Thursday, April 28, 2011

Church Choir, not just robes and old ladies, Blog Day #4

No offense to old ladies, of course.

This blog entry isn't just about church choir, though it's been a huge part of my life during the entire Lent season.

It's more about worship. Well, about the worship of Jesus Christ, specifically. And of being called to serve in a way that honors Him.

Ever since I realized I believed in what the Bible has to say about Jesus, I've heard His voice calling to me about key events in my life. Some spiritual people would say they were "visions". But I prefer "promptings from the Holy Spirit",because I am in no way a prophet nor am I channeling any kind of psychic abilities.

No, God speaks randomly and mostly when I'm alone and in His Word.

I knew I needed to be baptized to solidify my new commitment to change my life into total obedience to Him.
I knew the boy who I was just starting to date would become my husband.
I knew that I would have a 5th child, and he would be a dark-haired boy named Henry.

And this last time, when my circumstances were trying and I was at a spiritual crossroads, I heard from Him again when I was pleading for His strength and wisdom. He whispered to me in my desperate need to honor His sacrifice for me despite my temptation to throw the towel in. He told me that I would serve Him in such a way that I and others around me would be brought to worship and lift up His name. It would be through song.

Now, I must confess, I wish this meant that I would supernaturally become a Christian diva.

But no, I did not spontaneously develop an angelic vocal tone with a multiple-octave singing range to boot. (Lord, help me to not be disappointed.)

God was going to use a gift and talent I already possessed, as meager and rusty and inconsistent as it was, to bring me to a new level of worship and prayer. My piano skills would be honed and sharpened to help bring myself and others into glorifying Him through music.

I already had it out with my ego last fall, when I decided to play once a month with the worship band. The piano at FBCDavis was an old friend. We had history, she and I. I had loved being the only piano player to step up and accompany the choir the way I did. So I eased in with an easy commitment, hiding in the shadows of a worship leader whose talent and genuine heart for God brought out the best in all the singers and band members, not to mention the congregation who listened and sang along.

And then, much to my ego's dismay, I was honored to become the choir's accompanist at the same time I decided to give up FB for Lent. I practiced as much as I could, playing through a couple of the most difficult songs I've played in a long time. Instead of updating my status on how good God was and how awesome an opportunity it was to play these awesome songs, I told God Himself in prayer. Instead of sharing with the world how I was in my element at choir, I praised God for being so good to me and for speaking/playing through me. I thanked Him for choosing me to play, mistakes and all.

Every week leading up to Good Friday, a love was growing through this new way to worship Him. I guess you could say that it was an old love re-kindled. Even now as I type my chest tightens and I can hardly breathe under the pressure of this deep love.

Every week leading up to Good Friday, the words of all of the songs hit home as I took my extra time to think about Jesus' road to the cross.

That road: full of betrayal, torture, agony, loneliness, and the weight of the sins of all man-kind.

Good Friday came, and as I sat at that piano I knew the Holy Spirit was breathing out the sound waves that worked together to create the beautiful harmonies and melodies coming from the instruments and voices. In the heaviness of remembering His gruesome and painful death for my sins, I didn't play my best. But He was there, my heart was His, and it wasn't about me.

And then Easter. . .Resurrection Day. . .A day of rejoicing and celebrating. When I played alongside the band, all I could think of was Him. When I played for the choir, my heart was praying the words they were singing. It was the deepest and truest worship I have ever offered up. Through me and the rest of the people on the church's humble stage, the whole room offered a deep and true worship in celebration of a God who conquers death.

He had called me so softly. I focused on Him alone. Then He blessed me so abundantly.

How good it is to be a child of God.

Thank you, Lord, for your loving-kindness towards me.

1 comment:

We are the Ganyos.... said...

It was SUCH a blessing to worship with you that day! I was so touched by our Easter service. First of all, this says so much because if I were to make a list of churches I could attend with a good likelihood of being moved, ours would be very low on the list. (NOT a bad thing - just not so much the 'moving' kind, if you know what I mean) It had little to do with any one liturgical element but rather an attitude and energy of true worship that felt strong and enduring. The Spirits presence was thick and I know we are not the only ones who knew it.
Thank you for such humble genuine leadership in your music. God works in mighty ways through your fingers.