Frankly Speaking

I’m on the worship team at my church. It’s really fun, but it’s also something our worship pastor and everyone on our team takes seriously. It’s not a concert or a talent showcase, you know?

One of my weaknesses is that I know I can sing, and I like the attention I get. (That’s really, really hard to admit.) When I sing there’s this weird battle going on between my natural self and my spirit. My natural self desperately wants to be noticed; my spirit wants God to be noticed through my singing. This inner battle used to make me feel like a “bad Christian.” (Still does sometimes, if I’m not careful.)

Around August 2006 I began to sense God asking me to take a break from the stage. I immediately obeyed (tongue in cheek here), and in January 2007 I began a 6-month sabbatical. I thought God wanted me to make sure I was on the stage for the right reasons; therefore, I decided my hiatus would be a period of serious reflection and re-acquaintance with God; I would read books about worship and get up early to spend time in the Bible. I would reholify myself.

It was hard at first. I continued to serve on other teams, but both were “behind the scenes” ministries. So I went from the height of recognition to the depths of anonymity, from serving in the very front (where everyone saw me) to the very back (where few bothered to even glance). Suddenly I felt invisible and unknown. I wasn’t used to it. I didn’t like it. It’s hard to admit I felt that way. But as time went on, I settled into the quiet. I no longer needed to be on stage to feel secure about my place on the worship team. The time came when I could be satisfied if I never returned.

I hadn’t been as diligent about my reholification as I’d planned, however. I never finished the book my worship pastor recommended. I often fell asleep reading the Bible early in the morning. Sadly, God doesn’t give Biblical revelation by osmosis.

When the 6 months had passed, I prayed about returning to the team. Despite my lack of spiritual growth, I felt God was okay with it. I didn’t understand why then, but I think I do now. Here’s what I’ve learned:

God doesn’t require me to be flawless. If I could be absolutely sinless, there would’ve been no need for Jesus to die on the cross to pay for my sins. This is God’s grace, and it–through faith–makes possible my relationship with God.

I’ve wasted so much time contemplating how unworthy I am for any good thing I have or could want. I’m judgmental, lazy, impatient, loud, and much more. Whenever I fell short, I’d beat myself up and question how God could possibly love me. But He’s been showing me He does love me and that He’s not waiting for me to “act right.” In fact:

God’s strength is on display in my weaknesses. Again, if I was perfectly strong, I wouldn’t need Jesus. But I do … so why do I think I need to be strong all the time?

I heard a story in my Crown Financial class: A man purchased a new car, and two weeks later someone dented it. He responded, “I don’t know why God wants a dent in His new car, but so be it.” It was God’s car; he was only its steward. Why stress over a dent?

When Paul asked God to take away a weakness, God responded, “My grace is sufficient for you, for My strength is made perfect in weakness.” From that moment forward Paul saw all his weaknesses as opportunities to show off God’s strength (read it yourself).

In the same way, God gave me a gift to steward, despite my “dents.” He chose to display His character through me and my imperfections. This melts my heart with gratitude and love. It also helps me to be patient with myself.

When I stepped down, I thought I was starting a journey that would end on June 30. That day came and went, and I felt like I hadn’t gone anywhere. But as my pastor and others often say, the journey is the destination. I wasn’t traveling from January to June; I was leaving a wrong belief to arrive at a correct one. Even though I didn’t feel like I was going anywhere, when I look back I can see how far I’ve come. And I don’t think I would have gone anywhere if I hadn’t obeyed in the first place. (I could’ve been there, like, 4 months earlier if I’d obeyed right away!)

I’ll probably always crave that attention (who doesn’t), but it only reminds me how much I need my Savior. It doesn’t diminish my value to Him. God made me to sing, so I’m going to do it, and God’s going to get the credit for it, and it’s all going to happen despite my shortcomings.

I realize that I don’t have what it takes. I can will it, but I can’t do it. I decide to do good, but I don’t really do it; I decide not to do bad, but then I do it anyway. My decisions, such as they are, don’t result in actions. Something has gone wrong deep within me and gets the better of me every time. It happens so regularly that it’s predictable. The moment I decide to do good, sin is there to trip me up. I truly delight in God’s commands, but it’s pretty obvious that not all of me joins in that delight. Parts of me covertly rebel, and just when I least expect it, they take charge. I’ve tried everything and nothing helps. I’m at the end of my rope. Is there no one who can do anything for me? Isn’t that the real question? The answer, thank God, is that Jesus Christ can and does. He acted to set things right in this life of contradictions where I want to serve God with all my heart and mind, but am pulled by the influences of sin to do something totally different. (Romans 7:18-25 The Message).