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Talent’s Not Enough

   I invited a non-Christian friend of mine, who had rarely if ever been to a church, to my Sunday service once. After the service, I asked him how he liked it. I’ll never forget his response.

   “Here’s my ‘review’ of this morning: I liked the sermon ok, but I really enjoyed the ‘warm-up act’ before most of all!” 

   He was dead serious. He didn’t understand the purpose of the music at all, other than to prep folks for the ‘headliner’ who’d deliver the sermon. To him, it was all entertainment. And when you think about it, that’s how someone who is unsaved probably would see it. He didn’t come that day expecting to encounter a real God, he simply saw the whole thing as “religious entertainment”.

   The sad problem is that’s all some of God’s people think the worship music is supposed to be. Just a warm up for the main event. Something enjoyable that might move us, but nothing that might change us. And they see the “worship leader” as nothing more than a Christian entertainer.

   When you look at church that way, it’s no wonder people with musical gifts see worship services as nothing more than an opportunity to show off what they can do. Sunday morning is a talent show, and they’re ready to take the stage and wow us. The only problem with that is God has a completely different idea of what a worship leader should be…

   …and He absolutely refuses to give His blessing to anything less!

   Some of this is a fault in the training of our worship leaders. As churches have moved farther away from a seminary-trained Music Minister and more to part-time personnel, the Biblical paradigm of worship ministry has fallen by the wayside. Some have been trained musically, but not theologically. And because of this error, we have attracted more performers than worshippers onto the platforms of our churches.

   I believe it’s time we clearly define what a worship leader should be, and what qualifications should be held up as an example to follow.

Worship Leaders are important to God

    If God has called you to be a music minister, or to sing a solo in church, or even to just sing in the choir, you need to know that you have a noble calling.  God never meant the worship leader to merely be the Doctor Feelgood of the church. 

   I was reading in I Chronicles 25, where King David was putting his kingdom in order for the eventual passing of the crown to his son Solomon.  Some of his priorities in this pivotal time were to prepare for the building of the Temple by his son, and to take stock of the nation’s military defense. But there in chapter 25, he seems to stray off track. King David and some of his leaders are picking out the choir and orchestra members!  

   Most church music ministries would not seem worthy of the time and attention of a nation’s Commander in Chief. And yet King David himself was working on it, along with his top advisers. Clearly, David saw worship leading as a priority in a way that few churches see it today.

Worship Leaders are Preaching Through Music

    But I was surprised by another detail.  The first, second, and third verses of that chapter do not refer to the musicians as volunteers who “play” their instruments, but as appointees that must “prophecy” with music!  In the Bible, those with the gift of “prophesy” are called to boldly proclaim forth the truth of God’s Word.  In verse 3, it mentions that Jeduthun “prophesied with a harp to give thanks and to praise the Lord.”  Other translations say that he accompanied himself as he prophesied, which sounds to me like he was singing to instrumental accompaniment.  I am no theologian, but the term “to prophecy” sounds pretty much like the same proclaiming of truth that the word “preaching” implies.

    God has indeed called me to “preach the Gospel”… but to preach it with music! I truly don’t believe He ever intended church music programs to be the mere entertainment many have become. Music should not just calm and soothe, it should also convict and challenge at times.  Just one listen to the prophetic music of the late Keith Green would tell you that God can convict through a sermon in song as well as through a sermon in spoken words. 

   In fact, the passage in I Chronicles 25 would include what we worship leaders do as a high-level spiritual activity, since they were said to be “prophesying” on their instruments. In the choir and praise team, we are called in essence to be “preachers” of the Word with our singing voices and our instruments. Our “preaching” can evidence the same power of the Holy Spirit that we see changing hearts later in our pastor’s spoken Word.

Worship Leaders must be COMMITTED

    I’ve occasionally had people say they were thinking about joining the choir, but when they realized the amount of commitment I expected from them they decided to pass on it. While I hate for them to miss the tremendous fellowship we have, I don’t regret their decision not to join. To be in our choir or orchestra should be, by definition, a “high calling”. If you are in front of a congregation each Sunday, you should have a higher level of commitment than your average church attender.

   Speaking of “attenders”, coming to church regularly is an entry-level requirement for worship leaders. If you are unwilling to attend services, you lack the spiritual maturity to lead worship. Each week, what we do in our worship services is the spiritual equivalent of what a soldier does in the heat of battle. But instead of fighting to take ground, you are fighting to take back people’s souls!

   Commitment to rehearsals is also a non-negotiable. We all deal with unexpected sicknesses and travel, but being engaged at regular rehearsals is a must. If you are not willing to put in the work, you do not take worship leading seriously. Notice that Psalm 33: 3 says we are to “play skillfully”. In order to do that, you must work and rehearse. And I believe God will not empower an uncommitted yet talented vocalist the same way He will someone who has made worship a priority.

   Bottom line: if we want Him to bless our worship, we’d better be willing to put in the work!

Worship Leaders live HOLY LIVES    

    As a musician, I’ve had the privilege to work with some incredibly talented people. I’ve been musical director for Broadway veterans and played in wonderful orchestras. So honestly, I’m no longer that impressed with mere talent. 

   But one of the saddest things I’ve noticed is singers and musicians who make their living performing Christian music in churches, but whose lives do not reflect Christians values. I’ve also noticed some regular church members who think their spiritual life, or lack of it, didn’t affect them as a worship leader. They felt qualified to step onto a platform and lead, even when living a lukewarm life of compromise. 

   How in the world could they feel qualified to lead when living an uncommitted life? Quite simply, they believed all that mattered was their talent.

   Of course, none of us is perfect. We all lead out of brokenness as imperfect vessels. However, that is quite different from living in open, unrepentant sin. I’ve had worship team members whom were engaging in premarital sex, abusing illegal substances, and mistreating their spouses…yet they were shocked when I suggested they should step out of ministry and let God change their lives. They seemed to think their talent made them indispensable. The sad truth was their sin actually made them temporarily unusable to the Holy Spirit.

   When we lead worship, we want something to happen that is more than just the sum of our combined musical gifts. We want God to take our musical offering, whether humble or well-polished, and add his spiritual anointing to it. That anointing gives worship power beyond just affecting the congregation emotionally. God’s anointing gives worship the power to actually spiritual transform the lives of people in our services. 

   God is not at all impressed with our talents or with religious spectacles:

“I hate, I despise your religious festivals;
    your assemblies are a stench to me.
Even though you bring me burnt offerings and grain offerings,
    I will not accept them.
Though you bring choice fellowship offerings,
    I will have no regard for them.
Away with the noise of your songs!
    I will not listen to the music of your harps.
But let justice roll on like a river,
    righteousness like a never-failing stream!”

Amos 5:21-24

   While we give God our religious version of America’s Got Talent, He will only accept justice and righteousness.

   With God’s anointing on us, our worship can work wonders. But with unrepentant sin in our hearts, God will refuse to work through us. Our services will be nothing more than religious entertainment. The results will be only what we can do in our own strength. Lives won’t be changed, miracles won’t happen. 

   We will be like the Holy of Holies in the Temple of Jesus’ day – looking great on the outside, but behind the curtain there’s no Spirit of God resting on the Ark of the Covenant. All the religious trappings, but those trappings merely cover the fact God is actually nowhere near them.

   So understand, my friends, when you walk out on the risers or play in the band this Sunday, you are not entertainers, you are not musicians, you are not just the “spoonful of sugar” that helps the message go down.  You are warriors and preachers and prophets, and you have a holy calling!  Don’t ever sell yourself short, and don’t ever strive to be anything less!

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Our dream house was a 120-year old 3-story Victorian home. It was just a few blocks away from one of the loveliest parks in the city and the same distance from the church I pastored. I could literally walk to work, and did so on many mornings. How convenient!

Unlike the other brick houses that lined the streets nearby, this one was painted light yellow and stood apart from the rest. Plaster reliefs of baby angels wrapped around the base of the house. They represented the children of the original owners, making the structure even more unique. It also had a three-car garage at the back of it. Few houses in this older section of town had one as large, and many people resorted to parking on the street. But not us! On just an average salary, we had bought one of the nicest places to live in the area. 

I had always dreamed of owning a Victorian home. I had performed the role of Prof. Henry Higgins from the musical My Fair Lady right before we moved to our new city. So I was primed to live the life of the English gentleman, sipping tea in my beautiful old house. I loved the old wood, the stained glass windows, and our “penthouse suite” for my wife and me on the top floor. We’d be sequestered away from the noise of our little girls playing below us. It all seemed so ideal.

But it turned out to be anything but ideal. Our “Golden House”, as our little girls came to call it, was not so golden. In fact, our dream house almost killed us, quite literally. 

One afternoon I got a call at the church. It was Dawn, my wife, and she was sobbing hysterically. Finally I was able to make out enough of her words to understand what was happening.

“I fell…come home!”

Almost 20 years ago, my wife had been in a bad car accident that crushed her right leg. That ankle couldn’t turn at all. So as I ran the 5 blocks to my home, I knew what had happened.

When I got to the house, I found Dawn in the basement. She was headed to the washer and drier there, and had misjudged a step going down. She hit the concrete floor hard.

After getting her to the hospital, thankfully we learned nothing had been broken. However, that would be just the first of several falls for Dawn down those steps. We eventually moved the washer and drier up to the second floor, which helped a little. But the bottom line was a three-story house with narrow stairways were not meant for a woman who had challenges with mobility.

I also learned having your bedroom on the third-floor is not a good idea for a chubby guy in his mid-50s. There were a few days I wondered if I’d still be alive by the time I reached the top floor. Though I began on the stairway to the bedroom, I might end up on the stairway to heaven…

Then there was the city. Dawn and I always loved culture, restaurants, theater and all the things a great city has to offer. So living there, we felt like kids in a candy store. There was always some new restaurant to explore, always a show playing somewhere, and interesting people living all around us. It seemed ideal.

Except for crime. And taxes. Many cities are big on those, and ours was no exception. We had both in abundance.

One of our regular nightly diversions was watching the notifications on our community’s “Next Door App” alert us to all the recent shootings and hold-ups around us. One of us would hear gunshots, and I’d watch for the posts to pop up. I’d then calculate how close it was to our home. Many were within just a few blocks, some just down the street. 

We would occasionally get notices of some tax we hadn’t paid. Usually, we neglected to pay because the city had neglected to ever send a bill. Then one day, you get a notice you’re being sent to a collections agency, even though you still hadn’t received a bill yourself. 

Once we got a bill for trash pick-up. We were confused because we paid a refuse bill on time every month. But a lady on the phone informed us what we had paid was in fact only the garbage bill. There was completely different bill that was a tax for just having trash pick up available to us in the city. This bill was paying for the “possibility” our trash might be picked up. No kidding.

I’m sure they’re still probably working on a way to collect a tax on our taxes. 

All of this added together was a painful lesson on the difference between perception and reality. After we first moved to that city and were still living in an apartment, I walked down those very streets and fantasized about how wonderful living there would be. When we found the Golden House, we rejoiced and basically cried out, “Here, take our money” to the realtor. 

But the view from the outside of a situation is always much different from the inside. Nothing is ever quite what you expect…with houses, or with life.

The problem with so many of the things we want is it’s too often based on an illusion. We think a thing, a person, or a situation will bring happiness. But happiness is never found in those things outside of us.

Real happiness only happens from the inside out.

There’s an old fashioned Bible word for this foolishness: covetousness. The prohibition against coveting is actually the 10th and final commandment. It’s easily skimmed over in favor of the more R-rated commandments against murder or adultery. Simply wanting your neighbors stuff as opposed to stealing it or killing for it seems like no big deal in comparison.

But coveting is like a powerful drug. The addict never gets enough. Once he gets that one thing he’s obsessed over, he’s disappointed to realize it doesn’t fulfill his needs and he moves on to something more. The new car he’d wanted all his life now sits in the garage most days. She can’t even remember why she bought that purse now. That’s how coveting works: whatever you get, it’s never enough. You’re always left wanting something else, and even more addicted to your desires.

Whatever my eyes desired I did not keep from them. I did not withhold my heart from any pleasure, for my heart rejoiced in all my labor; And this was my reward from all my labor. Then I looked on all the works that my hands had done and on the labor in which I had toiled; And indeed all was vanity and grasping for the wind. There was no profit under the sun. - Ecclesiastes 2:10-11

Take care, and be on your guard against all covetousness, for one's life does not consist in the abundance of his possessions. - Luke 12:15

There was nothing wrong with us wanting a house. But it was very wrong of me to think that it would bring us so much happiness on its own. The ideal life and fulfillment I was expecting from a house was unreasonable. 

That kind of happiness only comes from God’s address, not mine.

Inevitably, we become like kids on the day after Christmas. We’ve opened every package, played with every toy, and we’re already bored with them. The newness wore off in a day, all because we were expecting too much from them to begin with.

Most homes stop being dream houses the minute we walk into them. Reality inevitably sets in, and the “house porn” on the realtor’s website is now just a bunch of plaster and dry wall. 

We finally made it out of our dream house before it killed us. No, we didn't run screaming from it in the middle of the night like in the Shining or the Amityville Horror. When we left, it did take quite a bite out of our finances, and we had to sell for quite a bit less than we'd paid. But the wound was worth it for the lesson we learned.

We’re in a new place now, in a much smaller city. We’re renting a little one-story house we’re hoping to buy soon. We're in a little neighborhood where we hardly ever lock our front door. It's pretty boring compared to city life, but that’s just fine with me.

I’ve discovered what really makes a “dream house”. The dream is not the house, it’s the people you put in it. Regardless of the size or location, those people are what makes life worthwhile. 

Everything else is just a dream. And all that glitters is not a golden house.

Our dream house was a 120-year old 3-story Victorian home. It was just a few blocks away from one of the loveliest parks in the city and the same distance from the church I pastored. I could literally walk to work, and did so on many mornings. How convenient!

Unlike the other brick houses that lined the streets nearby, this one was painted light yellow and stood apart from the rest. Plaster reliefs of baby angels wrapped around the base of the house. They represented the children of the original owners, making the structure even more unique. It also had a three-car garage at the back of it. Few houses in this older section of town had one as large, and many people resorted to parking on the street. But not us! On just an average salary, we had bought one of the nicest places to live in the area. 

I had always dreamed of owning a Victorian home. I had performed the role of Prof. Henry Higgins from the musical My Fair Lady right before we moved to our new city. So I was primed to live the life of the English gentleman, sipping tea in my beautiful old house. I loved the old wood, the stained glass windows, and our “penthouse suite” for my wife and me on the top floor. We’d be sequestered away from the noise of our little girls playing below us. It all seemed so ideal.

But it turned out to be anything but ideal. Our “Golden House”, as our little girls came to call it, was not so golden. In fact, our dream house almost killed us, quite literally. 

One afternoon I got a call at the church. It was Dawn, my wife, and she was sobbing hysterically. Finally I was able to make out enough of her words to understand what was happening.

“I fell…come home!”

Almost 20 years ago, my wife had been in a bad car accident that crushed her right leg. That ankle couldn’t turn at all. So as I ran the 5 blocks to my home, I knew what had happened.

When I got to the house, I found Dawn in the basement. She was headed to the washer and drier there, and had misjudged a step going down. She hit the concrete floor hard.

After getting her to the hospital, thankfully we learned nothing had been broken. However, that would be just the first of several falls for Dawn down those steps. We eventually moved the washer and drier up to the second floor, which helped a little. But the bottom line was a three-story house with narrow stairways were not meant for a woman who had challenges with mobility.

I also learned having your bedroom on the third-floor is not a good idea for a chubby guy in his mid-50s. There were a few days I wondered if I’d still be alive by the time I reached the top floor. Though I began on the stairway to the bedroom, I might end up on the stairway to heaven…

Then there was the city. Dawn and I always loved culture, restaurants, theater and all the things a great city has to offer. So living there, we felt like kids in a candy store. There was always some new restaurant to explore, always a show playing somewhere, and interesting people living all around us. It seemed ideal.

Except for crime. And taxes. Many cities are big on those, and ours was no exception. We had both in abundance.

One of our regular nightly diversions was watching the notifications on our community’s “Next Door App” alert us to all the recent shootings and hold-ups around us. One of us would hear gunshots, and I’d watch for the posts to pop up. I’d then calculate how close it was to our home. Many were within just a few blocks, some just down the street. 

We would occasionally get notices of some tax we hadn’t paid. Usually, we neglected to pay because the city had neglected to ever send a bill. Then one day, you get a notice you’re being sent to a collections agency, even though you still hadn’t received a bill yourself. 

Once we got a bill for trash pick-up. We were confused because we paid a refuse bill on time every month. But a lady on the phone informed us what we had paid was in fact only the garbage bill. There was completely different bill that was a tax for just having trash pick up available to us in the city. This bill was paying for the “possibility” our trash might be picked up. No kidding.

I’m sure they’re still probably working on a way to collect a tax on our taxes. 

All of this added together was a painful lesson on the difference between perception and reality. After we first moved to that city and were still living in an apartment, I walked down those very streets and fantasized about how wonderful living there would be. When we found the Golden House, we rejoiced and basically cried out, “Here, take our money” to the realtor. 

But the view from the outside of a situation is always much different from the inside. Nothing is ever quite what you expect…with houses, or with life.

The problem with so many of the things we want is it’s too often based on an illusion. We think a thing, a person, or a situation will bring happiness. But happiness is never found in those things outside of us.

Real happiness only happens from the inside out.

There’s an old fashioned Bible word for this foolishness: covetousness. The prohibition against coveting is actually the 10th and final commandment. It’s easily skimmed over in favor of the more R-rated commandments against murder or adultery. Simply wanting your neighbors stuff as opposed to stealing it or killing for it seems like no big deal in comparison.

But coveting is like a powerful drug. The addict never gets enough. Once he gets that one thing he’s obsessed over, he’s disappointed to realize it doesn’t fulfill his needs and he moves on to something more. The new car he’d wanted all his life now sits in the garage most days. She can’t even remember why she bought that purse now. That’s how coveting works: whatever you get, it’s never enough. You’re always left wanting something else, and even more addicted to your desires.

Whatever my eyes desired I did not keep from them. I did not withhold my heart from any pleasure, for my heart rejoiced in all my labor; And this was my reward from all my labor. Then I looked on all the works that my hands had done and on the labor in which I had toiled; And indeed all was vanity and grasping for the wind. There was no profit under the sun. - Ecclesiastes 2:10-11

Take care, and be on your guard against all covetousness, for one's life does not consist in the abundance of his possessions. - Luke 12:15

There was nothing wrong with us wanting a house. But it was very wrong of me to think that it would bring us so much happiness on its own. The ideal life and fulfillment I was expecting from a house was unreasonable. 

That kind of happiness only comes from God’s address, not mine.

Inevitably, we become like kids on the day after Christmas. We’ve opened every package, played with every toy, and we’re already bored with them. The newness wore off in a day, all because we were expecting too much from them to begin with.

Most homes stop being dream houses the minute we walk into them. Reality inevitably sets in, and the “house porn” on the realtor’s website is now just a bunch of plaster and dry wall. 

We finally made it out of our dream house before it killed us. No, we didn't run screaming from it in the middle of the night like in the Shining or the Amityville Horror. When we left, it did take quite a bite out of our finances, and we had to sell for quite a bit less than we'd paid. But the wound was worth it for the lesson we learned.

We’re in a new place now, in a much smaller city. We’re renting a little one-story house we’re hoping to buy soon. We're in a little neighborhood where we hardly ever lock our front door. It's pretty boring compared to city life, but that’s just fine with me.

I’ve discovered what really makes a “dream house”. The dream is not the house, it’s the people you put in it. Regardless of the size or location, those people are what makes life worthwhile. 

Everything else is just a dream. And all that glitters is not a golden house.