March 18: What I Have Learned About Worship

As a church organist and worship leader, I have learned a few things about worship.  I have been in this ministry for going on 30 years.  I've had members of congregations praise me and condemn me.  I've received anonymous letters, telling me I'm a horrible musician and father.  I've worked with a variety of priests and pastors (Catholic and Methodist), and I've learned to adapt to their various beliefs and styles.  I've had an irate woman accost me after a worship service, fairly shaking with anger.

I've also seen entire congregations, filled with the Holy Spirit, raising arms and voices in praise.  I've heard speakers deliver messages so moving that they've left me breathless and weeping.  I've felt the finger of God touch me through song and music.  People have hugged me, kissed me, after worship services.  They've sent me cards and letters of thanks.

Yes, I've pretty much seen it all in my almost three decades of worship.

The best worship teacher I ever had, however, was my sister, Rose.  She is two years older than me and has Down's syndrome.  And she loves to sing.  From the first time I sat on the bench of a church pipe organ and played a hymn, Rose has loved to sing.  Every Sunday, she would be in the choir loft, singing at the top of her lungs, her face full of joy.  There's only one problem:  Rose can't stay on pitch or key.  If I'm playing a song in D Major, Rose is singing in F Major.  If the song is supposed to be quiet and contemplative, Rose is singing like Beverly Sills at the Metropolitan Opera.

For my first ten or so years as an organist, my sister's contribution to worship used to bother me.  I'd tell her to sing quieter or not at all.  Each time she opened her mouth, I'd sit at the organ, cringing.

Then, one morning, I watched my mother as Rose sang a song in church.  Rose was in full voice, loud as a flock of geese.  My mother listened to her sing, and my mother's face looked as if she were listening to Gabriel and the heavenly host on Christmas Eve.

I realized that day that I had been doing things all wrong.  I was striving for beauty and perfection in worship.  God doesn't care about that.  He doesn't care what we sing or how we sing.  He doesn't care where we sit in the choir loft or whether we play an organ or drums.  Worship isn't about me or you.  It's not about traditional or contemporary.  Or "Jesus Loves Me" versus "Jesus Messiah."  Worship is about One and for One only.

My sister Rose was singing for that One, and He was smiling down on her.

Saint Marty knows that's true worship.  Authentic worship.  One worship.

Do you get it?