Big People Music & Little People Music

Leading worship is a big responsibility and a great joy. Leading worship while teaching children in this charge is an even greater responsibility and a greater joy; purposefully instructing and building future leaders. In a recent experience, one child joined us at rehearsal and heard the adults talking about the need to incorporate the children’s songs from Sunday School. Hearing the discussion, the child quickly spoke up about being able to sing “the big people music.” I loved that spur of the moment response; a beautiful, open hearted and intuitive answer that is worshipful in and of itself.

The thing about leading worship is that it is not really about whose music (i.e. big and little) is being sung or played. It is an act of sacrificial joy noted for leading ministry, armies and nations. These are the players of cymbals, harps and trumpets, amongst other instruments, specifically mentioned in the Bible. The singers conducted services of song and ministered with music, some even having their names added to the text. Yet, I think even with these details, it is important to note that there is not one word about style, personal preference or music wars.

Worship is done to honor God. It is not about what music I like, don’t like, prefer and don’t prefer. It is not about my mood, my circumstances or my particular activities on a given day. I may have to move past morning sleepiness, arrangements I love or don’t particularly care for, the need for many rehearsals, growing skill sets as we all seek to improve and technical difficulties. When I step up with a team to lead worship on any given day, you could see me after a morning of smooth sailing or it may be everything I can do to keep it together while on stage. The gist of this, is that worship is not about me or you. And that, that was what was contained in those words, “I can sing the big people music.”

“…when the trumpeters and singers were as one, to make one sound to be heard in praising and thanking the Lord, and when they lifted up their voice with the trumpets and cymbals and instruments of music, and praised the Lord, saying:

‘For He is good,
For His mercy endures forever,’”

2 Chronicles 5:13a

The end of the week approaches. People will be practicing for Sunday, preparing music once again. As we prepare our own hearts to worship, on Sunday and each day, I want to encourage you to reach out past the moment and circumstances, to worship the Lord because you love him. Maybe you can even learn the “little people’s” Sunday School music.

The Right Destination

An elderly woman, tiny in frame, sat at her dining room table. In quiet tones, she told me about serving as a missionary in war torn countries. She told me of how bombs had dropped in her yard and potential kidnappers had followed her. She told me of the people she loved serving, and how she went to bed and slept in the middle of a war zone. Frail, petite and quiet; to look at her, this would not be the expected paragon of broad shouldered strength. Yet, she had found the right destination to lean on during troubles and in the celebration of victories. She taught me that to share our burdens with each other was not a weakness but a blessing; it both diminished our luggage load and let others be blessed by helping to carry some of that same weight.

“Bear one another’s burdens, and so fulfill the law of Christ.” Galatians 6:2

It was said to drop the distractions at the door on Sunday. Leave those disruptive troubles, hopes and plans on the stoop so that I can concentrate on the rituals and teachings of the day. But the swollen knot of stress, grief and hope that sits between my ribs and is choking me does not magically dissolve at the door step. I try, I stand there and wait for it to dissolve. I catch myself questioning, am I really just trying to be more self-reliant and self-protective rather than Christ reliant, more detached from the body of Christ rather than linked into the bond of family?  

“A new commandment I give to you, that you love one another; as I have loved you, that you also love one another.” John 13:34

Let’s not leave our disruptions at the door. Instead, let’s carry them in and set these burdens, both light and heavy, down at the altar. For those loads too heavy, large or grand to be carried by one, let us help one another carry them in and set them carefully on the altar. Then, once these things are at their right destination, let us place them safely into the care of the fixer, the dream maker, the healer and author of all good things. It won’t be easy; I know that I am not always so spectacular at making myself vulnerable. It can certainly be uncomfortable for most of us at any moment in time. But especially when this is baggage we have carried with caution and watchfulness, because it is important to us.

Carrying the burdens there, sharing our burdens, loving one another – it is like a city at night, the lights will come on and we will find that we have companions on our journey.  

Dancer

   Degas used to make beautiful art of dancers. They are posed in such deceptively simple and graceful ways. Dancers on stage show themselves as confident in their choreography. The costumes, stage, and music are set.

   But, what about that sign dance as if no one were watching…
   A little girl stood under the fountain, a multi jet creation shooting water drops into the air thirty feet. She twirled in her brightly striped dress, doing a happy little jig with her feet. She didn’t care if others saw her, if others joined in or noticed. I loved her twirly freedom. I loved how she didn’t pause when people walked by or look sheepish and embarrassed. I loved the freedom of dancing as if no one were watching, and my own feet would have loved to be invited to twirl along with her.
   We each have a dance, an action in our life, that we can do with ease and freedom. But it really only reaches the ease of this moment when we forget to care if others find the dance what they are wanting or liking and just twirl to our own hearts music.
   If you find me at the fountain, twirling barefoot through the water, just come join me.

Loos’d Absolute and Imaginary

    I was at the Hallmark store on Sunday and admiring the Peanuts display when I saw a little snippet of a Walt Whitman poem. Peanuts caught my eye as I am a fan of the cartoon, and relate so well to different characters there. My hair is naturally curly when I let it grow out, I want to believe in the Great Pumpkin, and I have a blanket that a comfort. It was given by a friend and it’s super soft and warm. Anyway, amidst the Snoopy and Lucy displays, Walt Whitman made an appearance. It was just a morsel, a fragment of a larger poem. The words, scripted in blank ink italics, said “From this hour, freedom! From this hour I ordain myself loos’d of limits and imaginary lines.” It’s from Song of the Open Road and continues on with the poem.

   I just loved the images in the words; they just popped in my brain like little kernels of ideas. Loos’d of limits and imaginary lines. Am I loos’d, do I see myself free? As much as I would probably like to say yes, I’m going to say no. I’m aware of the imaginary lines, most of us run into them every once in a while. The people goo we step in without being aware that it is there. Imaginary lines exist on maps, not just of the international variety but of the local as well. And what is freedom? Freedom is not going your own way and being completely heedless of everyone else. That is slavery to self and selfishness. Freedom is serving, is giving, and is consideration. It’s not being a door mat; it’s not being someone that people wipe their feet on.
     I think I need to pay closer attention to the imaginary lines and limits in my life. Some of those should probably be loos’d.

You’ve Got Mail

One of my favorite movies was on last night, “You’ve Got Mail,” with Meg Ryan and Tom Hanks. I love the movie, the word play and the characters. And those words that are in the title, “You’ve Got Mail.” Isn’t it such a nice thing to open up your e-mail and find a message waiting there for you from a friend? But I think it’s the character of Kathleen Kelly that I like most of all. I understand her musings on the bouquets of sharpened pencils, having a view of the world which is colored by her own perspective. Mostly I think it is that this character walks about, not oblivious that others may not see the world as she does, but at the end content to be herself and walk in her own shoes.

I love that, because I find that too often I worry about what others think. I try not to, but at times I vary somewhere between obliviousness towards others perceptions of me, simply not caring, and then caring a bit too much. Oh, not caring in a way to persuade me from my principles, but when you have a twinge of what others are thinking. It’s the ability to twirl, to read and soak in knowledge, to sing, to smell daisies, to read or write e-mails. When I am standing out on the driveway, warmed by the sun and under a clear night sky, I can twirl and sing, or just sit down and watch the dogs play. It is times like that, the moments when I am happily oblivious of what others may be thinking. I can’t say that I can always twirl, sing, and smell daisies (and bouquets of sharpened pencils), but I do like to as much as possible.

Aspirations of Normalcy – Really?

Sit for one TV show and you will watch several breaks of commercials.  Obviously, they are commercials and therefore by nature designed to compel you to purchase, go, or act in a certain fashion.  Buy this outfit, fix your hair like this, drive this car, fit in – be normal.

But, what is Normal?  Should I really aspire to be normal?  Should you?  I have my own sense of who I am and who I can be.  Imagine that you are standing in a gallery filled with beautiful paintings.  Each is unique, each is different though there are similar themes found in many of them.  There paint has been mixed to fit just that canvas perfectly, blended by a deft hand and applied in a masterful way.  Lighting has been arranged to catch the best of each of the paintings.  Carefully hung, each is unique as you stroll past.  Now, imagine that this gallery is really the sidewalk of a street.  Each person you meet is a carrying a painting in their arms.  Each one is a unique work of art by the Master artist.  Unique, and I’m aspiring for normalcy?  Nope – I don’t think so!  I’m aspiring for something extraordinary.  How about you?

Who am I - Javert and the Bishop

“Who am I? Can I conceal myself for evermore?
Pretend I'm not the man I was before? And must my name until I die
Be no more than an alibi? Must I lie?
How can I ever face my fellow men? How can I ever face myself again?”

Words made famous from John Valjean’s song in Les Miserables asks a question that many of us ask during certain points in our life. Who am I? I am the same person I was before? Victor Hugo wrote so beautifully in his book and then the thoughts were translated into music. If you aren’t familiar with the story, Valjean had stolen bread so that his family wouldn’t starve. Then, thrown into prison, he was hardened and broken further by years of hard labor and captivity controlled by Javert. Javert, the overly zealous and biased guard pursues Valjean, assuming that the prisoner whom he perceived was the true man. Instead, a bishop saw the potential of Valjean and stepped forward to show him a new person.

I spoke to someone recently who had made some difficult life choices. She wondered if she should always think of herself as the person she was. But, in doing this, she was losing sight of the person she is. Who am I? It’s not such a bad question to consider every once in a while. I am a child of the Most High King. I am a daughter, a friend, a worker, a dreamer. I am someone who strives, hopes, and doesn’t always succeeds. I’m an imperfect me, learning and not always succeeding. I, as well as this other woman, as well as you – have been created in the image of God. Created with a purpose. We all make poor choices and then have to live with the consequences. But, is the bishop right who saw Valjean as he was and could be, or was Javert who was right who saw what was? Maybe they both are. But, I would like to think that the bishop is the one who sees the greater truth. He certainly did with Valjean.

I really like the way the song ends….

“My soul belongs to God, I know, I made that bargain long ago.

He gave me hope when hope was gone He gave me strength to journey on….

Who am I? I’m John Valjean.”