Peer Pressure - or "I'm looking for cracks in the pavement..."-Simon Le Bon (Duran Duran)

Relax, folks, this one's not political. Well, so far as the most common definition is concerned, it's not.
Have you ever found yourself walking across a parking lot, through a supermarket, or even on a sidewalk (do people still walk on sidewalks?) and you suddenly realize you've been adjusting your stride so as to avoid stepping on a crack, or line, in the pavement/floor/concrete/surface material stuff? I'll bet you didn't really give it a second thought. Maybe you did, but you just kinda giggled to yourself, thought "How silly!" and kept on strollin'.
While walking through a customer's warehouse yesterday I caught myself doing this. I stopped for a moment to consider why I was doing this. "Step on a crack, break your mother's back!" began running through my head. Wow! I haven't actually HEARD anybody say that since, maybe, third grade. Of course, even then I didn't believe the voodoo behind the chant. I just played along so I didn't have to listen to 12 other kids go "Ooooo, you stepped on a crack!" I simply modified my behavior so as not to buck the status quo.
So, why am I still doing it? I guess that's the power of suggestion. Peer pressure squeezed me into a new habit, and my behavior has been altered for life. Sure, I could go through great pains to introduce a NEW habit, but it's really not worth the effort in this instance. I guess I will forever be subconciously avoiding cracks in the pavement.
"So, what are you getting at, Phil?"
I'll ask you another question. Have you ever felt like standing up and shouting "hallellujah!" or "amen!" during Sunday morning worship or during a particularly on-point sermon, but didn't? I have. Why didn't I? I was avoiding the proverbial crack on the floor. I've been conditioned to keep my emotions in check so as not to disrupt the services. Peer pressure rises up and smacks me down.
I can't tell you how many times I've been up on the stage, strumming away to a great hymn or praise song like "Blessed Be Your Name," and wanted to just start jumping up and down and singing at the top of my lungs! That song has such profound lyrical content that it makes me almost forgive Matt Redman for singing it in that annoying British accent! I'm singing along to his live recording of it now. Love it. I'm so free to dance like a fool in the privacy of my music room at home with an audience of God and my 3 yr. old daughter (she's singing, too! COOL!). Why can't I let go of that self-consciousness in public? Why am I so reserved? Have I really put that tight of a cap on my emotional expression? It's tough to retrain habits that are so well established.
Imagine, tomorrow morning I'm strumming along and the Spirit moves on my heart. I decide not to push it back down any longer. I smile, close my eyes, and begin spinning in circles on one foot. Down goes my mic stand. Matt catches the headstock of my guitar in his right temple. The chior scatters like cockroaches as I flip backwards over the modesty wall. OK, maybe baby steps are the way to go!
I don't expect the world to change to accommodate me. I don't expect the congregation to, all of a sudden, switch gear into "charismatic" mode so I'll feel better about wanting to show outward expressions of joy and worship. Given the two extremes I've witnessed, I'll take orderly stoicism over disorderly charisma any day. It's just sad to me that this reservedness has taken such a strong hold of me.
What's the answer? I really don't know. Humility before God is always the beginning of worship for me. Maybe that should be my foremost focus. "Walk humbly with your God." If I'm truly worshipping Him, He'll open the floodgates of joy that will shine through in all things. Maybe I should be more concerned with DAILY worship. Maybe we ALL should. Can you imagine what Sunday mornings would look like if we'd all been TRULY worshipping God all week? Can't wait!