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I write novels, eat dark chocolate, raise three children, love my husband, scrub toilets, ignore the laundry, and love a good story, but hardly ever in that order.



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Wednesday, January 16, 2013

The Perils of Worship Team, Part One

I'm developing a complex about going out in public. Specifically, to church. Specifically, when I sing on the worship team at church.

For those of you not hip to all the cheeseball verbiage we Christians employ, usually only around each other but as if everyone else in the world understands, "worship team" does not involve any athleticism or uniforms, but it does denote a group of musicians who lead songs during church services. This can refer to vocalists, guitars (acoustic and wild electric), piano, percussion, heck, even a drowned-out string player or flutist if we're feeling crazy. I love being a part of the group at my church and am awed by how talented they are, even if "team" has to be a part of the name. My high school principal ruined that word for me, as he used it not as in "volleyball" or "basketball," but as in Together Everybody Accomplishes More. Unfortunate, but totally ruined.

So I'm scared to go sing at church because I can't seem to keep it together. I'm not talking about losing it and crying in public, though I have a tendency to do that as well. Jesus brings freedom, and for me, that makes me cry. Ana loves staring at me and counting until the waterworks start. Again, no dignity in my life.

I'm talking about keeping my appearance on the up-and-up. A few weeks ago, for example, I wore navy tights with black shoes, mostly because musicians have to arrive at church in the darkness of early morning and I got dressed in that darkness. And also because I am becoming old and masculine and many old men have a hard time with the navy-black issue.
I have also struggled with words. Recently, my children about passed out laughing when I told them I'd massacred the lyrics to the communion song. Instead of "None too lost to be saved, none too broken or ashamed, all are welcome in this place," I sang (As a solo! And boldly!) "None too lost to be shaved, none too broken..."Yes, John the Baptizer, even you, are welcome at our church. Come now, shave later! Mercifully, only our sound man, Dale, had the gall felt the freedom to come up after the service and mock me. But Dale forgot I have a blog and that I could post this in retribution:
I hate to say, now that I'm thinking about it, I have a few more stories to share another day. You guys are so awesome. This is like free therapy! Thanks for listening. You remind me yet again, none are too lost to be saved/shaved, all are welcome in this place.


  1. The tights were not noticeable. Seth could ask you to do push-ups on stage next time. I love when you sing.

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  3. Can you please please sing when I am there?! Makila and I, aka the Costa Rican criers, haven't cried together in a few months.

  4. You just make me smile. As a part of a "team" hoping to lead others in worship - I totally relate - well okay not totally. I'm not into the solo work much. (Praise God) But my most wonderful husband and worship leader has a great affinity for changing words. It can be very interesting. The blessing is the Holy Spirit can be a filter and that's a GREAT thing! :)

  5. You are my most favorite person to listen to on a Subday morning. (maybe tied with Carol) Black and navy is a completely acceptable combination these days. For real.

  6. *Sunday

    seriously spell check?!?!?

    Saved. Shaved. Subday. Sunday. Potato. Potahto.

  7. i love you! navy and black are so in when worn together. :) i only wish i would have witnessed this solo...i'm going to make funny faces at you next time to try and get another goof out of you!