It was a Saturday night and I was spackling on my "stage make up", readying for another weekend of worship leading. (Side note: I love my job.) I had just dusted my eyelids with a soft salmon color from Sephora, and when I opened them to make sure they were even, I felt like I was looking into someone else's eyes.
They looked tired, weary even, as if they'd been fighting a battle and losing hope.
And they were. Fighting and losing. Or at least that's what it felt like.
I dabbed on extra concealer, curled my hair, lathered on some Chapstick and called it. There's only so much you can do ya know.
That particular weekend I was sharing before the song Forever Reign. It was new(er) to our congregation and as I reviewed my manuscript for my speaking portion, I couldn't hold back the tears.
"You are more You are more than my words will ever say, You are Lord, You are Lord, all creation will proclaim, You are here, You are here, in Your presence I'm made whole, You are God, You are God of all else I'm letting go."
These words have been true of me time after time and when I came to a place of surrendering control, I began to see God's hand at work in my life. I saw Him for who He was...I subconsciously worded it from a past tense perspective. As if to say, here's what I learned, now try to learn it too.
But I haven't learned it. It is not something I've mastered and I wept because I knew someone that weekend needed to know that. I wanted so bad to separate myself from what I knew my God was telling me to communicate. I wanted to be the identifier, not the identified.
But I did it anyway. I changed "came" to "come", "began" to "begin", "saw" to "see" and "He was" to "He is". I told them I was stuck in the midst of this very concept, too deep in to turn back, yet too far away from hope to swim faster. I was right there with them, whoever them was. It could have been anybody that day, that didn't matter. What mattered was that they knew they weren't alone and the girl who sings about freedom and hope and peace could relate with their bondage and despair and unrest.
Two months later, at a women's retreat, that someone found me. She came to me, with timidity and tears, and said, "When you spoke, a couple months ago about surrendering to God because of who He is to you, you eluded to your miscarriage and I heard it. It was brief but I know you said those words for me. I needed to hear that someone else felt what I was feeling and that they still worshipped God. But mostly, that I was going to be okay. Thank you."
As a worship leader, you may see a wide array facial expressions and hands in pockets, but you can't see the brokenness that is being mended inside the souls of those faces.
As a worship leader, you may think you're choosing a song or a verse or a hymn because it fits the right key or it's the newest, coolest thing, but you can't see how it is giving words to the groans in someone's spirit.
And this can ripple beyond the Sunday morning setting:
As a co-worker, you may be afraid of what your team mates might think of your encouragement, but you don't know how much they need it that day.
As a neighbor, you never know what a plate of cookies can do for the soul and happiness of a lonely widow(er) or single parent.
As a parent, you may feel like you are showing grace and love to a brick wall most of your adolescent's existence, but you can't predict what they'll remember when life thrashes them around.
As a spouse, the negative may be highlighted in your marriage right now, but you can't yet see just how much your unconditional love and purposeful kindness can change even the hardest of hearts.
Leading worship is more than a weekend gig when you let your church know you are real.
Being a Christian is more than a weekend gig when you let the world know you are real.
Ponder for the rest of the week: How can we be real this weekend?