By Scott Box
I produce music in a backyard studio. I have some skills, but professional music producers blow me away with their final products. Nevertheless, when a musician or singer goes into the studio to record, I’ve learned that an artist cannot hide from the microphone. They are exposed by a device that captures every saliva-sloshing click of the tongue, note sung out of tune or pick of the wrong string. And yet, the artists keep coming back. The urge to create and express themselves through a new (or even old) lyric or a melody is hard for many to resist.
My work in the studio has revealed an important concept that applies to our mental health storytelling adventures.
Studio work and music production expose the performers in a way they become “naked” and highly vulnerable. The process is humbling—even the most talented people in the world splat terrible notes in a recording session. There are many talented studio musicians in every city, but few one-take wonders exist, especially when the music gets technical. Writing and producing music is a process that takes varying degrees of refinement for every song. It takes dedicated practice. But it’s also fun, which is why this exercise in music production is a discipline that keeps many people coming back for more. Shaping the lyric to a melody or a melody to a lyric, finding the right voices or instruments and arranging the song into its final shape is intoxicating, but not for the faint of heart. It is very taxing. Additional burdens include the mixing, mastering, distribution, marketing, live performances, and critical response. It’s all baked into the cake. The revelations of the recording process and the recorded product can make inexperienced and even experienced people feel unworthy of the burden and cause paralysis.
Your mental health story is of exceptional value to the people in your community. Your story is not something you can selfishly keep to yourself. People suffer needlessly because so many “broken” people like you and me don’t get “naked” in front of them. Hang with me on this, please. We think the microphone is going to reveal things that are humiliating and painful. Yep, it does. We believe we should have everything perfect before we risk sharing it with others, but we don’t need to be perfect. Yes, we will need thick skin, which comes with the calluses of practice.
Remember, in this example, a singer gets better by singing into a mic and listening to their tone, pitch, and delivery. Doing it over and over is called “practice” for a reason. Nowadays, there are many cheap ways for singers to practice recording their voices. In the same way, there are more opportunities than ever to practice identifying and shaping our mental health stories. I don’t use social media much in this season of life, but I used to. Social media is a good outlet for starting and maintaining a health journal. Is it risky? Sure is. Is it a great way to practice inviting people into your adventure? Of course. Is there a way you can host people who are sick and desperate toward Jesus and toward hopefulness? Uh-huh. Is social media the right venue for your story? Maybe not. But I encourage you to find a place to start practicing your storytelling skills—even if it’s only in a private journal you write a couple sentences in for the next three months. Because sharing your story doesn’t help only other people. It helps you, too. Inviting others into your story can give deep meaning to YOUR pain and remind YOU of God’s promises, His wild provision and His purpose for YOU.
Like a musician working on a new song in a studio, shaping my story and inviting others into it has become hard to resist because of how impactful it is to others AND for me. I know other people benefit when I practice sharing my gritty stories about managing Bipolar disorder and following Jesus. But I never realized how beneficial the experience would be for me. Pain has helped me write powerful songs. But my pain and your pain can also release extraordinary stories about the challenges of managing mental disorders or living with people who wrestle with their mental health. The world needs our painful and gritty stories to tell heroic stories about Jesus. You may feel very exposed and vulnerable, but your story matters and can keep someone from suffering. But you have to take the risk to approach the mic.
Yes, be calculated. Don’t be thoughtless with who you grab to help you practice. Look for a friend who can be a story “producer” for you. Tell them that you’re reaching for the microphone and that you’re going to start practicing. You’ll feel exposed, but that’s the point.
So there you go—My advice for this month is to “get naked.”
Scott and Kariann Box live in Redmond, Oregon. Scott serves as Pastor of Development at Shiloh Ranch Church and has been a worship leader for over twenty-five years. Kariann works as a Realtor in Central Oregon and supports Scott’s…creative spirit. They have two children, a one-hundred-pound Labradoodle and a four-pound Shih Tzu without teeth. Scott is the author of HEROIC DISGRACE: Order out of chaos. Hope out of fear. ― A Worship Hero Story
