And the Church Kept Singing
Halfway through the worship set, the sound cut out.
For a moment, it was actually quite funny. There was a loud pop, then suddenly all you could hear was a distant echo of the song. The slight strum from the acoustic guitar player's strings. The beat of the snare and the buzz of the trumpet, muted behind their plexiglass screens. The murmur of the lead singer's voice, barely carrying through the huge room.
The sound cut out, and the worship team kept playing.
And the Church kept singing.
The problem was fixed before the song was over. Almost as if it was planned, the worship team naturally began to crescendo, when suddenly the sound was back. As if there had been no problem at all, the worship team kept playing.
And the Church kept singing.
All was well--until it wasn't.
Halfway through the pastor's sermon, the sound cut out.
For a moment, it was actually quite funny. There was a loud pop, then suddenly all you could hear was a distant echo of his voice. He stood there, paused for half a second, and said, "I'm just going to keep preaching."
And the Church kept listening.
We listened as he told us the story of the gospel: how God, who thinks that everybody is worth something-- that everybody is somebody -- loved the world so much that He sent Someone to save all the someones from sin. We listened as he spoke of God's deep desire for all the somebodys of the world to meet that Someone, but that we need to help with the introductions. We listened as the importance of the gospel took a grip on our hearts, a group of 500 people in a room so quiet that you could practically hear one another breathing.
The sound cut out, and the pastor kept preaching.
And the Church kept listening.
The worship team went up when the sermon was over -- 10 people who had instruments that weren't amplified and voices that were not going to carry the way they "needed" to -- and they led us in worship.
In that moment, the lack of pomp and circumstance didn't matter. We didn't need the lyrics on the screen. We didn't need the electric guitar rifts in the background. We didn't even need to like the song, as my friends and I quickly discovered.
We just needed to worship.
It was an absolutely beautiful moment. It's easy, especially in our society, to pander to the need for perfection, the need to be entertained. In that moment that was, to be completely honest, a failure, all I could see was success. All I could hear was the sound of my brothers and sisters lifting up the Name that is above all names, the most important Someone there ever was. It was powerful. It was moving. It was worship at its best. The only thing that could have made it better, as the worship leader pointed out, was if we had a campfire.
It made me wonder, oh Church, what our response is when the "sound" cuts out in our life. Do we still sing? Do we still listen? Do we care about the show, or do we just worship?
I really hope to to look back one day at all the ups and downs that happen through life, and to be able to say:
Despite all of that, the Church kept singing.
For a moment, it was actually quite funny. There was a loud pop, then suddenly all you could hear was a distant echo of the song. The slight strum from the acoustic guitar player's strings. The beat of the snare and the buzz of the trumpet, muted behind their plexiglass screens. The murmur of the lead singer's voice, barely carrying through the huge room.
The sound cut out, and the worship team kept playing.
And the Church kept singing.
The problem was fixed before the song was over. Almost as if it was planned, the worship team naturally began to crescendo, when suddenly the sound was back. As if there had been no problem at all, the worship team kept playing.
And the Church kept singing.
All was well--until it wasn't.
Halfway through the pastor's sermon, the sound cut out.
For a moment, it was actually quite funny. There was a loud pop, then suddenly all you could hear was a distant echo of his voice. He stood there, paused for half a second, and said, "I'm just going to keep preaching."
And the Church kept listening.
We listened as he told us the story of the gospel: how God, who thinks that everybody is worth something-- that everybody is somebody -- loved the world so much that He sent Someone to save all the someones from sin. We listened as he spoke of God's deep desire for all the somebodys of the world to meet that Someone, but that we need to help with the introductions. We listened as the importance of the gospel took a grip on our hearts, a group of 500 people in a room so quiet that you could practically hear one another breathing.
The sound cut out, and the pastor kept preaching.
And the Church kept listening.
The worship team went up when the sermon was over -- 10 people who had instruments that weren't amplified and voices that were not going to carry the way they "needed" to -- and they led us in worship.
In that moment, the lack of pomp and circumstance didn't matter. We didn't need the lyrics on the screen. We didn't need the electric guitar rifts in the background. We didn't even need to like the song, as my friends and I quickly discovered.
We just needed to worship.
It was an absolutely beautiful moment. It's easy, especially in our society, to pander to the need for perfection, the need to be entertained. In that moment that was, to be completely honest, a failure, all I could see was success. All I could hear was the sound of my brothers and sisters lifting up the Name that is above all names, the most important Someone there ever was. It was powerful. It was moving. It was worship at its best. The only thing that could have made it better, as the worship leader pointed out, was if we had a campfire.
It made me wonder, oh Church, what our response is when the "sound" cuts out in our life. Do we still sing? Do we still listen? Do we care about the show, or do we just worship?
I really hope to to look back one day at all the ups and downs that happen through life, and to be able to say:
Despite all of that, the Church kept singing.
Every sound man's worst nightmare!
ReplyDeleteRight, Jim? They handled it with such grace, though! It was easily one of the best worship services I have been to.
DeleteWow! How beautiful. I cried. Thanks for sharing this. God continue to reveal his heart to you. Keep sharing.
ReplyDelete