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Honored to be guest posting

Today I am guest posting at a newly discovered blog. I met Chad Jones through Twitter. He’s a fellow introvert, so he’s way cool in my book.

In the guest post, I talk about being an introvert in an extroverted church. In one of my previous posts, I talked about my discovery of how being an introvert in an extroverted church is part of the reason I’m having difficulty worshipping. In this guest post, I expound a little more on those thoughts.

Check out the guest post here, and thanks to Chad for the opportunity to guest post.

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Finding God on the asphalt

What’s been your weirdest moment of worship?

Mine was lying in the middle of the street in the Australian outback at 9 p.m.

I was on tour with the African Children’s Choir, and had lucked out enough to score a spot on the Australia team (it’s a rough life, I know.) We toured literally in the middle of nowhere, to a town called Winton. I walked the entire diameter of the town in 20 minutes. If you walked 1 minute outside of town, you’d be smack dab in the middle of the outback.

There was very little traffic, even during rush hour, if they had that sort of thing. So, after bedtime, when all our little African babies were tucked safely in bed, we wandered to the outskirts of town and looked up at a huge sky. Then plopped ourselves onto the middle of the road, laid back on the asphalt, and propped our head in our hands.

Looking up, one of my friends wondered out loud, “I wonder where the Northern Star is?” Immediately after uttering it, we all burst out laughing, We kept forgetting we were in the Southern Hemisphere.

We talked a bit after that, and then fell silent as we fell in awe of the vast sky above us. It was truly amazing. And beautiful.

I sense God the most, hear Him the loudest when I am in nature. His creation never ceases to inspire me, and that night, lying underneath a gigantic Australian sky, I really felt Him. I took a big breath in, and relished in the fact that God was near, with me, and wasn’t going anywhere. I silently thanked Him for all the gifts and blessings He had given me. Without a note of music, without a word, I worshipped. I got up off that street, wiping bits of asphalt off my back, and felt a little more whole.

I didn’t expect to find God in the middle of the street, and yet, there He was.

Your turn. What’s your weirdest moment of worship?

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The song of a 97 year old

I was on the second floor of my retirement community job recently when a sound drifted up from the dining room.

A harmonica.

I smiled as I realized it was one of my residents. He’s 97, always smiling and joyful, and loves to sit in the dining room or hallway and play his harmonica for anyone passing by.

As I listened from the second floor balcony, it took me a minute to recognize that he was playing Amazing Grace. He finished, and the residents eating lunch exploded into applause. He launched into another hymn. He played hymn after hymn, and some residents began quietly singing along to each tune.

That buzzy sounding harmonica is beautiful to me. Harmonica is not an instrument I would normally describe as beautiful. Violins or piano maybe. For some reason, when this 97 year old sits, playing hymns on his rusty harmonica, it’s beautiful. Absolutely beautiful.

And worshipful.

I’m finding less of a need for a full band and a stage for worship these days. Simple is good for me. One guitar seems more than enough. A big African drum is more than substantial. One harmonica? Sure!

Those simple, unexpected moments of worship speak to my heart more than the planned ones do.

Have you had a simple, worshipful moment that sticks out to you?

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When I feel like Cain

I’ve always been slightly troubled by the story of Cain and Abel. I feel bad for Cain… that is before he killed his brother. That was kind of uncalled for.

The part I’m talking about is when the two brothers brought their offering.

Now Abel kept flocks, and Cain worked the soil. In the course of time Cain brought some of the fruits of the soil as an offering to the Lord. And Abel also brought an offering—fat portions from some of the firstborn of his flock. The Lord looked with favor on Abel and his offering, but on Cain and his offering he did not look with favor. So Cain was very angry, and his face was downcast.

Genesis 4:2-5

There is more to the story. You can read it here.

Worship involves bringing our best. Between Cain and Abel, Abel brought the “better” sacrifice, which I’ve always taken to mean he brought the best he had, while Cain might have been holding out. When we worship, we should offer God the absolute best we have and not hold back. Okay, that’s an easy lesson.

But what about when the best we have to offer isn’t very good?

When I first read the story of Cain and Abel, I was puzzled. Cain was a gardener and worked with plants. So, he brought plants and the fruits of the ground to God. I like veggies, so this seems like a good gift to me. But God doesn’t “look with favor” on his offering; he “looks with favor” on Abel’s instead. Is God a carnivore? Not too hip on salad? What was it that made Cain’s offering not good enough?

When I took religion classes in college, I learned about the importance of blood sacrifices and how crucial it was to an acceptable sacrifice. It seemed that one reason Cain’s offering wasn’t accepted was because there was no blood involved (this is my simplified understanding). Perhaps he knew better, and that’s why God refused. Like I said, there is more to the story, and the Bible doesn’t really give us much detail on the state of Cain’s heart. He might have begrudgingly brought his offering while Abel brought his with a joyful heart.

All we know for sure is that he was a gardener. That’s what he did. He brought the fruits of his effort to God’s feet. And he was rejected.

I think I understand why he was a little peeved.

Sometimes I feel a little like Cain. Like I’m trying to bring the best I have, but because I’m not doing it like everyone else around me, it’s not being accepted. Like I need a little more blood, sweat, and tears in my worship.

I know this is absolutely ridiculous. But when I’m totally, completely honest with myself, I struggle with these things. These things that I feel I shouldn’t struggle with, but for whatever reason, I do.

I’m not good enough.

I’m not trying hard enough.

If I worshipped like this, then God would accept my offering and I’d feel better about this whole worship thing.

In the very pit of this struggle, on those Sundays when I’d drag myself to church with every ounce screaming internally, “DON’T MAKE ME!!!” I would sit in the pews, feeling very little. I’d listen to the music and feel unmoved. I’d hear the sermon and not be able to relate any of it to my life. Communion would begin, the most holiest of times that I used to love and anticipate every week. I’d still feel nothing. Tears of frustration would sting my eyes, because surely I should be getting something out of this. I’d be afraid to approach the communion table because I didn’t feel my heart was prepared or worthy enough.

So I would eke out a prayer.

“God, I am not feeling anything right now. I’m numb. I’m tired. I’m frustrated. I want to feel and worship and be excited and I just can’t. All I have is this half hearted feeling. I’m trying. I’m struggling. And that’s all I can lay at Your feet.”

And you know what? He accepted it. I realized that that was enough. I trudged myself up that aisle amongst all those happy Christians who were squealing with joy over all God had done for them and I dipped my bread into the juice. I accepted Jesus’ gift and thanked God for the little bitty bit of peace I managed to scrape up.

Sometimes our best doesn’t seem so good, but I believe God wants us to bring that. I truly believe He will accept it and honor it. Some days barely okay is the best I have, and I’m learning that’s okay.

Question: Have you ever felt like Cain?

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Worship is NOT about me

There’s one thing I have to continually remind myself of about worship.

It’s not about me.

Because worship used to give me warm fuzzies and made me feel close to God, I forget that this is not the point of worship. It’s not about what I get out of it. For the longest time, that is what I’ve subconsciously convinced myself it is all about. If I leave worship feeling filled up and energized, then it accomplished what it was supposed to do. If I walk out feeling like, “Well, that didn’t really do it for me,” then it failed miserably.

Where did that train of thinking embed itself into my brain?

Worship is what I can give to God, not what He’s going to give me.

It’s like I walk into church with arms crossed over my chest, looking at God and saying, “Alright, what are you going to give me today? This better be good. I got up early for this.”

Meanwhile, He sits on His throne, offering me the grace He always offers, and doesn’t smite me down like the spoiled little brat in me deserves. He patiently reminds me yet and yet again that He is the one who should be asking the question, “What are you going to give me today?”

So, I’m going to do my best to ask myself that question. What am I going to give Him today?

It doesn’t mean that I need to be on the front row at worship, jumping up and down and shouting His praise. I’ve already determined that that is not how I genuinely worship.

In my case, I think this will involve softening my heart and not being so judgmental during church. Choosing to see His beauty in everything that surrounds me, and being thankful that He is all around me.

What are you going to give Him today?

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You Are a Writer book review

This post is not about worship. Consider it a bonus post. I had a chance to write a review for a book by an author I’ve quickly come to admire. I’ve been reading Jeff Goin’s writing blog for several months and love the way he challenges and pushes his readers to be better writers. When he put all of his great advice together into a book, I knew I had to read it.

For about a year now, I have been actively pursuing some dreams and goals in my life. One of these goals has involved writing. I never really considered myself a writer. It was simply something I did on the side. I journaled frantically in an effort to sort through thoughts in my mind, and blogged occasionally to put my thoughts out there for the few readers I had to see. But beyond that, I didn’t have anything to show that I was a writer.

Until I started to feel that I had something to say, and it needed to be said.

I started out clumsily on my writing journey, doing the best I could and struggling through. I still didn’t see myself as a writer and would normally call myself an “aspiring writer.” I mean, I had no published work, so what business do I have to call myself a real writer?

In the first few pages of You Are a Writer, I read:

We sabotage our work and subvert our genius… With words. Subtle but serious words that kill your passion before you can pursue it. Words like “aspiring” and “wannabe.”

Oops.

A few pages later, Jeff urged me to pick up a pen and write down these words.

I am a writer.

Writing those words was, and is, freeing. It encouraged me to stop downplaying my work and be proud of what I was creating.

The thing I love most about the book is the balance that Jeff places on writing for the love of writing, and yet still pushing yourself by putting yourself out there. The first step to writing is to remember why you’re doing it. You’re doing it for the passion of writing, because as a writer, you can’t not write. The second step is to continually challenge and push yourself in your writing. Put it out there for people to see. Blog. Submit work for publication. Give yourself deadlines.

Jeff gives effective and sound writing advice. He sets achievable goals and offers creative ways to put yourself out there. He encourages the reader to build a community of support, and shows you tools that help you become a more effective writer. He gently encourages and yet gives that realistic wake-up call that writing is not easy. It takes hard work and discipline.

The book showed me the things I need to continue working on; building my platform and brand, and shipping my work and being ready for failure. Failure I am not ready for. But if I want to be a better writer, it’s time to thicken my skin a little and submit my work for criticism.

I recommend this book for anyone who has ever thought of writing but doesn’t know where to begin, for the amateur blogger that wants to do something more with his art, and for writers that have years of experience under their belt. I believe this book will encourage you to move forward and remind you that no matter how much you may not feel like it, you are a writer.

We are all hoping something we do in this world matters. That what we create will stay with people forever.

You can buy the book here, or get more information about it here.

 

 

 

 

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Faith is like a marriage

When my husband and I were first dating, I was enraptured with him. I spent every possible minute I could with him and just relished being near him, holding his hand, and cuddling next to him. I got butterflies in my stomach every time he flashed that cute little grin my way.

I showed love to him with poetry, love notes left on his windshield, and dressing up cute.

Now, almost four years into our marriage, some of that has slightly changed.

I am still enraptured with him. I love him deeply and tell him that everyday (he usually tells me about ten times a day) and kiss him goodnight every night.

But I’ve found that now I show love to him in different ways. Although I occasionally write poetry and leave love notes for him, the more constant way I show love is to keep the house clean and try to have a decent dinner on the table. It may not be as glamorous as our dating days, but it’s still love.

My relationship with God is a lot like that.

When I first became intentional about my faith, I loved spending time with God. I ate up His Word and loved spending time in prayer. Worship music filled me up as I sang love songs to my Savior. It was like the courtship stage.

Now, I’m a little more settled in my faith and things have changed. I’m not always looking for that intense, dramatic, spiritual experience. Like so many moments in my marriage, I’m content chilling on the couch next to God while we watch a movie together. I know He’s with me, and sometimes that’s enough.

Now, I do tend to err on the side of lazy. Just like I could make more of an effort to still look cute for my husband (I know he’s grown tired of the yoga pants he always comes home to) I could make more of an effort to spend time with God and focus on Him. Just because I’m not a rookie Christian anymore doesn’t mean I can slack off.

Like marriage goes through stages, I believe faith does as well. Those flowery worship songs that once spoke to me are not necessarily going to speak to me in my new walk of faith.

It’s time to find new ways to love on my God.

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How do I connect with a worship song that I just can’t connect with?

When I hear a worship song that I don’t connect with, this is what goes through my mind, not always in this order.

“What a hokey song. I really don’t like this.”

“It’s not all about you. Get over it.”

“Worship is not about style. Don’t get hung up on how they’re doing a song.”

“What are the words trying to say? I don’t know that I totally agree with this song.”

“That vocalist is getting way too excited about this song.”

“What chords is the guitarist playing? I bet I could play this song; not that I’d want to.”

“Phew, it’s over…”

Sometimes the thoughts vary, but this is the basic gist.

I know that I can’t connect with every worship song. It’s just not going to happen. There are going to be songs I don’t like, music that is hokey, or words that seem weird. I suppose my problem is trying to figure out what to do when I hear a song that I can’t connect with. If I continue having the above train of thought, I’m pulling myself into myself and focusing on me quite a bit, which isn’t what worship is supposed to be about.

Do I just sing along and pretend I’m into it? (I’m not real comfortable with that.)

Do I shut off, stop singing, and wait for the next song which I might connect with? (That doesn’t seem like a good way to worship.)

Do I attempt to pray and focus on God even though all the lights and sounds around me are distracting me and making it really hard to? (I think I’m becoming ADD as I grow older.)

How do you deal with a worship song that you don’t really connect with?

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Real worship doesn’t happen on a stage

The following is a memory from the summer of 1999.

Standing in the middle of a large crowd, I am eager to see the next band, though I am getting a bit tired. Bouncing around in the summer heat to all my favorite bands zapped most of my energy. I am beyond excited to be back at Creation, but it’s getting late, and it has been a long week.

I stifle a yawn and muster up all my energy for the final concert of the night. As the band takes the stage, bright lights bounce across the trees surrounding us and loud booming guitars rattle our eardrums.  People begin jumping as the energy from the band courses through their veins. They become unaware of the people around them, and soon little me is being run into and almost shoved over, without any sort of apology. Strangers are screaming in my ears. I huddle close to my group of friends, but still get jostled here and there. Water comes from nowhere, and pegs us in the face. We jolt from the shock, and one of my friends lets out a loud, “HEY!” but it falls silent amidst all the noise surrounding us.

And this is a CHRISTIAN concert?

I walk away from the show disappointed. While I enjoyed the music, the atmosphere was less than inviting. I can’t shake the feeling that the people I had just been around had not been very Christ-like. We are returning to our campsite when we walk past the crosses on the hill.

“Hey guys,” I motion to the crosses. “I’d like to go see them.”

A man had built 13 crosses in memory of the Columbine high school shootings. These crosses had traveled around the country to different Christian concerts and events. They were made of simple wood, and were built to remember each teacher and student that had been killed that day. Originally, there had been 15. The two extra were for the killers, an extraordinary symbol of forgiveness by the man who had created the crosses. However, after controversy and complaint, those two had been removed.

After climbing up the hill we encounter a silent crowd. We fall in line and wait our turn to see each cross. As we approach each one, I notice each person’s name, a short biography, a picture, and writing in different colors and handwriting. They are covered in Bible verses, messages, and prayers. There are crosses and necklaces strapped to each one. Teddy bears lay at the foot of some.

As we walk by each cross, I notice that no one is shoving by anyone else to get a better look. In fact, if someone is peering to see better, the person in front of them kindly steps out of the way to allow them more space. People are holding flashlights up so that others can read the messages in the pitch-black night.

Then the singing starts.

I don’t know how it starts. I don’t know who starts it. It seems as if the crowd just starts in unison, all softly singing together.  As we walk and solemnly stand at the foot of each cross, we sing praise songs and hymns in unison.  Tears are shed. Prayers are prayed.

We worship.

Soon, it is time for the crosses to continue on to their next destination. They are gently pulled out of the ground and passed across the crowd to be loaded onto a truck. Again; no pushing, no fighting. The crowd works together to get them onto the truck.

As we watch,we stop and listen to the singing. After a few moments, we wipe our eyes and walk to the edge of the hill. We perch on top of the hill and enjoy the quiet of the night.  I think about how the concert was not worship. The quiet, special time spent with hundreds of stranger friends was.

Do you have a memory of worship that happened off stage?

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Awkward Icebreaker Songs

I am pleased to present my first guest post. This post comes from Jim Woods, a friend I met through Jon Acuff‘s Quitter conference. Jim is a writer, musician, guitar guru, and an encourager. He helped me immensely when I was beginning to attempt songwriting, and I’m very grateful.

Check out Jim’s blogs: Unknown Jim and Jguitarnash, a guitar blog. He’s a great writer, and I’m thankful that he thought of me for a guest post.

If you’ve got an idea for a guest post, please contact me (there’s a contact tab on the home page). I’d love to hear from you.

Awkward Icebreaker Songs

by Jim Woods

Visiting a church for the first time reminds me of a first date. I’m always nervous, awkward, uncomfortable and sweaty. I immediately look for something familiar that will calm me down and help me fit in. Most churches are aware that first-time guests feel this way, and can take this approach of familiarity and go a little too far.

A few years ago, I attended a new church and I heard music that simply should not be played in any church service. The opening song was Black Sabbath’s “Iron Man.” As if that was not enough, there were added psychedelic visuals as well, complete with dancing robots and spinning nuts, bolts and wheels. Think of the cartoon imagery from the Pink Floyd movie “The Wall” and you get the idea. Not exactly the kind of imagery you’d expect at church.

What followed after that surreal moment is now a blur. I’m not sure if I fainted, or went into a state of shock. I really didn’t expect to hear a song by Black Sabbath, or to see any creepy robots dance.

I understand and appreciate that churches want to connect with a modern audience, but there are times when a worship leader must emphatically say no. There are occasions where the only option is to slam on the brakes, turn around and go in a completely different direction.

I wonder how the conversation went during worship band rehearsal:

Worship drummer: “Hey guys, why don’t we play some Black Sabbath this week?”

Worship guitarist: “Yeah, I’m tired of David Crowder and Chris Tomlin tunes.”

Worship drummer: “Yeah, how about we crank out some “Iron Man,” “War Pigs,” or “Sweet Leaf”?”

Worship leader: “You know, some folks might get offended with songs about wars or smoking. Let’s stick with “Iron Man,” that’s the best choice.”

Worship guitarist: “Okay, cool. But next week let’s play some Metallica or Iron Maiden!”

Worship leader: “Yeah, for sure!”

Okay, I could be a little off in my guess as to how the conversation went in rehearsal. But there are some things that can be learned from the “Sabbath incident”.

1. The Worship Band is not a cover band in the local bar or a jam session in a garage. The worship band’s job is to provide music that leads the church to worship.

2. Trying too hard to be cool never works. It comes across forced, which can easily be interpreted as fake. Honesty is important. Honesty connects us with others and is vital to building community.

3. Worship music does not have to be boring. We are giving back the glory to our Creator, the God who created everything. Jesus laughed. Jesus wept. Jesus was as authentic as they come; and He was God made flesh.

Worship leaders have a very difficult task each week. It is impossible to keep everyone happy, but please avoid playing icebreaker songs like “Iron Man”. We ALL make mistakes. Please continue to treat your position with the diligence and respect it deserves. Thank you for what you do.