“Hitting the Notes”

In the spirit of vulnerability—I like to watch American Idol. When it comes to reality shows it's the only one I consistently follow. I'm not sure why. Sure, I enjoy music and watching someone's dream come true. And though I occasionally daydream about a spin-off called Unhip Middle-aged Man—The True American Idol, I really don't think I'm vicariously living out any unfulfilled dream.

I do enjoy studying people and that's probably how my interest in this show is sustained. For the pop culturally illiterate among us (aren't you blessed?) the first few weeks of the show focus on the city-to-city search auditioning thousands of singers to find a few who will hear the words “Congratulations! You're going to Hollywood!” The remainder of the show spotlights the highly talented contestants who surface to the top. And though it's fun to watch that final show where the next American Idol is crowned, I must admit my fascination lies mainly in those opening auditions where the “good, bad, and ugly” give it a shot.

Not being privy to the producers' tricks of the trade that attract viewers (and high ratings), I suspect along with the rest of America, that these opening audition rounds are loaded with ringers, impostors, publicity hounds, and thrill-seekers. Of all the personality types that psychologists could identify from the performers, I am particularly intrigued by two types: the highly gifted singer whose confidence is based on pure talent and the less than talented singer who honestly believes he/she commands a great voice. Some, not all, of the exceptional singers carry a graceful humility because they know they are exceptional. That's refreshing. On the other end of the talent spectrum, it's painful to see a less than talented young person get hit by the reality train when the judges pull into the station. I sit there in front of the TV asking my wife (who quit trying to answer rhetorical questions after the first season) “Does he know how bad he sounds?” “She can't hit a note, why does America know that and she doesn't?” “Who told him he could sing?” Listening to a singer with a high level of self-esteem and confidence bellow off-key is a bit disconcerting to me.

Facing reality can be excruciatingly painful (I don't even like writing about the subject) and immensely liberating (the Truth/Jesus will set me free). Institutionally, as well as personally, it is critical to close our eyes, listen, and see if we are hitting the notes. At SRCS we have started a long-term project to evaluate our curriculum with the purpose of determining what our students are actually being taught, not what our curriculum guide says we are teaching. The process will be painful at times, but the faculty has jumped on board and we are excited about the eventual outcome.

And personally, as a husband, father, friend, educator, etc., I wonder how I “sound” to others. For myself, and I would think for most believers, we live in some awkward place between Christ in you, the hope of glory, and wretched man that I am—two non-contradicting truths that represent God's dynamic design for the Spirit-filled life. King David is a great study in this tension. He was in total unreality at times regarding his propensity to moral failure, yet in confrontation, found brokenness, repentance, and his God—Behold, You desire truth in the inward parts, and in the hidden parts You will make me to know wisdom.

Apostle Paul knew the tension as well. For through the grace given to me I say to everyone among you not to think more highly of himself than he ought to think; but to think so as to have sound judgment, as God has allotted to each a measure of faith. The more realistic we become about ourselves and the world we live in—that allotted measure of faith produces life and hope.