A time to join, a time to step away

Yes, the rumors are true. Wait, what's that? There's no rumors? Oh. Well then. That was awkward.

I guess I should just jump right in, then. Next month, I'll be stepping down from the worship team. (waits to finish until the probe droids return with care-o-meter readings)
Nobody cares. Okay, we're clear to proceed!

In the grand scheme of things, this is not all that relevant. The only reason I'm devoting a blog post to it is because not all that long ago, I wrote must-read prose about musical excellence in worship, and the lack of exclusivity between those two ideas.

Funny enough, it was soon after that where I realized that I wasn't living up to my end of the bargain. Sure, I played well enough. My technique was decent, and I was focusing on the Lord. But I realized that I wasn't really pursuing excellence. I never practiced outside of our worship band practices. I just came, put on my "I've played drums for like ten years, so I'll rest on those laurels", and went to town. And it seemed to be going fine. Felt good. Had fun. Lots of positive feedback.

A couple weeks ago, though, I just hit a wall. I played both services during the weekend and I might as well have been scraping gum off of chairs or uprooting dandelions. There was nothing. No connection. No feeling. And for a guy who tends to feed off of the emotional charge of the music, this was a big deal. It was like learning to walk while being blind at the same time.

I played a few more times after that, and it was the same thing. Playing music had become, for the first time in years, a chore. It wasn't coming easy. It was painful.

So I decided to quit the worship band.

Actually, it wasn't quite that simple. There were talks with Sara. Prayers. Contemplation. Maybe a ritualistic animal sacrifice or two. Actually, no animals were harmed in the making of this decision.

In the end, there were a few factors that played into my choice to step away from the (drum) throne.

1. A personal reason that I will not reveal. So don't ask.
2. The aforementioned inability (and really, lack of desire) to pursue my craft in a manner that I felt was befitting of a musician for the King of Heaven.
3. A new job that will have me working weekends.

Actually, that last reason happened after I had made the decision, and really just serves to give me a layman's justification for my action. Since making the decision solid and contacting the leader of the worship program at my church, I have felt at peace with my decision.

Will I miss it? I'm sure I will. I've played for over ten years, and have had lots of amazing experiences and great times. I've met wonderful people and shared much joy with them. In the end, I think that's the part I'll miss the most. The connection between fellow musicians, worshipers, and human beings. In the end though, the thought of missing something is not enough of a compelling reason for me to keep doing something that I feel I need to step away from.

Will I go back? I don't want to say never. I do enjoy playing drums, especially in the worship setting. But right now, I feel like my passions are different. My desires are changing. My focus, shifting. I'm walking into a new season of life, and as often is the case when there changes, there are things that stay on and things that fall off. Right now, music is not making the trip with me.

Pic- http://www.lofnz.com/care-bears/images/carebears-grumpys.jpeg

Pray against the music

Hello friends. It's been awhile, so let me give a brief refresher course on how I roll. I give you my own personal thoughts, opinions, insights, feelings, etc. I back up any claims I make with largely anecdotal evidence. You are then blown away by the persuasiveness of my arguments, the passion with which I write, and thus I break down the walls of your presupposition and convert you to whatever cause I might be championing in the moment. Everybody up to speed? Okay, good.

I've been processing the role of music in regards to our worship in the corporate setting- specifically, the fact that most of the worship bands I've been on spend pre-service prayer time basically praying against the music we are about to preform.

What I mean is, we pray things like "God, it doesn't matter if we play the wrong notes, we just want to worship you". Or, "Lord, the music doesn't matter, what matters is that our hearts are prostrate before you". Or, "Lord, please bless me with a brand new job and lots of money" Maybe not the last one. I've heard (and prayed) these same types of prayers hundreds of times over the past ten years. But when we do this- aren't we praying to separate the music from the worship? It's almost like we're trying to cast a demon out. We make the music a pariah- a necessary evil, something to be tolerated and not enjoyed or even embraced, in any way. I may or may not have stepped into the land of Hyperbole- but don't let my exaggeration keep you from chewing on a very interesting point.

I think a lot of it- for me, anyways, is this battle between pride and excellence. It's like you want to be very good at your instrument, putting in hours of practice time, playing along to songs, singing in the shower- while also being aware that God is not a big fan of pride. It is a fine line, for sure.

(Making assumptions) We want the music that we play to help people connect with God on a deeply emotional level. One of the ways that we know this happened is when people tell us we did a good job. I remember early on, when people would give me compliments on my drumming, I would feel uncomfortable. Not because I felt that I shouldn't be receiving compliments- but because I felt that I should. Heck yeah I did a good job- did you hear that sweet fill I did on Did You Feel The Mountains Tremble? You bet your a** that those mountains were shaking in their boots, baby! I tried the whole fake humility thing, but that's exactly what it was- fake. I believe that me and music being together is because of a stroke of divinity, so it's not like I was thinking I was this drumming big shot. But I also was the dude playing- angels weren't moving my arms, and I didn't have an out-of-body experience in the drum cage. Basically I had a season of tension between wanting to be a great drummer and not wanting anyone to affirm that.

A friend was able to help me out with this- she told me to picture the compliments like flowers. After accumulating a bouquet of 'flowers', I give those flowers to God. It's like when my kids give me a picture that they colored. I know they're showing me because they want me to be involved in what they're doing- they're proud of it, sure, but the only thing that matters to them in that moment is sharing their joy with me. Compliments on my drum work became the same thing. I gladly accepted all the praise and well-dones that were thrown at me, so that I could then share in those awesome moments with my Dad who made it all possible.

Anyhow, that's slightly off topic, but still relevant. It's relevant because I do not believe that musical excellence and spiritual attitude are mutually exclusive. I believe that we should try to make our songs sound as amazing as possible. Otherwise, why even practice? Why not just get up there on stage, with all of our spirituality, and just each worship in our own manner? Or why even have music at all?

I don't think that's the solution- because music is a very powerful medium, and definitely enhances the atmosphere. But I definitely don't want to hear a bunch of musicians going up there and doing their own thing (actually...that might be kind of interesting. Like watching a car accident, except nobody gets hurt or killed). I want cohesion. I want unity.

Our pastor talked today about faith without works being dead. I think the same thing applies to worship music- we can have a super-spiritual attitude about our worship music, and think all sorts of heavenly things about our worship music- but if we aren't applying those thoughts and attitudes to individual and group music greatness- then isn't our worship music dead? Maybe not dead- but slightly injured? Or not feeling well?

As Christian musicians, I believe that we've been given the incredible gift to use our musical talents to not only connect with God for ourselves, but to enable other people to reach deeper levels in their faith. I know that music is a tool and that it isn't the end product. But it's also not an outcast. We can prepare our hearts in such a manner that pursuit of musical excellence is not a hindrance to the Spirit- rather, that pursuit can enable the Spirit to move in even more power.