Two Turn Tables and a Microphone

This post isn’t for everyone. In fact, I can’t mandate it but I strongly recommend that overly sensitive soloists, choir directors and praise leaders exit stage left… now! I have questions that need answering. I’ve tried to figure this out on my own and with the help of other people. I’ve prayed without ceasing and looked for the lesson in the experience. I’ve taken a Freudian approach to determine what might have happened in my childhood that makes this particular experience so distressing to me. Yet I have found no answers. And, so I turn to you. The masses of congregants around the globe who suffer in silence each Sunday through the abominable racket of the selfish, spotlight-seeking singers who inflict pain in the name of the Lord. Those who sing songs so far off the musical mark that they no longer resemble the original work of art.

Pray with me if you would. It’ll only take a moment. Just a short prayer but I believe that if we all pray together we can make a difference. Let’s bow our heads, shall we?

Lord, we come before you today to thank you. To thank you for the ears that you have given us and the gift of hearing to accompany them. For, Lord, in your infinite wisdom you placed the ears in the perfect spot to allow us to enjoy the beautiful chirping of the birds you created, the wind rustling through the leaves, the roaring waves of the ocean and the joyous noise of the babies you have blessed us with. And, Lord, because of these ears we hear the sweet words of appreciation shared with us by our loved ones and the beautiful lyrics you so generously gifted the talented musicians serving in your kingdom. I thank you, O Lord, for all of the gifts these ears allow me to experience. And, I ask forgiveness. Forgive me, Father, for the hostility that rises up in me on a Sunday morning when I’m forced to sit and seethe in silence at the hands of my choral captors who sing for themselves but should probably not sing for anyone at all.

Lord, I thank you for my teeth and I beg forgiveness that I grind them down to wee little bits in the name of sanity as I endure the hour-long suffering of unpracticed and unnecessary praise. Lord, forgive my child for covering her ears and screaming out, “Make it stop! Please, God, make it stop!” For she knoweth not the time nor the hour that the suffering might end. Lord, we pray for the tone-deaf soloists for we know that although they sing in the key of Z, their hearts are in the right place. And, Lord, forgive them for what they did to Amazing Grace that Sunday. There was an American Idol marathon earlier that week and they knew not where reality ended and real worship began. I beg you, Lord, to help the anti-anxiety meds to kick in a smidgen earlier during service that I might begin zoning out during the microphone check and recover moments before The Word.

And, I ask you to move in the hearts of those whose giving is tied to the performance rather than the blessings you have given them. For we know that although praise and worship service is too often a most horrific racket and a nightmare at best, it is not intended to be a performance. Lord, I ask you to return those who have left the fold because they just couldn’t take it anymore. Touch their hearts, O Lord, and increase their threshold for pain that they might learn to endure the suffering once a month to start and then gradually work up to a full month of pain. Finally, Lord, I ask you to please remove the self-centered, glory-seeking, untrained, wholly unqualified ministers of music and replace them with persons who, first and foremost, love you and can also identify a music note, sing on key, stay on key, and restore grace and dignity to the choir stand.

Let the people say Amen.

Special thanks to El W. for going old school on Facebook the other day. Who knew it would inspire my post. And thanks to my husband for just letting me be me.