The Dove Awards are hard to explain. You arrive with a ticket that says $200 on it and you think, “Really? That much?”  And then lots of people are really dressed up and you begin seeing faces that you usually only see on cd covers. Everybody is a little tense and full of expectation about what is going to happen. I have no idea if it’s anything at all like other award shows because I have never been. I just know that it all feels a little crazy and weird.

There’s no printed “order” for the awards to be given out. So if you are in one of the “pre-telecast” categories, you get there by 4:30 and then wait. If you’re nominated, you’re sitting with a bunch of other nominees... usually with people nominated from your company or in your category. Much of the time, you are friends with most of them, but then there’s always that moment when you meet someone whose name you’ve only read on a cd tray card or in a folio of songs. Sometimes they actually know your name and act like they are happy to meet you too. Like I said, it is crazy.

I wish I could really articulate what it is like to win. It’s fun and gratifying, of course. But it’s also a reality check. You look at the other nominees in your category and you know for sure that the award doesn’t mean you are a better writer than they are or even that you wrote a better song. Most of the time its a strange convergence of song, artist, timing, and industry conditions. So it’s humbling and you feel really, really grateful... but then no more grateful than you feel every single day to be doing something that so many people dream of doing. Then to get an award for it... it’s so cool.

You pray your legs will work and that you heard right and aren’t headed for the stage when you actually didn’t win after all... now THAT would be embarrassing. And suddenly you think, “Maybe I should’ve planned some kind of acceptance speech! Oh dear.” You pray you won’t fall going up the steps. You pray you can find the steps. And then they hand you a Dove and you’re saying something and it’s all kind of an out-of-body experience.

You go backstage and suddenly there’s someone taking back the Dove they’ve given you... because after all, it is just a sample they give out over and over during the whole show. Someone leads you back to the table where the real Doves are sitting and you have to sign your name and phone number to get yours. A receipt of sorts. If you are me, your hand shakes because you are still excited and nervous, and so your signature looks like a crazy person signed for you. That’s embarrassing.

Then you are led to a little stage where several photographers take your picture... another out-of-body moment. If you are an artist, you go to the press room where you answer questions. If you are not, you are led around backstage past dozens and dozens of people who are milling around back there (and eating at a big spread of snacks and drinks), until you finally get back to the door to the auditorium. You circle around and finally, finally get back to your seat carrying your Dove. Everyone hugs you and says “Congratulations!”

You sit your Dove at your feet, take a deep breath, and life goes on.

You’re thrilled when your friends win. Thrilled when their names are read or their picture flashes across the screen. Disappointed when they don’t win, especially when you have this feeling that they really deserved it so much more than you did.

That’s pretty much the evening in a nutshell. It IS cool to be able to put Dove-winning songwriter juxtaposed with your name.

Then a few days later, you read about how a friend ministered to a group of people and 40 people gave their hearts to Jesus and a similar number rededicated their life to the Lord. And just like that, God reminds you what’s important and what’s comparatively meaningless. And you pray you never forget.