Human Doings

After 12 weeks of in-between-employment, I really, really, REALLY miss leading worship. I miss musical aspects. I miss the relationships with those on the platform. I miss encouraging those in the rows out front. I miss the spiritual energy.

There are some wonderfully healthy reasons I miss it.

And there are some lingering, broken parts of me that miss it for less healthy reasons.

Let's have fun with the unhealthy ones. (I only offer to do that because I'm pretty sure it's the same for about 99% of us. And because I know you won't tell anyone about this; it'll be our secret.)

I miss leading worship because it's what I do. And what I do seems to determine who I am.

That's broken, right? I know. It's backwards.

It should be who I am that determines what I do.

And who I am is not a worship leader.

Who I am is a precious child of The Most High God. I am a friend of Jesus. I am a temple, in-dwelt by the Holy Spirit.

Not only that, I am husband to Jackie. As her husband, I am to love her outrageously and give myself up for her just like Jesus did for the church. (Ephesians 5:25)

Beyond that, I am daddy to Catherine and Emily. As their dad I am to love them outrageously. I am to "bring them up with the discipline and instruction that comes from the Lord." (Ephesians 6:4b)

But there's more. I am a member of the body of Christ. Chosen by God. Rescued by Jesus. Gifted by the Spirit.

I am not what I do.

I do what I am.

Yet I still miss leading worship. It's what God crafted me to do, gifted me to do, and anointed me to do. So I'm incomplete if I'm not doing what God "planned in advance for me to do." (Eph 2:10)

It just doesn't have to determine who I am.

Feel the tension? Feel like your swinging back and forth?

Me too.

The great news, and the news of which I need to keep reminding myself is that regardless of what I do I am God's son.

This all feels very human. Fallen. Broken. Beautiful. Fragile. Powerful. Emotional.

Yep. Human.

So I remember that I'm a human being, not a human doing.

And I try to remember that being without doing is about as useless as a screen door on a submarine. Thanks, Rich Mullins, for the indelible image and song.

Faith without works is like being without doing. It doesn't define us, it reveals us.

So be. Then do.

With God.