A Parable

A family was on vacation, hiking through a field. They stumbled upon recently disturbed dirt. Their younger child, a boy, just knew there was buried treasure. After begging and pleading (and maybe some bribing) he got permission from his parents to start digging.

It didn’t take long for his big sister to join the work. It seemed like it was taking forever, so dad pitched in. Finally mom gave up and joined them. It was hot. It was humid. It was afternoon. If they didn’t get to a treasure soon, it was gonna be time to give up.

About 20 minutes later someone heard a clunk. Excitement built. They all dug faster and harder. Before long they were looking at a stunningly beautiful box, about the size of a gallon of ice cream. The more dirt they brushed off, the more beautiful the box became. They looked. Honestly, they delighted. The box was stunning, glistening in the bright, hot sunlight.

Mom decided it was time to get back on the journey, so they decided to put the box back for the next traveler to find and enjoy. Of course the kids wanted to take it with them, but mom and dad were able to convince them that the land-owner was also the treasure box-owner, so they continued their hike, grateful for an adventure into beauty.

A second family happened upon the same field, not two days later. Except for the fact that both children were boys, the stories were nearly identical. Until the end.

The second dad decided it might be wise to open the treasure box and see what was on the inside. Having already been captivated by the beauty of the box, they were absolutely speechless at the sight of what was in it. The container was stunning; the contents were indescribable.

The family decided they should change jobs, schools, and everything else in their world to buy that field, build a home there, and have endless access to the treasure. 

What the first family missed out on, the second family was changed by. And all because the dad simply opened the box.

This parable is about worship. Most of us are enamored with the boxes. We marvel at the preaching, the music, even the people doing those things. We enjoy the wrapping so much we forget to pursue the treasure. Could we agree that we won’t stop with the container (worship) but pursue the treasure (Jesus)?

Here’s how He said it, “Seek the Kingdom of God above all else, and live righteously, and he will give you everything you need.” - Matthew 6:33 (NLT)

Oh look, a bird!

People follow people.

Worship leaders, that means people aren't following music, or screens, or hymnals, or bulletins. They're following you.

The amazing privileges we're given are to choose the path, and to lead people down that path.

Let me explain.

We might think of the order of service or the songs chosen as a path. People can walk that path, and you can shape the path they walk. You can choose to make it beautiful, adventurous, comforting, etc. As a worship designer, you pick the path they're invited to walk. That's a series of posts for another time. (Or a library of books on worship planning!)

But they don't have to walk on the path you've prepared for them. They can be spectators, watching others walk (or watching other watching others). They might walk part of the path and then decide to just sit down and not continue their journey. They might go off the path. They might spend so much time looking at the path they forget their destination.

And that's where you come in.

People follow people.

So I want to encourage you to lead them. You've laid out the path, now show them around. Bring them along. You don't need a lot of words to do that. But you do need a lot of preparation. Use the instruments to paint the lyrics. Use the screen backgrounds and lights and musical dynamics to do the same. When needed, offer a quick prompt: let's walk a little farther (procedural language) or look at that bird (directional language) or can you believe how God created such beauty (worship language). Use the Psalms. Use other great scripture passages. Sometimes 3 words or 2 sentences can re-engage the attender who has decided to sit out this part of the path.

Use your eyes to communicate. Which direction is the text your singing? Is it directed at God? Then look to Him. Is it directed at the congregation, then look at them. Is it directed at your own heart? Then maybe you should close your eyes for a moment. But not too long. Because they're following you, and when you close your eyes, you shut out those who are willing to be led.

People follow people.

So lead them. Shepherd them like David did, "with integrity of heart." Guide them down the path of your order of worship and deliver them directly to their destination, the feet of our Father. It's when they get there that they will find "mercy and help for their time of need." Seize the opportunity to direct people to the throne of grace.

Bricks

My pastor just finished a series on faith and science. Fascinating stuff. One of those sermons was about technology. It referenced the amazing innovation in Genesis we know as the "brick."

We learned it was this magic building block that made the Tower of Babel possible. Tim taught us that God destroyed the famous tower because the builders were creating something for themselves, not for their God. You may remember that the mandate given Adam and Eve was to "fill the earth." But the motivation of the tower builders was to "keep us from being scattered." It was an act of defiance. You can hear their selfishness: "Come, let’s build a great city for ourselves."

For ourselves.

And that's when I knew... God has sometimes destroyed the tower of my making because I did it for myself, not for Him.

Ever happen to you?

How about in your family life? My wife and I find ourselves digging out of debt because we defied the teaching of God and, without even asking His opinion, spent money we didn't yet have. (Have I mentioned that having your tower destroyed can be painful? Our debt qualifies.)

How about in the worship ministry you lead? Or other ministry? Are you doing what Christ's love compels you to do or what your opinion compels you to do. One approach will endure. The other will be shattered by our great God.

What about in the church as a whole? Do you seek the face of God, the word of God, and the counsel of God? Or do you contribute from a position of personal preference, even in defiance to the wisdom of the scriptures? Do you have people around you who will tell you the difference?

Self-centered towers keep us from the staggering blessings of God that accompany obedience.

Has God sometimes destroyed your "tower" because you built it for yourself--even those around you--but you didn't build it for Him?

If not, hallelujah! Learn from my sinful heart and don't let it happen. If so, confess and receive grace. Let's do better in the future than we've done in the past.

One more thing from the story. God will get his way. He's God. He does that. The end of the story (Genesis 11:9) says, "In this way he scattered them all over the world." Our sin, our defiance, our stubbornness, and our selfishness will not thwart the plan of God. He's too big. Too wise.

Maybe this is why we should think about how to scatter all over the world more than how to build a kingdom in our own town.

Maybe.

Answered prayer... really?

Like many who spend time on stage, I have long admitted (confessed, too) my struggle with the sin of arrogance. In fact, for more than a decade now I have been praying for God to "crucify the pride out of me." This plea was inspired by Galatians 2:20, "I have been crucified with Christ and I no longer live, but Christ lives in me. The life I now live in the body, I live by faith in the Son of God, who loved me and gave himself for me."

Looking back now, the fact that I would pray that in public was probably--almost certainly, really--an act of arrogance itself. I'm confident I said these things in the presence of other folks so they would think more highly of me. Sheesh! It's like pride on steroids!

Anyway... when I prayed that prayer, I didn't consider something. Crucifixion is to put to death. I sort of got that; it was really the point. I wanted--and still want--God to put to death all sin that's in my life. 

But crucifixion is also painful. Very painful.

How did I not see that coming? 

You see, God has been answering my prayer request. And for about four years my life was painful. My ego was not just bruised, it was tossed in a giant dryer tumbler and bounced around, colliding with the circumstances of life over and over and over.

In the fall of 2010, I was asked to leave a church because they couldn't afford to pay me anymore. I was humiliated. I imagine God was using that experience to answer my prayer.

In the summer of 2011, the church plant/relocation I was serving decided to close. I can see God used (not caused, but used) that experience to answer my prayer.

In the spring of 2012, the large, flagship church I was serving as interim decided that I shouldn't stay permanently. Again, God was crucifying the pride out of me.

Here's the surprise: it really hurt. The experiences of leaving those churches hurt, sure. In fact they hurt my family as deeply as they hurt me. Maybe more.

I'm just not sure why that didn't occur to me when I asked. I've read about, been moved to tears by, taught and preached about, just how painful crucifixion is.

And God has been crucifying the pride out of me.

Even as I write this, share this, I'm aware that I hope you'll read it and admire me. I almost didn't post it.

But I want my story to serve you more than I'm worried about whether you admire me, think me puffed up like a peacock, or think I'm just being goofy.

Consider what you pray for. Discern ahead of time what the answer might mean. And then pray with all of your heart for what God and you want.

While there's a lot of pride left in my heart, I also want you to know that God has been answering my prayer, my quest. In recent months the lessons have been far less painful. Indeed, this season of my life and ministry is one of unprecedented joy.

I can't help but wonder if there are little shadows of another verse of scripture in this season: "For the joy set before him he endured the cross." There's no comparison, seriously. But on the other side of crucifixion there always seems to be joy. After death, life. 

One more verse to wrap up: 

Crying may last for a night,
    but joy comes in the morning.

          --Psalm 30:5b

Ultimately, our God is a God of hope.

Shalom

One of my favorite things about reading familiar passages in the scriptures is how they grow deeper as we grow into Christ. We learn one thing, or maybe a handful of things, and then the scriptures open up all over again.

That happened for me this Easter. 

One of the things I've learned in the last few years is a fuller meaning of the word Shalom. Of course we know it means peace, and we know it is a traditional greeting among Jews. It has been for millenia.

But as the Jews in Jesus day understood it, Shalom was much deeper than peace. It was to bless someone with the peace of God, to wish upon them that they would find their steps, their very heartbeat, in rhythm with God's. Shalom is not the absence of conflict, but the fullness of God's presence. It is the world of humans before the fall, before sin entered the world. It is--at the same time--a vision of what heaven will be. 

Shalom is the peace that comes when all is right with your world.

And that's why, as our pastor read the story from John 20--casually mentioning that Jesus said "Shalom" to the disciples, I found myself so astounded.

Read it for yourself: "Though the doors were locked, Jesus came and stood among them and said.."

You guessed it. Shalom.

The death, burial and resurrection of Jesus Christ has made possible the Shalom the Jews had been anticipating for centuries. He didn't simply greet them in the traditional manner, He blessed them with "the way God wants things to be for you" with that single word.

The same Shalom that Jesus gave Thomas and the other disciples is available to us. What an incredible gift of the resurrection. 

Shalom, my friends.

Bad News

The Worship Ministry at Woodburn Baptist Church presented our Easter musical (The Story) a couple of weeks ago. That's not what the blog post is about, but it is important to the context of what you'll read.

It was a big production. Maybe the largest scale event this church has ever done. We offered three time options, opening room for 1,000 people to attend. (We had nearly 400 at our Christmas musical, which was amazing.)

And it was my first Easter musical as the church's worship pastor.

Starting a few weeks before the big weekend, bad news started rolling in. Some of it was personal. Some was about the production. Some was about people who were hoping to be in the choir. It was a little more bad news than the usual weeks leading up to the 20+ Easter musical events I've led. But it wasn't terrible.

Until the week before. 

On Monday and Tuesday I received not 2, not 3, not even 4, but 5 or 6 major pieces of bad news. People that had key roles in both preparation and presentation of the musical weren't able to keep their commitments. I was reeling. I'd done better than ever in my career at crossing the "T"s and dotting the "I"s, but that didn't seem to matter. 

Bad news, then more bad news, then just a little more on top of that.

Sensing the gravity of my world just days before the event? 

And then it happened. The phone call with the good news. It was really, really good news. It was personal, not professional. And it changed everything.

Everything.

So my thoughts turned to my role as a worship pastor. You may already be connecting the dots in your mind, but if not... here goes.

Every time we rehearse a group of people, someone has probably received a few pieces of bad news in the days leading up to that practice.

Without a doubt, every time we lead a group of people in worship there are a few, or several, or many, or most of those in the room who have been bombarded with bad news.

That's why we have to be people of the Good News.

I don't mean "happy clappy" and fake smiles. I don't mean we should ignore anguish and race to rejoicing. I mean that in the midst of the deep struggles of those we lead it is essential that we remind them: God is not only holy, and powerful, and majestic, and real, and eternal, and relevant... but that He is good.

And His goodness is what He wants for us.

Let me say it another way, if the gospel doesn't sound like good news, it isn't the gospel.

And forgive me if this goes too far, but if your worship services don't sound like good news, you may not be leading Christ-centered worship.

So let's make sure we find sounds and lyrics and images and people that effervesce with joy.  Honest joy. Godly joy. Transforming joy.

Let's be people of the Good News.

A Covering that Rocked My World

In Gary Molander's book, Pursuing Christ. Creating Art. he includes a chapter that has affected me deeply. After just a couple of introductory thoughts, I'll share the entire chapter. (with his permission)

1) This came at a point in my career where I was beginning to see this shift in my approach to ministry. I might have more to say about this in the coming weeks. I'm convinced it is centrally important to invite people to do things in the worship ministry because it serves them, not because it serves me. "Covering" was a nudge further down that path.

2) I have moved steadily and continuously down a path toward valuing people more than production, relationship more than results, and well-being over wow-factor. I have a long way to go.

These words may or may not be what you are expecting, but they helped me so much...

Covering
Gary Molander

I hate the word authority. Honestly, I do.

But I like the idea of someone providing a covering for me. I need a covering or two in my life. I suppose we all do.

In the Scriptures, anyone who has authority over someone else has the charge of providing a covering for them. 

All authority exists - at some level - to cover people.

That's the way God designed authorities in our lives. They cover us from injustice, they protect us from evil people, and they lead us to the wellspring of life. They confront us when we're on a path that's destroying us. They help us become bigger people. They lead us. You know you're under the right covering when you feel safe, a little uncomfortable, and growing.

And the only way we know how important these authoritative coverings are in our lives are when they're removed.

After my parents both passed in the last half of 2010, I was trying to wrap my brain around what my heart was feeling. I missed having them around, but my heart was feeling something far greater than that. There's something extremely sad about picking up the phone to call your mom, then realizing there's no one at the end of that line anymore. But that sadness was a symptom of something more, something deeper.

I discovered that the overwhelming sensation happening in my heart was simple. For the first time in my forty-six years...

I was uncovered.

You know that blanket you used to pull over your head when you were a kid? The blanket that protected you from the evils that only came out at night? With the death of both of my parents, I felt like someone pulled that blanket off. And they did it without my foreknowledge or permission. 

It just happened so quickly.

My parents were no longer on this earth with me. And it took their passing to help me realize just how much they provided a covering for me.

A covering that protected.

A covering that provided me with warmth in the cold. 

A covering that allowed me to try new things, without fear of failure.

A covering that helped me experience the Judeo-Christian God of the Bible as both a father, and a mother. 

You have undoubtedly served a client, a leader or a pastor who has provided this kind of covering for you. But you've also served someone who, rather than covering you, abused you and left you unprotected. They were selfish and blinded. They needed you to get what they wanted, and they quoted the right scripture to get it. 

I think that's why Jesus was so harsh with the Pharisees and the Religious Leaders. They were placed in a position of authority, but they didn't cover. They invited people into their kingdoms, but never offered them an entry key. The people collapsed under the weight of their leaders' expectations, and the leaders continued expecting even more. Their people were not covered.

They were exposed.

I'm left a little out of breath at this point. Somewhere in between the gospels and my own experience of abusive authority figures, I find myself asking...

What kind of covering am I providing my wife, my children, and my workmates?

It's easy to point to abusive authority figures in our own lives, and harbor resentment or bitterness or anger or hostility. That comes naturally for most artists, and it takes an intentional act of forgiveness to get past that stuff.

But we also need to become courageous enough to turn the finger-pointing back around in our own lives.

Do the people we have authority over feel covered, protected, and loved by us? Or are we achieving our own dreams, all the while using them to get there?

I wish I could have told my parents how appreciative I am of the covering they consistently provided. But I honestly didn't realize any of this until it was too late. 

And I have a feeling they're fine with that.