempt to run from the sanctuary I've burst into song with a full "Bat Out of Hell" gripping vocal. And oddly, no one seems uncomfortable by the performace.

The words keep coming, flying from my mouth like water from an open fire hydrant. I am on full auto-pilot and there's nothing I can do about it. As I walk about the sancutary gesticulating like a Tourette's sufferer, I think ahead and am terrified to discover what next I will sing...

"Sometimes I just pray to the God of sex and drums and rock 'n' roll..."

The elders will come remove me, I'm sure of it, but I belt out the lyrics and everyone just stares back at me with thoughtful looks that hint of wheels turning in their heads about important matters. Perhaps they realize that I'm only playing a character, someone that the unbeliever can relate to or one that gives a short glimpse of what their lives were like before coming to Christ? Yes, that is it. I'll be free in mere moments and hop off this rollercoaster ride.

But wait. There's more. You haven't finished the song, the tempo is slowing down considerably and that must mean....no, please, no...I still have to sing...

"But I'll never forgive myself if we don't go all the way, tonight..."

The show must go on, so I keep the musical circus rolling through multiple "I would do anything for love"s with my eyes closed, mostly because I fear the looks of those watching, but I also think that this will help lend to the idea that I'm in character and not really meaning what I'm singing. But the music slows and begins to fade into darkness, and I begin to hear murmurings. Opening my eyes I see several people standing about the sanctuary with hands lifted into the air uttering phrases like "Praise you, Jesus" and "Yes, Lord" and "Glory." An old man I've never seen before rises from the back and lets out a bellowing "Amen!" and kicks off a standing ovation for my performance.

But the applause doesn't go to me, I quickly realize...it goes to God, so like a good believer I join in the clapping with my hands over my head and point my face to the sky.