Falling to Survive

    So a small fact has been sprung upon me and confirmed by a second opinion - apparently, I can be a little bossy.  This certainly did come as a surprise to me, as I've thought myself to be a complete pushover for pretty much my entire life.  And with this little fact itching in my brain pretty much every day since, I decided to do some dwelling on memories past.  And this dwelling, of course, led me to a memory from Texas Bible Institute.  You would think that my experiences would begin to fade away after four years, but my long-term memory is not so easily shot.

    This specific memory is set in the school's main auditorium, Ambassador's Hall.  It's a Wednesday night service, and we have a "guest" speaker - our spiritual firecracker Deborah George.

    Now, a quick pause.  For everybody who's NOT familiar with the world of Charismatic Christianity (specifically, the Southern district), allow me to fill you in on who Deborah George is.
    Deborah George is an Evangelical minister.  Her main message is "saving souls", and her preaching is very emotion-targeted.  She's very vocal, very much full of energy, and very assertive.  She's no stranger to the "slaying of the Holy Spirit" technique that you see on any televangelist program (you know, when someone dramatically waves or bonks someone else on the head and causes the person to fall and twitch.)
    These tactics often result in an audience that becomes, for the most part, full of euphoria - they're riding an emotional high.
    Okay, now that you're caught up...

    Deborah George is doing her usual message, and the students are all riled up.  She asks everybody to come up to the front, and I somehow end up near the front of the crowd.  (Quick tip: if you are attending a Charismatic service, and you are NOT up for pastor-attendee interaction, you do your darnedest to stay near the back.)  She moves to one side of the crowd, and I realize what she's doing.
   Crap.  She's going to start smacking people out.  AND I'M INADVERTENTLY IN LINE.
    I'm now filled with conflict - do I try to make my way backwards (I'll look like a heathen), or do I take the hit and feel ashamed that I'm not falling like everyone else (crap, I'm STILL a heathen)?  As I weigh out my options, she's love-tapping her way down the line at the speed of Jesus.  SMACK-SMACK-SMACK...
    And now it's my turn.  Her hand grabs my forehead, and she yells out, "In the name of JESUS!"  And I decide at that moment - just fall.  So I close my eyes and drop like a sack of Jello.
    You could say that I was a pushover in more than one way.

    Instead of simply accepting that I just wasn't really into this emotional madness, I chose option 3: blend in.  I even muttered random words as I lay there to show authenticity.  And as I look back on it, I can't help but feel a little silly for not standing firm.  I could have, perhaps, shown someone that there's nothing wrong with staying on Earth while progressing in your spiritual journey.
    The excitement, tears, and "happy boosts"... they mean nothing in the great realm of things.  These symptoms can be found at any concert.  The speaking of tongues?  Glossolalia is found in countless religions and does not solely belong to the "spiritually baptized".

    Now I will share with you another story of Texas Bible Institute.  This story, however, has a different outcome.  This is the night that I decided to stop "falling".
    We're back in Ambassador's Hall for a little something called Prayer Culture.  We're getting ready for the upcoming summer camp (Red Alert), and the student staff is - surprise - emotionally amped up.  The auditorium's dark, some of the stage lights are flashing, and there's loud worship music going on.  In short, it's like a cross between a concert and a club.  Everyone's just walking around and praying for a CRAZY long time (I've run out of things to pray for about five minutes in... I'm very direct.)  Eventually, the music turns down a bit.  The head of this get-together, Pastor Peter Burchfield, begins to talk about being a leader.  We as staff are going to lead the campers with our testimonies, our example, etc.  Everyone who felt the call to lead that summer needed to get onstage and pray.
    At first, I'm just looking around.  It'll probably be the few usual suspects - the same ten or fifteen kids that have separated themselves as the best of the best.
    But more people begin hopping up on stage... and more, and then some more.  The main floor is emptying REALLY quickly.  So, in an unintentional nod to irony, I follow everyone else onto the stage.  Being one of the last, I end up on the left corner.
    Then a new request comes through the speaker next to me: each leader will pray with the microphone.  My eyes widen, my heartbeat increases, and OH MY GOD, I'M FREAKING OUT.  I silently panic as each person on the other side begin praying.  It's going to eventually hit me, and I'll have to attempt to be enthusiastic, coherent, and sincere.
    What if I embarrass myself?  What if I faint?  WHAT IF THEY CAN READ MY MIND?  (This was a real thought, and it was derived from a mix of lifelong paranoia and TBI's teachings on the Word of Wisdom.)
    And then I pause.  I ponder the situation that I'm in.  I'm on this stage of leadership because I was following everybody else.  I'm here because I don't want to stand out.  If this situation gets any more ironic, this hall will start attracting magnets.
    This is absolute crap.  Screw this, I'm gone.
    So I take advantage of my position - I turn and hop off the stage.

    And almost immediately afterwards, several others follow.

    In the end, a significant portion of us had gotten off the stage.  Did I lead them off?  Was it coincidence?  I don't know.  What I do know is that we each had some level of revelation - we aren't going to be leaders because someone tells us we have to be.  A pastor, teacher, manager, or even God cannot ultimately MAKE us leaders.  The only person who can decide that I'm a leader is me.  Perhaps I seem cowardly in this story... and I will admit that fear was a factor in my line of thinking.  But that line of thinking resulted in the realization that I have a choice.  I have free will.  If I'm going to do something, it's because I want to do it - and damn what everyone else thinks.

It's slow goings in this walk of independence.  I do still often stop and ask, "What will others think when I make this decision?"  But I'm still at least a few leaps further than I was 4-5 years ago.  And if a little bossiness has come from this, then I suppose it's not really a bad trait to have.