Light Your Lamp: Overcoming Fear and Using Your Gifts

I'm currently performing in a musical adaptation of the parable of the Ten Virgins, and I play one of the foolish virgins. My character receives a beautiful, unique lamp from the shopkeeper, who has spent hours carefully smoothing and shaping it. She recognizes how precious this gift is, but is so worried about breaking it or wearing it out that she decides to keep it safely displayed in her home as a decoration for her friends to admire. The tragedy is that she could have been using that lamp to light the pathway for herself, but because she was so afraid of damaging it, she missed her opportunity to actually use it for its intended purpose.

I've been thinking about that a lot lately, particularly in areas of my own life where I've been too afraid to light my lamp. There have been plenty of instances when I've been afraid of what might happen if I truly used my unique gifts. And the thing is, some of those fears come from experience. There have been consequences for putting myself out there. I've been hurt by what other people have said or thought about things I've created and shared, and even the energy and enthusiasm I've brought into my classes. Sometimes when you put yourself out there, you get a little broken in the process. And after a while, it's tempting to protect yourself by keeping those gifts safely tucked away.

Recently, though, I've had a mantra repeating in my mind over and over again: Try harder. Now, I would never presume to look someone in the eyes and tell them to just try harder. That's a pretty presumptuous thing to say when you have no idea what someone is going through or how much effort they're already giving. But I've been asking myself if there are opportunities in my own life where I really could step up and try harder. Not because what I'm doing isn't enough, but because maybe I've been holding back in ways I didn't even realize.

I've been following that feeling particularly when it comes to teaching my classes. I've taught so many classes, workshops, and fitness releases over the years that sometimes it's easy to just go through the motions. But lately I've been asking myself, what can I do to make this class special? How can I make it more than just another class I've taught or another workshop I've put together? Maybe that means taking a little extra time to make sure the choreography is just right, or bringing the dumb black lights to class because I know they'll help set the mood. Maybe it means driving all over Dallas–Fort Worth trying to find a location where I can finally host a weekly musical theatre dance class for adults. And maybe it means taking an actual financial risk, overcoming fear, and investing in creating that space, even though I have no idea whether it will be successful.

It might not work. I might lose money. I might put all this effort into something and have it turn out completely differently than I imagined. But at least I'll know I took the risk and tried harder. And I think that's an important distinction I've been learning. Trying harder doesn't necessarily mean pushing harder against the same wall. Sometimes it means getting up and trying something different. It means looking for other opportunities, listening to suggestions and actually acting on them, or being willing to entertain ideas that initially sound a little scary or foreign. Sometimes it means stepping onto an unfamiliar pathway without knowing exactly where it's going to lead.

What's been interesting is that as I've started following this feeling, I've begun to see opportunities unfolding. I've been more open to possibilities that I might have dismissed before, and I've found myself getting excited about things again. More importantly, I'm starting to feel more like myself. I think somewhere along the way I lost a little bit of myself when it came to teaching classes. I've been really tired lately, and honestly, I've lost some of that spark that used to come so naturally to me. But as I've started putting more of myself into what I'm creating, I've been finding that spark again. It's funny how giving more effort to something can sometimes give you energy instead of taking it away.

I don't think this means we should always be doing more or that we need to push ourselves until we're completely exhausted. There are certainly times when we need to rest, and there are times when something genuinely isn't working and we need to let it go. But I also think there are times when we've become so discouraged or afraid of disappointment that we stop giving ourselves opportunities to experience something wonderful. We convince ourselves that we're being practical or protecting ourselves, when maybe we're just afraid of what might happen if we really try.

And that's what keeps bringing me back to this lamp. My character loved her lamp. She appreciated how beautiful and unique it was, and she wanted to protect it. But in protecting it, she kept it from fulfilling the very purpose for which it had been created. I wonder how often we do that with our own gifts. We hold back because we're afraid of criticism, failure, disappointment, or even just the possibility that things won't turn out the way we hoped. And in doing so, we miss opportunities to grow, create, connect with people, and experience the joy that comes from actually using what we've been given.

I'm learning that just because things aren't working out the way I imagined doesn't mean I should give up. Sometimes I need to try another approach, take a suggestion, make an adjustment, or be willing to risk a little more than I have before. I don't know exactly how everything I'm working toward is going to turn out, but I do know that following this little prompting to try harder has helped pull me out of a rut. It's opened my mind to new opportunities, given me things to look forward to, and reminded me how much I love what I do.

Because ultimately, a lamp isn't much good tucked away on a shelf as something pretty for people to admire. It's better to let it get a little scratched, worn, and maybe even broken along the way if it means we're actually using it to light our path. After all, the whole point of having a lamp is to be ready when the Bridegroom comes. And I'd much rather have a lamp that shows signs of being used than one that has been perfectly preserved but never lit.