They Have Decided!

We had three more baptisms this morning!

It has become a new custom for us to sing "I Have Decided to Follow Jesus" after the baptisms. This is simulcast into the Crossing service so that they can see the baptism and sing along with us as we celebrate. I find this really emotional, and I have a tough time getting through the song without breaking up. Occupational hazard, I guess. But not one I want to give up!

Keeping Together

Possibly you saw news stories recently reporting on the New York Philharmonic's concert in Pyongyang, North Korea. This event was viewed by many with hope that it would lead to a thawing of relations between the U.S. and it's long-time enemy.

I had the good fortune to see the video of this concert on our local PBS station. One of the most interesting things to be seen was the faces of the audience members, which were masked with reserve at the beginning of the concert, melt into expressions of warmth, even delight, as the concert progressed. It was another example of the way music has the power to connect with the human soul in a way that is almost unheard-of in any other medium. It made me wish I was there!

I'm sure great care had been given to the selection of the repetoire for that concert. Apparently, has been difficult for most North Koreans to have any access to contemporary Western music ever since the '50s, and the concert included quite a bit of this music. It must have sounded a little strange to their ears, which were still tuned to the ninteenth century!

One of the most interesting and moving moments in the evening was when the NY Phil played the overature from Leonard Bernstein's "Candide", one of those pieces that the North Koreans would have found very modern sounding. Of course, Bernstein himself had been the conductor of this orchestra for years, and it is apparently a tradition for them to honor his memory by playing this piece with no one on the conducting podium, inviting the audience to imagine him still up there directing in spirit. How did they do it?! It's NOT an easy piece by any means, with multiple meter changes and complex rhythms through out. It was certainly a gamble, because it could have been a disaster, but it was not. I personally was in awe of these fabulous musicians. Apparently the North Koreans were, too, because, despite the unfamiliarity of the piece, it was at that point that I began to see the thawing occur. They could not help but admire the musicianship on display!

In general, I don't think any of us would expect an unconducted large ensemble to stay together.
Certainly, we would rather not risk the consequences!

In this past year, our ensemble of musicians in the sanctuary service has grown in size to approximately 30 singers and instrumentalists on most Sundays. We have about twenty-five singers on a good day, an organist, a pianist, a violinist, and a trumpeter. Occasionally, for a big holiday piece, we might have even more than that. In past years, when we did not have the good fortune to have so many people involved, it was possible to get by without the songleader directing. That would be inviting chaos now! I have heard from some folks that it is uncomfortable to them to have someone directing. I'm not sure why, exactly. Maybe they are just uncomfortable with change, in general. It is, after all, the more traditional service, and this directing thing has not been our tradition!

To me, it just makes sense to make sure we all stay together-after all, we're not the NY Phil! Beyond that, I love the fact that we have now found a way to involve even more musicians in praising God. The "big "hymns, like "Wonderful Grace of Jesus", "Victory In Jesus", A Mighty Fortress", etc. are so much fuller and more powerful. The quieter, reflective hymns like "It Is Well With My Soul" and "The Longer I Serve Him", are so beautiful with only the piano and violin as the accompaniment. The choir is powerfully singing all four parts behind me, the congregation's 200+ voices are singing towards me, the instrumentalists suround me on the platform, and I think I am the luckiest person in the building to get hear "surroundsound" worship!

Just like Heaven!

In All Things, Give Thanks

There are two really great things about having four inches of snow on March 4th.

1. It covers up all the dirty, not-green-yet stuff.
2. It will all most likely melt off within a day or two.

And that's my "looking on the brighter side of life" comment for the day.

Memorable Worship

I would be interested in hearing from readers about the most meaningful worship experience they remember. It doesn't necessarily have to have occurred in church. This needn't be anything long (unless you feel like being very detailed), but I would be curious to know what made the experience so powerful for you.

Personally, I can think of several, but I'll limit my comments to this one:

Fifteen years ago I was asked to sing a solo for our Easter service. I decided to sing "I Know That My Redeemer Liveth" from Handel's Messiah. I had several week's advance notice,and I worked very hard to prepare this piece.

As I was working on it, my Grandmother found out that her cancer, which had been in remission, had returned for the third time. She was 83 years old, and she just said "This is what is going to get me, and I don't want to spend my last days feeling rotten from the treatments." So she just decided to go unmedicated and take things as they came. And, actually, she felt pretty good for some months, so she had that time to enjoy her life and her family.

Grandma had been a very active person, and, like me, a locally active singer. She wasn't really singing anymore, but she was always very encouraging to me about my singing.

Anyway, the day came for me to sing. As I started the piece, I looked out into the congregation and saw that my grandmother was staring at me intently. I can't quite describe the look on her face; but somehow I felt that the words of that song were a connection between us.
"I know that my Redeemer liveth...And though worms destroy this body, yet in my flesh shall I see God!" There was no question that I sang that statement of faith the best I have ever sung. I sang it for her. I knew that that opportunity was engineered for me by the Holy Spirit, to encourage my grandmother, and receive encouragement for myself. Though I had believed those words intellectually for a long time, for the first time I internalised them. I don't think I have ever feared death since.

What about you? When have you really connected with God in worship?

Joyful Worship

A few days ago I spoke with my son Paul, proud father of Malorie, 6 months old. He was giving me all the Malorie-news: first tooth is now through, rolls both ways (which is good, because it used to make her mad when she wound up on her tummy and couldn't get back to her back!), and, Paul claims, she calls him Da-da.

I asked Paul, "Are you sure she is really associating the sound da-da with you? Are you sure she isn't just babbling?" (What kind of Nanna am I, to question Malorie's genius!)

"Well we wondered that at first, too," Paul said. "But then we noticed that she will purposely make some sound to get my attention, and when I look over, she gives me a big smile and says 'Da-da'." He went on to tell me that she doesn't say it when he is gone.

Now, I know how Malorie smiles: with her entire body! It looks like she's being tickled. It's something she does that shows pure delight, and seeing it generates pure delight in all around her.

I also know that her Mommy, if she is anything like I was, probably starts telling her, a few minutes before Paul walks in the door each evening, "Malorie, Daddy is coming soon! Won't it be fun to see Daddy?" Maybe Malorie even starts looking around for Daddy when Janel mentions him. I don't know if she is old enough to think about Daddy when he is gone, yet, but hearing his name must conjure up his image for her, and maybe she even anticipates the fun she will have playing with her Daddy. She certainly doesn't know that when he is invisible to her he is really still in existence, working hard to make a living and provide for her. Some day she will understand that, but for now she just lives in the present, and that present sure is great when Daddy is home!

Bear with me; this really is about worship!

You see, hearing this story made me wonder. How many of us get that excited to see our Heavenly Father? How many of us laugh and giggle with anticipation when we think about going to worship on Sunday morning? How many of us, like Malorie, don't know where our Father is if we can't see him? How many of us realize that the best way to see Him is through the Church?
This week, when you come into the Sanctuary, why not anticipate his presence, smiling with your whole body, and calling out "Da-da!"

Through Other's Eyes

A few years ago our family had the interesting experience of getting to know a wonderful young German woman named Annetta. Annetta was a Fulbright Scholarship student at the university here, and she was a classmate of one of my sons. If you know anything about Fulbright Scholars, they are not only brilliant, but very open and curious about the culture they are visiting. As she and my son became became friends, she discovered that Matt was planning to become a minister. She was very curious about this! Why would an intelligent young man choose such a stupid profession? As they conversed, she became intrigued about the American "obsession" with religion. Eventually, because she was such a curious person, she accepted my son's invitation to attend our church.

She came on a Sunday when Pastor Randy was giving a first-person sermon in which he was a character from the Christmas story. Having a pastor preach in costume was quite a surprise to her. It was also a Sunday when the chairman of our trustee board announced that we had finally gotten everything in order to make a substantial addition to our building, an addition that was geared most specifically toward ministry to children and youth. It was an exciting day, and the church was absolutely packed. As usual, after singing and praying for a while, the children were dismissed to go to another room for children's church.

From my perch in the choir loft I was watching with great interest all the responses to the service flitting across Annetta's face. I saw her smile with surprise when the congregation laughed at some little joke that was made by the worship leader. I saw her listen with rapt puzzlement as the building plans were announced and the congregation buzzed with excitement. I saw her crane her neck to watch all the little ones run down the aisles to go to children's church. Being very musical, she sang the hymns from the hymnbook with great enthusiasm. She was probably more completely engaged in what she was experiencing than any one I had seen in a long time.

After the service, I met her, along with my family, out by the coat racks, where all the families in the church always lingered to chat with each other. After introducing her to a few people, we asked her to join us for lunch.

Annetta was full of questions!

First and foremost: how were we paying for the expansion to our building? We told her that all the members of the congregation were giving toward the new wing, because we were out of space for our children's and youth ministries.

This was amazing to her. "In Germany the government maintains all the church buildings. We all pay taxes for that."

It was our turn to be surprised. "Don't the people who are non-believers get mad about that?"

"No, because most of our churches are historic, so they can see that they need to be preserved.", she said.

So we explained that here we had had a separation of church and state since colonial times, and churches were solely in the hands of the people who attended them. No, no, the pastor didn't force anybody to give to the building fund, and there might be a few members who did not choose to give, but most of us really saw the need for the addition, and were glad to help make it happen.

Next, she wondered where all the little children had gone during the service. We explained that they went to another room where there was Bible lesson just for them, since they were too young to understand what the pastor was saying in the sermon. And that it was nice for them, too, because they could have fun and their parents could listen to the sermon without distraction.

"I think this is a very good idea, and they should do this in Germany, too," she said. "In Germany, no takes children to church, church is just for grown-ups. When I was a girl, my grandmother would sometimes take me to church, but I didn't like it. It was just a few old ladies sitting in a little group up near the front. It was cold in there, and you had to be quiet. I didn't like it, and I didn't understand it."

We expressed sympathy. Too bad her parents didn't find a church that had more kids, we said. "There weren't any," she said. "No one young goes to church in Germany. It is seen as something from the past, something that is part of our history, but we don't do it anymore." Then she got more animated. "But here, I can see that it is different. So many young families with children! And people are really listening to what is going on, really singing loudly. It is so different from Germany! You can even tell a jokes and laugh in church here. And people must think that this will be part of the future, or they wouldn't spend so much money to enlarge the building. We don't make churches bigger at home. We just take care of them so they don't fall down in ruins."

'Annetta," I said, "church is not a museum. We have a children's song that goes like this:

I am the Church,
You are the Church,
We are the Church together.
All of God's people, all around the world,
Yes we're the Church together.
The Church is not building,
The Church is not a steeple,
The Church is not a resting place,
The church is the people.
I am the Church,
You are the Church,
We are the Church together.
All of God's people, all around the world,
Yes we're the church together.

"So the building is just the tool that we use to do the things the people in the church need to do."

She looked bemused. "That's what is really different. When you go to a church in Germany, you don't feel anything. But here, you can feel something in the church. I don't know how to explain it-you just feel something that is more alive."

I think about our conversations with Annetta often. Sometimes, when people get a little too "preservationist", resisting change, I think about Annetta's observations and her amazing insights about the difference between dead church buildings and living congregations, dead rituals and Spirit-infused worship. It reminds me once again of the concept of "worship evangelism".

I'm so glad to be here! I need to pray that I never forget to see things through her fresh eyes, never try to turn my building or my church service into a museum piece.

It's All About the Cross

As I have mentioned, one of the most significant things the choir can contribute to a worship service is "singing truth" to the congregation. And, as I have also mentioned, that colors my selection of new music. Every season I recieve a number of catalogs and demo discs to review. I listen to a lot of Christian "elevator music", but once in a while one of the demonstrated anthems really grabs me emotionally-in fact, I usually suddenly find myself in tears as I am listening. Invariably, it is the Truth of the lyrics that brings this about.

This summer, as I listened to the demos by the hour in the choir room, I found the one. "It's All About the Cross", by Ruth Elaine Schram, is what I call a meta-narrative anthem. It gives a "Gospel-in-a-nutshell" presentation. I especially like to include meta-narratives around the holidays, when the church is often full of visitors and Christmas-and-Easter attenders. This particular anthem stood out to me as the one that we should do on Palm Sunday, when Pastor usually gives a sermon in first person style, and our members often invite friends. It is the perfect narrative to lead us into Holy Week.

I ordered it immediately. But throughout the summer, the lyrics of that anthem ministered to me so many times, especially those times when I was feeling some discouragement, because they helped me to focus on what I was really doing by serving in my position as Music Coordinator. After a particularly tough situation, I slipped that demo disc into the boombox in my room, and felt once again the "peace that passes understanding" fill me, healing me, encouraging me, and renewing my sense of purpose.

I decided that it would make a great piece to focus the choir on their personal ministry through music as well. So, rather than hold it for Palm Sunday, I introduced it this fall, and invited the choir to make it our ministry theme for the year. They loved it! Then the Lord led me to invite Dana, a woman in our congregation who teaches the hearing impaired, to sign along with us as we sang it. Little did I know that she has especially loved doing this as a way to share Truth with some deaf friends. She helped us, but we also helped her by giving her this outlet for ministry.

Last Sunday, we offered "It's All About the Cross" in the worship service, right at the close of the service. As the choir and Dana finished, there were resounding "Amens!" from the congregation, as well as applause, not for us, but for the powerful testimony of the words.

"It's All About the Cross" by Ruth Elaine Schram

We read about creation, the world You made for us,
The beauty of the garden, sublime and glorious.
We read about the Fall when innocence was lost,
When innocence was lost.
We read of people's lives and the lessons that begin;
The consequence of evil, the wretched stain of sin;
And then, the Ten Commandments, the firm, unyielding Law,
The firm, unyielding Law.

It's all about the Cross,
And God's amazing grace,
To take us from the Fall to a Holy place!
To seek us in our helpless and fallen state,
To find us when we're lost;
It's all about the Cross!

And so, You sent a Saviour, the Lamb without a flaw,
To fully keep the letter and spirit of the Law;
To live a life that's holy, a life that pleases God.
And then the Spotless Lamb was the final sacrifice;
Our righteousness complete through the precious blood of Christ.
We finally see how far from your holiness we are,
How much we need the Cross!

It's all about the Cross, and God's amazing grace,
To take us from the Fall to a holy place!
To seek us in our helpless and fallen state,
To find us when we're lost;
It's all about the Cross!
Thank God for the Cross!

So, that's our ministry theme for the choral season. It's all about the Cross!

"When I came to you brothers, I did not come with eloquence or superior wisdom as I proclaimed to you the testimony about God. For I resolved to know nothing while I was with you except Jesus Christ, and him crucified. " (1 Cor.2:1-2)

9-11

Where were you?

I was standing at my crossing guard post, wearing my orange vest, holding my orange flags, waiting for the children. The sky was a spectacular September blue, air dry and beautifully cool. A day when I should pay the city to work as a crossing guard, instead of them paying me.

A little boy and his mother hurried toward me, a child I crossed every day, a mother I chatted with every day. They weren't smiling. "I was watching the news while we ate breakfast", she said. "A plane crashed into the World Trade Center in New York, and then, while they were showing that, another plane crashed into the other building, just a few minutes later!"

"Wow! That's so strange!" I responded. " The second plane's pilot must have been gawking at the first accident. That's just incredible!"

But the mom was shaking her head. "I don't know-I don't think it could be an accident."

But it was time to cross them. Then, after the last bell rang, I jogged home and ran down to the family room, calling out to my oldest son, "I've got to see the news. I heard there was some accident at the World Trade Center where planes flew into them!"

I flipped on the TV. There was footage of something burning heavily. Matt joined me. "That's the Pentagon!", we both exclaimed at the same time. "This can't be an accident. It must be an attack," Matt said. I was still processing the incomprehensible idea that our nation might be getting bombed by some enemy-but who? News reporters, speaking in flustered, rapid fire phrases, read from memos pouring in that there might be more, more planes headed for targets in the nation's capitol-wait, did all this damage to the Pentagon come from a plane? The picture returned to the scene at New York, two towers billowing black smoke into that also-perfect September blue sky. And then, as we watched, the anchorman's eyes widened and he began to shout "Where did it go? Where is it? It came down! Oh, my God, one of the towers just came down! There must be thousands of people killed!" I had never seen the national news network people break down, become human, respond with unfeigned emotion. A female TV journalist eventually stumbled onto the set, powdery dust masking the navy-blue professionalism of her suit. "I was just out there, I had to run, an officer pulled me to safety, or I would have died!" And she burst into tears.

We watched, riveted, the rest of the morning. Another plane was down, in a field in Pennsylvania. The second tower fell. The FAA was grounding all flights. Trains and buses were halted. Border crossings were closed. Fighter jets were scrambled-we heard those, roaring overhead, reassuring and yet not. On the TV, doctors and nurses paced outside of New York hospitals, waiting for the wounded, wondering why no one came. Locally, a call went out for blood donors.

Matt was trying to pack for his move to Northern Baptist Seminary, and watch the news at the same time. At one point, watching rescuers load the injured from the Pentagon into ambulances, he exclaimed "I'm not going to Seminary! I'm going to enlist in the Air Force!"

An honorable sentiment for a 22 year old. I talked him out of it-knowing it was just the emotion of the moment.

About noon I walked outside into my back yard. The day was so perfect, with it's cloudless sky (plane-less sky), it's gentle breeze, it's warm buzz of September insects. I should not have been hearing the insects at mid-day over our busy street's traffic roar. But there was no traffic. All was as still as if we lived miles out in the country. Everyone was inside, riveted by their TVs.

Three days later, we drove Matt up to the seminary. It was not an easy time to move away from home. He and his dad drove the U-Haul, while I drove the car. Another perfect September day, the sky an enormous azure bowl over the expanses of dun-colored corn stalks. I noticed that harvest was starting-I could see the dust rising from the distant combines. And, in every farm yard, flags. Even in the busy harvest season, no one was forgetting.

In a way, it's hard to remember what it was like before the attack, because we've changed, everything has changed, so much. We think differently now, about who we are as a people, how we feel about our safety. We've been united, then divided, by how to respond.

While we were living out all this at home, our third son, Paul, newly arrived at a Youth With A Mission base in Arkansas, was experiencing it among his new friends. A few days after the attack, while all of us were still struggling with the emotions produced by it, Paul helped set up a venue in Springdale, AK, for a Twyla Paris concert. Ms. Paris performs there every fall as a benefit for her hometown high school music program. That evening, she walked out on to the stage and sat down at the piano, and proceeded to play the powerful, driving worship song she had written-"God is in control. We believe that His children will not be forsaken". And she ministered to her wounded audience through the medium of music.

This blog is about life as worship. There are times when it seems that worship is the furthest thing from our hearts and minds. But with David the Songwriter we must say "I would have lost heart, unless I had believed that I would see the goodness of the Lord in the land of the living. Wait on the Lord; be of good courage, and He shall strengthen your heart; wait, I say, on the Lord!"

Control Issues

It's just been one of those weeks.

I was feeling very good about the start to the choir season, and felt like our new worship pianist was settling in well and starting to get us figured out. Then bam, life began to intervene!
My father had a stress test on Tuesday, which led to a heart catheterization on Thursday, which led to a quadruple bypass on Friday. Mom doesn't drive, and needs some other help, too, so of course I needed to help, and wanted to anyway. But as anyone who has been through this kind of family event knows, you can sometimes feel like a week just vanished from your life. That's how I'm feeling today.

Why are am I always so surprised by this? I had the same feeling last fall when a very confused six-point buck decided to charge through our front picture window, wreck our main floor, and then leave by another window. That was followed by a head-spinning few weeks of dealing with insurance claims, window companies, choosing new carpet and waiting for it to be installed (three days before Christmas was happening at my house!), all while trying to get the seasonal tasks done at the church. I thought I would lose my mind!

This morning, as I began to have a freakout about helping my parents, managing my job, and remaining available to my husband and children, I opened up my e-mail to find a beautiful devotional message from Nancy DeMoss about God as manager of the universe. I read the suggested passage, Psalm 104. And took a deep breath. I didn't have to know how to "do it all". God knows how. He runs the whole universe, without freakouts! I can lean on his everlasting arms and just move forward day by day in his strength.