I love discovering things I’m good at.
Like eating…in private {in the wee hours of the morning}. Speaking…in public. Baking…oatmeal. Designing things with polka dots and swirls. Dancing to Owl City in my pajamas. Kissing boo boos. Writing deep thoughts about venison.
You know, the important stuff.
And as it turns out, I’m not too fond of not being good at stuff I do.
Especially when that “stuff” is done in front of others.
You know, like leading worship.
So the fact that I don’t really know what I’m doing {read: have no leadership experience in this area, in fact…I’ve never even been a formal part of a band}…I don’t speak the music “language”…haven’t a clue what’s going on the technical side of things {amp what?}…don’t really sing all that well {“choir glue”, I believe is what it’s called}…and only tinker on the keyboard, are a natural recipe for audible disaster.
Or rather, heart-naked humility.
And it’s downright uncomfortable.
I want to sound fabulous…talented…astonishingly gifted. Naturally.
Like the people who have been doing it for years do.
And then God gently nudges my heart and asks…
”so who are you doing this for anyway?”
I seem to forget that He enjoys using the weak, the unorthodox, the outcast, the rough-around-the-edges-fisherman, to work through. The unlikely are His favorite.
So, despite feeling so horribly inadequate in this role, I press in and press on because it’s what I feel God has called me to right now. And because ultimately, that’s all that matters.
And…because I can’t not be struck by the delightful beauty of worshipping with reckless abandon when my little lamb climbs up on the coffee table {in half of her pajamas} and belts out, in a cacophony of wrong notes sweet sounds, just how much she loves her Jesus.
That’s true worship, after all.
Love. Lived. Aloud.
Before an audience of one.
{But I’ll wear my pants to church}
“Shout for joy to the Lord, all the earth, burst into jubilant song with music”
Psalm 98:4
