Why we should PRAY for our favorite celebrities

I remember the day I read on Facebook that Chester Bennington, the lead vocalist of Linkin Park, had committed suicide. It was July 20, 2017, to be exact, so just over a year ago. This was the first celebrity death that made me feel sad, as if somebody I knew personally had died. So many of my peers deeply related with the music Chester created with Linkin Park, and so many of us shared the same struggles that led him to take his own life. Many Linkin Park songs ended on a positive note, so it was easy to believe that whatever problem Chester sang about was in his past, not the present.

We were wrong.

As a believer, there’s a sense of guilt that comes when a favorite celebrity dies of a preventable cause. Even if there was no way we could have known about this person’s problems, we still think if only….

I once saw a video a man had made in appreciation for his grandmother, who had recently passed away. I don’t remember the names of the grandson or the grandmother, nor do I remember where I had watched the video, but I remember one thing the grandson said: “Until the day she died, my grandmother prayed for Frank Sinatra’s salvation.”

I thought that was so endearing, the image of this sweet old lady sitting at her table early in the morning, reading the Word and praying for her loved ones, and as she reaches the end of her prayers, she says, “And Father, I ask that you please save Frank Sinatra. He is my favorite singer, and I want to hear Him sing your praises for eternity.” This woman didn’t just enjoy Sinatra’s music–she was concerned for him as a human being with a soul.

This kind of thinking is lost on our society. We worship the artist, not the Creator who made the artist and gave them their gifts. As we worship the artist, we become voracious consumers, asking them to give us more. More new music. More new movies. More social media posts to pore over with our friends. We want to know everything about them–but we wouldn’t care to actually know them, not as the real living, breathing, normal human beings that they are. We turn them into caricatures and icons, and in turn, many artists embrace the reality that they are an image, not an actual person. They become a brand to be sold and manipulated and exploited at the will of the powerful people around them, who fund their “art” and pull their strings behind-the-scenes. Threats are made. Money becomes a god. The thought of becoming an irrelevant “nobody” seems like a fate worse than death. The pressure to always put forth this carefully cultivated image takes its toll. Soon the artist, who has few, if any, friends they can confide in, turns to other things to cope with the overwhelming emotions that accompany this life they’ve chosen. This is not what they wanted when they started out. Many only wanted to simply make art. That good intention quickly became corrupted by fame–and a desire for more of it. The artist became a celebrity.

Then one day, when we least expect it, we open Facebook and find that the top article is about the death of our favorite celebrity. We didn’t see it coming. We write a post about how that person’s art affected our lives. We post on Twitter with a sheepish #RIP next to their name. We join a Facebook group to collectively mourn with other fans and share our favorite works and moments from that celebrity’s life. The news cycle takes full advantage of this death, knowing that channel surfers will tune in once they hear “and later, we discuss the tragic death of celebrity so-and-so and the legacy they left behind.” If the circumstances surrounding the death are somewhat ambiguous, we can trust that the media will milk this death for all its worth–at least for about a month or so. Then eventually we all move on, only to repeat the same process when the next celebrity dies.  

This is unacceptable.

As believers in Messiah, I believe we have the unique responsibility, or at least the unique opportunity and privilege, to intercede for the celebrities we care about. It is not enough to consume their art–we should care about their souls as well. Beneath the beautiful facade is a soul that’s longing to be set free. Perhaps there is a private struggle that has been hidden for years. Even if it’s out in the open, have we ever cared either way? Why do we only care about what these artists can give us?

Don’t wait until it’s too late. Don’t wait until you read that article about the accident, the overdose, or the suicide that has taken this person’s life. This is not just about salvation–I want to see these people experience the abundant life that Messiah offers to those who live for Him. I want to see them live in freedom from anything that keeps them in bondage, whether it’s an addiction, an eating disorder, or a bad relationship. If you don’t want to see your favorite celebrity struggle with loneliness, addiction, and self-loathing, and if you want to see them spending a joyful eternity with the Lord, then pray for them. I challenge you to do it the next time you see that person’s name pop up on your newsfeed.

“I am the door. If anyone enters by Me, he will be saved, and will go in and out and find pasture. The thief does not come except to steal, and to kill, and to destroy. I have come that they may have life, and that they may have it more abundantly.” (John 10:9-10)

~Nikita 💛

The Myth of Liquid Courage

It was a Sunday afternoon. My mom, my sister, and I were the only ones on the dancefloor.

“I told you no one dances at christenings!” I yelled to my mom.

She shrugged. “I guess you were right!”

We continued shimmying, clapping, and side-stepping through whatever song the DJ played for us. Nothing he played would bring the plethora of seated spectators to the floor. He tried “Let’s Get Loud.” He tried “Uptown Funk.” He tried some Italian club songs I’d never heard. When the DJ handed us flashing maracas that glowed different colors, even the gimmick wasn’t enticing enough.

A good portion of the guests were under the age of 40. We had seen them dance at the hosts’ wedding two years ago, so we knew they weren’t wallflowers with two left feet. We approached a few tables and beckoned people to join us. They laughed nervously and shook their heads. Then we approached one of our cousins, but she indicated that she needed a drink.

Ah. Liquid courage.

I remembered a college reunion event I attended a few years ago. I was the first person to sing karaoke that night, after waiting an hour and a half for anyone else to go first. Afterwards I ran onto the sparse dancefloor to join the other brave folks who weren’t professional dancers. An acquaintance of mine chatted with me later, and his breath stunk from whatever he drank. He hadn’t danced at all the whole night.  

Before the event began, I asked several people if they were going to sing at the karaoke mic or boogie down to the music. People laughed and replied “maybe after I’ve had a few drinks.” I thought it was kind of sad that people were going to withhold the joy of singing and dancing from themselves because they needed to wait for some substance to kick in. I didn’t have that luxury–I’m one of those few medicated souls who actually follows the warning label from the pharmacy. Aside from that, I had other reasons for not drinking, but that’s a post for another time. Here’s why I think so-called “liquid courage” is malarkey.

Think back to when you were a kid and you had to play a little league championship game, or sing the national anthem in front of the entire school, or give an end of the year class presentation. Think back to the first time you jumped off a diving board or rode on a roller coaster. You couldn’t rely on liquid courage back then. You had to do it afraid. Do you remember what happened afterward? The reward. The biggest adrenaline rush you’ve ever experienced in your life. That feeling of accomplishment as you emerged from the pool or took your bow or held up the trophy. When was the last time you felt that? I think that with liquid courage, you’re cheating yourself. You’re robbing yourself of a certain kind of happiness–the kind you have when you push through the awkwardness and fear and realize that everything is going to be okay. When you find your wacky dance moves are liberating. When your karaoke singing inspires others to walk up to the mic and give it a try.

You don’t need alcohol to be brave. Be fully present in the crazy moments. Experience every feeling associated with whatever nerve-wracking thing you’re doing. You will want to remember it when it’s over. For the love of all things bright and beautiful, I dare you to do it afraid. Next time you feel the need to reach for liquid courage, challenge yourself to push through your feelings and see what you accomplish. As somebody who doesn’t get to use liquid courage, I can assure you that it is rewarding to do the scary stuff without it, and you do build reference points that you can use later on in life (i.e. “If I did that, then I can do this”).

How do I do it, then, when I can’t drink? I can’t rely on myself. When I feel afraid, I pray. I pray knowing that God is bigger than whatever thing I’m facing. Bigger than my anxiety. More vast than a million stage performances, job interviews, or college exams. The God who gave Joshua the courage to lead the Israelites across the Jordan, Gideon the courage to defeat the Midianites, and Paul the courage to preach the Gospel even when he faced persecution–that same God will give me the courage to ride the Thunderbolt and introduce myself to strangers at an event.

Greater is He who is living in me than he who is living in the world.*

~Nikita

PS This post is not meant to demonize alcohol at all. I’ll explore that topic in another entry, hopefully very soon. Much love. 💛

 

Wanting to Draw Near

She stood next to me during worship, and her beautiful voice sang softly as the song ended and we shifted to spontaneous praise.

 

“I love you, Lord…”

 

I felt a pang in my heart as I listened. Her words were so sweet and pure, like she was whispering into the Savior’s ear.  

I wish I loved God like that, I thought. When worship was over, we went downstairs to eat snacks and desserts. She sat across from me and my mom and candidly shared her testimony. She had been a believer for about 5 years. She was a single mom. Her ex was a horrible man. Even as she spoke of what she endured, there was a calm happiness in her voice. She came a long way from where she was.

I’ve been following the Lord for longer than her. How come I don’t love Him more like she does?

I remembered another sister in the Lord from a different church. I had visited her church a few times, and whenever she testified, prayed, or conversed with people, there was this radiant love pouring out from her. Even when she wasn’t talking about God, the evidence of her love for Him sprinkled her voice and her demeanor. She regarded each person she came across with love and respect. She had a dark past, but she was redeemed from it and had purposed in her heart to never go back to where she was before. She was secure in her walk and her identity was firmly rooted in who God said she was.

I looked at her and thought, I wish I had a relationship with God like that.

Then I finally realized…I can! I can be closer to God, all I need to do is draw near. God is no respecter of persons, so He doesn’t “play favorites” with us. All of us have the potential to have a deep, intimate relationship with the Lord. As I read once in a devotional, “you can have as much of God as you want.”

Ah, but that’s the catch. You can have as much of God as you want. Many of us who are saved are still content to just keep God at arm’s length. Because the closer I get, the more my life may change. I may start to perceive the world differently. I may have to give something up, or I may have to do something outside my comfort zone, or I may have to show God’s love to someone I don’t like. I might even get attacked.

But those fears, while valid, are not worth entertaining. One thing I’ve learned in my own walk with God is that we don’t go from point A to point Z in a day–at least, that’s not the usual case. For example, over a year ago I started to spend more time with God, reading His Word and praying. As I grew closer to Him, some of the toxic media that I used to like didn’t interest me anymore. I stopped listening to certain singers and got rid of certain books. It didn’t feel like a big loss to me–God had changed my perspective, and I started to see the world through a different lens. 

The choice is always mine–God isn’t going to force me to do anything for Him. The same way I can draw near, I can also pull back–but when I’m not seeking God, I can feel the difference. I’ve realized how much He completes me, how He supplies the joy and strength that I lack, how He gets me through the day. When I don’t nourish my spirit, I become spiritually “hangry.” In fact, I’ve been spiritually hangry for the past week. I’ve been battling lots of questions but haven’t been actively seeking any answers. So I’m going to spend some time with God after I post this.

We can all be close to God. Don’t be afraid to draw near.

 

~Nikita