When I was seven, my mom took me to my first Broadway show. She was an avid theatre fan and started me young, taking me to local companies that put on shows for children and playing showtunes in the house.
But this was something totally different—a professional production in the best place on earth to see live theatre. And my mom’s choice of show couldn’t have been better: The Secret Garden.
We arrived at the St. James Theatre and found our seats in the mezzanine. I vividly remember the staging—the effortless scene transition from Mary’s journey over the moors to Mistlethwaite Manor, the dollhouse that dropped from the eaves and lit up to show what room each scene took place in, the transformation of the seemingly-dead garden into a thriving display of life.
But even so, at my age, I couldn’t fully appreciate what I was seeing. I sat in Sir Lawrence Olivier’s favorite Broadway theatre, watching the great Mandy Patinkin star as Uncle Archibald. That knowledge came when I was older, but in the moment, I was captivated by the show. When we stepped out into the New York sunlight, we went to the stage door, where I met Daisy Eagan and Alison Fraser, who played Mary and Martha.
In elementary school, my mom and I continued to go to the theatre, seeing The Phantom of the Opera in Toronto with Colm Wilkinson, The Wizard of Oz, My Fair Lady, Fiddler on the Roof, and of course, an ill-fated trip to see Cats, when we discovered there was a Broadway show we actually didn’t like.
You would think that my love of theatre would have inspired me to act myself. But this desire didn’t take root until seventh grade, when a friend encouraged me to try out for the school play. Surprisingly, I landed one of the leads. I was shy, having been bullied in elementary school, but acting tapped into a sense of confidence I didn’t know I had.
This all changed in high school. High school theatre was competitive, and I was cast in fewer shows. Yet, the drama director was one of my favorite teachers, which made it difficult to be embittered. I loved her classes, which undeniably helped me grow as a writer and public speaker, even as my heart sank at the rejection. Nonetheless, I still didn’t understand why something that had brought out that hidden part of myself was being taken away.
But I understand now.
In His sovereign love, the Lord was at work, even though I had not yet accepted His Son’s atoning sacrifice for my sins. For one thing, He was protecting me. I struggled with severe depression and was collapsing under the weight of impossibly high academic standards. He knew that being in a play wouldn’t be lifegiving the way it’s supposed to be—it would deplete what little energy I had.
More importantly, He was redirecting my desires toward what He wanted for me, gradually showing that no matter how badly I thought I wanted to act, He had something even better in mind. It’s likely that I wouldn’t have cultivated my love of writing to the degree I needed to had I been memorizing lines and spending every day after school at rehearsal.
(Above: In Up the Down Staircase as the nightmarishly anal retentive administrative assistant)
I was last onstage for my senior class play—more than 20 years ago. During college, I stage managed for a community theatre as a summer job.
Since then, though, I’ve played a different sort of role: I am a dedicated audience member.
After all, someone has to watch the show.
Being an audience member isn’t a passive activity. It requires attention, focus, and analytical thought. The performers and production staff have prepared an experience for us, and it is my privilege not just to enjoy what they’ve created but to distill it into a new understanding of the world God made, imperfect as it is due to sin.
My mom and I are season ticket holders at Playhouse Square in Cleveland, one of the most renowned locations for live theatre in the country. This is a wonderful act of God’s providence: I’ve been placed in a location where I can enjoy multiple award-winning Broadway shows performed by touring companies.
An added blessing is that I get to see many shows that I otherwise might not have chosen to attend, and often, I’m surprised by how enriching the experience is.
For example, I had historically low expectations for Beetlejuice: The Musical, but after just a few minutes, it won me over. The show is delightfully unhinged and hilarious, but I didn’t expect to experience the gut punch of its exploration of grief and the fear and denial it frequently produces. It took a cult classic movie that has never been one of my favorites and transformed it into a beautiful story of our potential to pursue love and life despite deep pain.
I didn’t expect to cry at Beetlejuice, but I was sobbing by the curtain call.
Our area is a hotbed of great community theatres, and sometimes, I consider trying out for a play just for the fun of it. But even now, I know that isn’t what God has for me. I am a storyteller, and for someone like me whose primary medium is words on a page, there is great education to be found through storytellers whose primary medium is their bodies.
I am not just at the theatre to be entertained. I’m there to learn from their craft and be impacted by what they have to share. No matter the show, I’m ready to play my role and committed to playing it well.
After all, I’ve had a lifetime of training.
Let’s talk theatre, gang. Are you a fan? Do you have a favorite cast recording? Have you ever been involved with a play as an actor or crew member? Please share your story below!
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