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Another convicting article

Here’s another interesting article. And here are my pull-out points.

– Worship is often no more than the opening act to the sermon and getting people “pumped up.” I talked about that in this blog.

– I am ashamed to say how many times I’ve “not been into” the song I was leading. It scares me how easy it is to fake it. As long as you look sincere, nobody knows how unenthusiastic you really are.

– The “I love peanut butter” line had me laughing. It’s so true. End something a cappella and sing it a bunch, and it just sounds worshipful. Sometimes we don’t really put much thought into what we’re singing.

– “If I suck as a singer people will complain that worship wasn’t ‘good’.  If it’s ‘too good’ then people will say I am ‘putting on [a] show’.  I try to keep it somewhere in the ‘safe zone’.” Very true. I’m totally guilty of judging worship leaders on musical ability or lack thereof.

– Sometimes worship gets boring for the worship leader because we end up always doing the crowd favorites. There have been several songs that I have sworn off because they have been sung into the ground. New, fresh songs are a good thing, people.

– “I don’t listen to ‘worship music’ unless I’m looking for a new song for Sunday.” Or in my case, I don’t listen to it at all anymore. I’m working on finding sacredness and worship in other music that still speaks to me.

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Insecure

I am insecure. From the time I was little, I have been shy, introverted, and worried that I am just not good enough. It’s a problem I’ve recently been able to embrace head on and slowly tackle to the ground, escaping it’s tight clenches. On good days, I shake it off and emerge a seemingly well adjusted adult.

But on my bad days, it rears it’s ugly head and I am once again that insecure, gangly teenager with braces and bad acne. On really bad days it’s hard to know how to beat it and rise to the surface of contentedness again.

Because I am insecure, I like attention and affirmation. I like to know that what I have to say is worthwhile. I leave comments on blogs just to see if people will think it’s smart, funny, or thought provoking. Some of my facebook statuses are simply for attention; to see how many comments or “likes” I get.

I just had the awkward realization recently that I use worship for attention sometimes. It’s like I need to make sure that God is paying attention to me; that He knows I’m still here and He hasn’t forgotten me. Sometimes I feel like a little kid who is tugging at dad’s coattail to show off the neat trick I just learned.

I know that God wants to fill me up and meet my every need. That includes my need for love, affirmation, and attention. He is eagerly waiting for me to let Him fill me. This is part of faith.

But this is not what worship is. Worship is about Him and paying attention to Him. It’s not about the attention I feel I need. It’s about the adoration He is so worthy of. Forget about the warm fuzzies and instead focus on the Holy One who has done so much for me already.

Perhaps if I could just pull myself out of my simplistic struggles and just give Him the attention He deserves, I might find that my cup is filled too. And the overflow helps flood away the insecurity.

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Worship pet peeves

Lights dim, an energetic drum beat begins, and the congregation is on their feet. I’m starting to feel the music, let go of my week, and worship.

Then out of nowhere I am ripped out of my reverie.

“LET’S ALL PUT OUR HANDS TOGETHER! WE LOVE YOU, JESUS!”

Y’know what drives me crazy during worship? Too much instruction. I hate being told to put my hands together or raise my hands in the air. In fact, if you tell me to do any of those things, I’m likely to be stubborn and stuff my hands in my pockets. I’ll show you…

In all seriousness, I really don’t want to be told how to worship. I just want an atmosphere created that will allow me to worship. Get us started, then step back and let the Holy Spirit work. Let the music (or rather the Spirit) move me, not the words of your mouth. If you want to clap because the song is upbeat and energetic, then by all means, clap. I might even join in. If you feel the Spirit moving and want to raise your hands, go right ahead. Just don’t tell me to. Raising hands is not a way I worship. I’m not any less of a Christian because of it. Now I just look like a rebellious heathen because I’m the only one with their hands not raised to the heavens.

I was reading Stuff Christians Like recently; about raising your hands in worship. I was chuckling my way through the post and comments. I ran across a comment from a worship leader that stated that she was one of “those” worship leaders who rarely talked.

Another commenter posted this in response to her comment:

“Rarely talking is great! I am there to be in communion with God, not me and God and the worship leader. Ours thinks he is contributing when he is really interfering. His heart is in the right place but Jesus is our priest, we don’t need anyone else to lead us to His presence. I prefer a Music Director, The Spirit is the worship leader.”

I remember years ago, first starting out as a worship leader. I was young, naive, and impressionable. I took my lead from other worship leaders and did what I saw them do. I felt like I was supposed to spout out worship directions; or at the very least, some thoughtful, holy words, such as, “We love You, Jesus… we worship You, Jesus…” But anytime I tried, it felt forced; unnatural.

A dear friend of mine and fellow worship leader introduced me to the “strong, silent” type of worship leader. During the music, she didn’t say anything. Not one word. She would invite the congregation to stand and join in worship, and that was it. Then she merely played the music and sang. No instructions, no holier than thou words. Just the music. She led the congregation by example.

At first, this felt a bit weird. There are awkward instrumental parts where it felt like there needed to be some filler. I got so used to being told what to do, and now there was silence. It was uncomfortable. Soon, I realized I was being given freedom to worship as I wanted to.

This is the kind of worship leader I evolved into. It’s not my style to shout instructions. I merely introduce the song, sing it as simply as I can (I try very hard to control any vocal aerobics that emerge from my vocal cords), and let the congregation worship as they desire.

It just seems more natural that way.

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Musical zombies

I shared a couple songs from Gungor on a previous blog. I recently rediscovered this blog from Michael Gungor, the band’s lead singer. I read it several months ago and loved it, and loved it again upon re-reading it. It’s a long post, but well worth the read if you have the time.

Here are the points that struck me the most.

  1. I laughed out loud when I read about his “Christian vs secular” game. I laughed because it’s so funny and because I’ve played this myself. I can usually spot a Christian radio station from a mile away. As he pointed out, on a whole, Christian music is very disingenuous. It does have a certain sound to it, and the best word I can think of to describe it is fake.
  2. Christian music is riddled with false emotion. “…I don’t believe that the singer is feeling the kind of emotions in singing that lyric that would lead to that style of singing.” The song style and emotion of the song don’t always match up.
  3. Christian music has created musical zombies. “So when you remove the soul from music and transplant the body parts (chord changes, instrumentation, dress, lights, and everything but the soul…) and parade it around with some more ‘positive’ lyrics posing as Christian music, then what you have is a musical zombie.”
  4. Christian music is all about marketing. Naive little me would like to stay in denial about this, but I’m coming to grips with this sad fact. Someone left a comment on this blog stating this exact fact. Even my own mom commented on here that she was suspicious of the “Christian” musicians I began listening to in high school.
  5. Christianity doesn’t seem to be real Christianity anymore. It’s become the product of a subculture. We’ve been told to believe and not question things from this subculture; alcohol is bad, etc.

I know that there are still some Christian musicians out there that are in it for the right reasons, but they seem to be harder to come by lately. I long for Christian musicians that are really striving to serve God with their music, and to push the musical envelope and not succumb to the contemporary christian formula.

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Kids in worship

This post might get me into a little trouble.

I shared this blog before and how I so agreed with it. Except for one thing. The whole fussy kid thing.

I actually applaud a church that won’t hesitate to ask disruptive children to leave.

Don’t get me wrong; I love kids, but I also love being able to go to church and listen to the sermon without distraction. It seems like parents with really rowdy kids always seem to pick the seat next to or behind me.

Let me share a story.

In one church I attended, there were a couple of comfy couches in the back. One morning my husband and I noticed they were open, so we grabbed one. A few minutes later, two very rowdy little boys sat on the other couch next to us. I’m not talking whispering or fidgeting… I’m talking throwing pillows at each other and screaming into cushions and laughing loudly and running in circles. Then I realized mom and dad were sitting about four rows in front of them. NOT COOL. We ended up getting up and moving to the overflow room. It was that bad. I left church that day (Easter no less) feeling angry and frustrated. I wished that there had been some church bouncer that would have made the kids (and parents) move to the overflow room rather than my husband and I having to. I honestly remember nothing else from that service.

This is why I applaud a church that will escort rowdy children out. It’s hard to worship and be “all there” when all I can think about (or hear) is some loud child near me. Especially when they should know better.

Before you judge me, a childless woman of almost 33, please don’t. I have “mothered” much over the years. Call me a “mother of the heart.” I spent three years working with the African Children’s Choir and learned much about parenting, discipline, and the capability of children to behave. Don’t let them fool you. They are capable of much more than you might think.

It’s not that I want to deny kids the chance to worship, but for most of them (especially if they’re only three or four), it’s unfair to ask them to sit through something that’s way out of their attention span. In a church I used to attend, children sat with parents for the worship time, and then went to the front for a brief children’s sermon. After that, they left the sanctuary to go to a more kid’s oriented church time. It was the best of both worlds. They got to be with Mom and Dad for worship time, and I didn’t have to sit gritting my teeth while rowdy children kicked the back of my chair throughout the sermon.

I understand some families want to worship together, and for some, that includes the sermon. Fine. If that’s the case, teach your child to sit still. Sure, there are some extreme cases, like the boy in the blog that has cerebral palsy, but for the most part, children are completely capable of sitting still and being quiet. I think most parents don’t hold their kids to a high enough standard.

It makes me angry when parents think their kid’s “aren’t that bad,” or let their babies cry for minutes on end without making a move to exit the sanctuary. Just because you’ve grown immune to the sound of the cry does not mean the other 200 people in the building have too. Please be considerate of those around you.

While we’re on the subject, this is my favorite video involving kids in worship.

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What I couldn’t figure out on my own

Throughout this worship struggle, and really all of life, sometimes I find myself struggling with problems I just cannot voice. Things bugging me that I cannot quite pinpoint. I love when I find an article, video, or even song that puts my unvoiced thoughts into perfect words.

This blog was one of those times.

I think the part that I especially connected with was this:

… When the gospel story is accompanied by a fog machine and light show, I always get this creeped-out feeling like someone’s trying to sell me something. It’s as though we’re all compensating for the fact that Christianity’s not good enough to stand on its own so we’re adding snacks.

When my church added a fog machine to the worship experience, my stomach literally turned. Fog machines are great in concert venues, but in church? Really? In addition to feeling like a show, it makes my eyes itch. Do we really have a need for this? Couldn’t that money be better used for other ministries, like feeding the homeless?

Church is trying too hard to be cool. And in my opinion, often failing miserably. Christianity is usually two trends too late. I end up rolling my eyes at whatever cool tactic they’re trying this week. Stop trying. Just preach the gospel.

I understand the need to make things relevant and accessible to everyone. I get that. But perhaps relevant and accessible is best portrayed through love, grace, and acceptance.

(I will add that although I see her point about disruptive kids and that the story about the boy with cerebral palsy is sad, I don’t completely agree. But I think I’ll save that for another post, rather than jump on my soapbox.)

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African Children’s Choir

In my worship journey, I’ve been recalling some specific moments of worship. Here’s one.

After a long, frightful plane ride across the ocean by myself, I land in the foreign land of Uganda. I get through customs; which seems surprisingly easy; claim my large bags, and meet the kind strangers that take me to where I am going. I am tired. I am scared. I am excited.

We arrive at the small house where I will begin my journey with the African Children’s Choir. Twenty-four adorable children race out of the house and zealously greet me. A handful of chaperones follow, offering warm hugs and help with my luggage. I am offered a small snack; a hard-boiled egg and a small banana. Understanding that I am tired and overwhelmed, they escort me upstairs to the room I will share with two others. With no running water at the moment, I have no option of the bath I so desperately want. I hoist myself up into the top bunk (being the last to arrive, I got whatever was left) to try and get a little bit of rest. This proves difficult, as it is about 10:00 in the morning and the sun is streaming through the window, right in my face. I content myself with simply lying down (being horizontal feels glorious), taking some deep breaths and convincing myself that I am in Africa. I put my headphones on and slip in one of my favorite CDs to help calm my nerves a little. As I lie there, another sound begins to drown out the music on my CD. I hit pause, slip the earphones off my ears and listen.

One of the most beautiful sounds I have ever heard drifts it’s way through the open window by my head. It takes me a moment to realize it is the choir of children I have come here to work with.

Later that night, I find out what the beautiful sound was. The children were in their devotional time. It is how they start and end every day. Standing in a big circle, five or six children will lead the group in praise and worship. Each child picks a praise song and leads it, and the group will sing along, clapping lively and dancing to the drumbeat. The children sing at the top of their lungs, clapping and laughing. As the praise songs come to an end, each of the five or six children then chooses a worship song to lead. Eyes closed, hands raised as high as they can go, these beautiful children will once again sing with all they have in their little bodies. They lift it all up to their God.

As I end my first day in Uganda, I watch in amazement as my true definition of worship begins to unfold before my eyes.

Question: Is there a particular memory of worship that sticks out in your memory?

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John Wesley’s rules on worship- penned in 1767

I grew up in the Methodist church. I have a fond appreciation for the Doxology, the traditional version of the Apostles Creed, and the blue Methodist hymnal that pokes up out of it’s little pocket on the back of the pew. One day, years ago, while flipping through the hymnal, I ran across this:

DIRECTIONS FOR SINGING

I. Learn these tunes before you learn any others; afterwards learn as many as you please.

II. Sing them exactly as they are printed here, without altering or mending them at all; and if you have learned to sing them otherwise, unlearn it as soon as you can.

III.  Sing all. See that you join the congregation as frequently as you can. Let not a slight degree of weakness or weariness hinder you. If it is a cross to you, take it up, and you will find it a blessing.

IV.  Sing lustily and with good courage. Beware of singing as if you were half-dead or half-asleep; but lift up your voice with strength.  Be no more afraid of your voice now, nor more ashamed of its being heard, than when you sung the songs of Satan.

V.  Sing modestly. Do not bawl, so as to be heard above or distinct from the rest of the congregation, that you may not destroy the harmony; but strive to unite your voices together, so as to make one melodious sound.

VI.  Sing in time. Whatever time is sung be sure to keep with it.  Do not run before and do not stay behind it; but attend close to the leading voices, and move therewith as exactly as you can; and take care not to sing too slow.  This drawling way naturally steals on all who are lazy; and it is high time to drive it out from among us, and sing all our tunes just as quick as we did at first.

VII. Above all, sing spiritually. Have an eye to God in every word you sing.  Aim at pleasing Him more than yourself, or any other creature. In order to do this attend strictly to the sense of what you sing, and see that your heart is not carried away with the sound, but offered to God continually; so shall your singing be such as the Lord will approve here, and reward you when he cometh in the clouds of heaven.

                                      From John Wesley’s Select Hymns, 1761

I must admit, when I first read these, I burst out laughing. I get the feeling that John Wesley was a strong personality, one who told things like they were and didn’t sugar coat them. I think I would have liked him.

I confess that I have wanted to run screaming from congregational singing lately. However, I know that despite all my struggles, it is still important. Though worship should be something daily lived, that weekly ritual of lifting our voices to God is sacred and special. I think his rules address some of the issues I often have with congregational worship.

  1. Don’t try to out-sing the people around you. No one cares how well you can sing during worship time. (I have probably been guilty of this in the past. My sincere apologies.)
  2. Stop changing the songs to make it “yours”. No need to add extra syllables onto the melody line. Kind of like when people sing Amazing Grace and it takes them seventeen minutes to sing the first line. Keep it simple, diva. The congregation can’t keep up with your vocal aerobics.
  3. Stop singing like this is the last place you want to be. Put some energy into it. This is for God, after all. He might be kind of put out that you’re more excited to watch Modern Family than worship Him. (I’m totally trying to convince myself that this one does not apply to me at all and I’m failing miserably.)
  4. This is for God. NOT FOR YOU. So get over yourself. (Again… finger pointing straight at me… sigh.)
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Confessions

I have a confession to make.

When I lead worship, it feels like I’m putting on a show, like I have to impress the people in the congregation. Because if I don’t, they’ll probably let me know. I get way nervous, worried that my pitch isn’t just right or that I’ll strum the wrong guitar chord. I worry that people are judging me for my musical talents, or because I don’t look worshipful enough. Maybe I’m not saying the right thing at the right time.

When I’m on stage, worship simply feels like a show.

I have another confession to make.

When I’m in the audience, when I’m supposed to be worshiping, it feels like a show. I judge the leader by all their musical mistakes, or sometimes lack thereof. If they’re too good, I think they’re just showing off. If there’s a typo in the powerpoint, I’m gone. If the worship leader says too much I get distracted. If he’s too confident, it seems like he’s just using his talents and not relying on God.

When I’m in the audience, worship simply feels like a show.

When did congregational worship become such a production? I’m all for rock music and giving the worship set all you’ve got, but sometimes I think that’s all I’m doing. Giving it all I’ve got without a second thought about God.

When I’m overwhelmed by electric guitar riffs and choking fog, I want the floor to swallow me up. I want to be anywhere but in that worship space. I start fighting back the tears of frustration because I’m not feeling it. I look at the people in the front row with their hands held high, blocking the power point for everyone behind them. They obviously “get” it. They’re not comparing this to a rock concert.

And then I glance at some of the people around me. Some are barely mumbling along to the words. Some have hands stuffed in their pockets. Some are gazing down at the floor. Some have their arms crossed in front of them and look very unimpressed. I’m obviously not alone.

When I’m on stage leading, sometimes I can’t see past the excited people in the front row. I am thankful for those that keep the energy up and are visibly into the music. But sometimes my gaze falls beyond them, to the people in the back, who look like I must look when I’m out there. And my heart goes out to them.

And I feel bad that I’m only putting on a show for them.