It's Actually Selfish to Feel Nervous Around Strangers

This article was originally published in Worship AVL Magazine, May–June 2025. It is republished here in full because it is linked to the Nobody Likes Networking Session 1 transcript and insight node, where the Rick Muchow story serves as the emotional anchor of the workshop series. This story is the evolution of the concept and I was finally able to resolve the chasm between knowing and doing that no framework, no system, and no workshop had ever been able to close. The answer was not more tools. It was a single reframe: the nervousness you feel around strangers is not self-protection. It is self-absorption. And the antidote is not courage. It is compassion. It was never about not feeling worthy enough to reach out. It was about not yet understanding that the person across the room might need you to.

The role of a technical director or engineer on a worship team is often a lonely one. There typically are not many other staff members who understand what you do. And as vital as your job is to bring a service to life, if you are doing it properly, it is the service and not you where everyone's attention is directed. As believers, we are called to be a community. Yet as techs we often neglect this aspect. Networking is vitally important — but it is a skill many shy away from. There really is no need.

Whenever anyone tells me they wish they could be better at networking — meeting and talking to new people without feeling nervous or anxious — I always tell them this story.

Through work, I had developed a deep and genuine love for Rick Muchow, the former worship leader for Saddleback Church. And I would like to believe the feeling was mutual. Our backgrounds and beliefs could not have been more divergent, but none of that ever mattered. Our friendship was based on respect and on so many overlapping interests.

When Rick first learned he had a terminal brain tumor, I could not wrap my head around it. One day he was playing guitar and he was fine. The next he was not. So there we were on his porch — talking about life and living and death and dying. And I asked Rick about his legacy. I asked him what he thought his greatest impact was. And without hesitation, without even the slightest pause, he said that he would be remembered for his ability to connect with people. His greatest strength was making people around him feel comfortable and helping them know that they belonged.

And then he shared the story that forever changed the trajectory of my life.

Once Saddleback found out that Rick was going to pass, they threw a massive benefit concert — inviting all of his friends throughout the years, everyone getting to play his music with him onstage and share their tributes. Once the show was over, a gentleman came up to Rick and thanked him so effusively. And Rick, always being the consummate host but also being unencumbered by social obligations, let the man finish and then said to him: your words are so kind and gracious but I apologize — for the life of me, I cannot remember when we have ever met before.

The man looked at Rick and said: you are right. We never actually truly met. But you were always there for me. I was in such a dark and sad place — I was so utterly alone — that I would come to church to hear you sing. Actually, I would come because I noticed that when you would run up to take the stage, you would place your arms on the shoulders of the people in the aisles and sometimes touch them on the back or even give them a hug. So I would get there early and grab a seat right up front. Because that was the only human contact — the only touch — that I would get that entire week.

Rick was the light for that man. And that story became a guiding light for me too. It reminded me that loneliness is the driver — that fundamental leveler that makes us all human.

Up until that point, whenever I spoke about networking, I talked about it in professional terms. Opening doors. Playing the favor game. I made a good living giving surface-level transactional versions of networking workshops and coaching sessions. But thanks to Rick, I knew I could be brave enough to talk about the things that actually mattered.

So I changed my approach completely. Instead of talking about networking, I started talking about welcoming and inviting — about how to have deeper and more meaningful relationships.

Because here is where this becomes so liberating.

If we understand that every human craves connection, then it becomes almost selfish to ever feel nervous or anxious again when it comes to talking with a stranger. Because you just never know. The person you are engaging with — a new or existing member of your tech team, a stranger at an industry event, someone sitting alone at a conference — might be needing your conversation and your compassion just as much as that man who sat in the front row waiting for Rick's touch.

Instead of going into each new interaction with trepidation, you get to be empowered knowing that you are spreading light and joy and that you are building bridges that are so desperately needed. When you take that first step and initiate any conversation, you are opening up an infinite world of potential and possibilities. And at the very least, you get to touch another soul in a meaningful, honest, and compassionate way.

I believe that authentic networking is doing God's work. And I certainly believe it is fulfilling Rick's unfinished business. When I think of it like that, I can comfortably walk into any room full of strangers and not feel alone or afraid. And I can go home that night knowing that I helped make the world a better place — filled with hope, love, and kindness — simply by being my best self.

To me, that is what networking represents.

And it is my deepest and most sincere hope that from now on, you too get to think about networking this way.

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(Thank you Rick! We all miss you terribly and you continue to lead and guide us.)

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