twister

So we did some song workshop time this week. The best part of the whole day: I didn't have to share. There's something about sharing song lyrics that makes me feel like I should attach a ten page essay apologizing and assuring the reader that I do in fact have half a clue about the content of the song. I am, of course, so blessed to have some phenomenally talented friends around me; they consistently inspire this derelict consciousness especially when they aren't intending to make any impact. 

That's about all I have. This entry is already ten times longer than my current song project, which I really should try to finish. 

trimming the fat

I find great beauty in the way a person can take an idea, a story, and from it draw conclusions and find applications that can alter the way we live our lives, or at least shift our perspectives on the journey. To see the big picture, the grand scheme, and craft a narrative palatable to your listeners in both scope and pace. To withhold and to hint, letting both detail and lack articulate routes that to follow. This is not easy. It takes practice and patience and skill. Poetic language enlarges the hearer, swelling and stirring our hearts to know and be more than we have known or been. 

But to accomplish this within the space of a few minutes, with no more than a handful of words, complicating it all with metered rhythm and melody... to write a song, a good song, is a task that seems almost impossible for me. I know it is feasible for some, perhaps even simple to a few, but for me that mountain sits too far on the horizon. 

taking initiative

It really comes down to responsibility. Will you accept it, or will your service be orphaned when it counts? So many worship leaders don't have a clue how to operate their existing sound system, much less how to troubleshoot, update or configure any of the equipment. Understandably, this is not an area where many people just happen upon the knowledge in the normal course of a day, but there's no real reason to neglect it longer than you must. 

When your sound guy calls in sick, moves away, or simply gets burned out, your church and pastor will be looking to you to take care of the problem. It is easy to accept responsibility over the sound system when there is a knowledgable, experienced technician at the board making the gear do the job. Things get dicey when you have to be the expert for whatever reason. Expert or no, the worship leader is expected to be the best option in that situation. 

This comes across a bit harsh. I only mean to convey how important it is for a new worship leader to recognize and accept his or her areas of responsibility. Nobody else helps you tune your guitar. Nobody else has to plug in your sustain pedal or show you how to attach a strap to your bass. These are obvious technical proficiencies expected of every musician. In the same way, all that gear between the input snake and the congregation's ears 'belongs' to the worship leader in a functional sense. No, you won't be an expert in the strictest sense, at least not for a long time, but you can be your church's expert without too much trouble. Ask for help. Seek advice from more experienced people wherever you can find them. Take notes and get your hands dirty. Examine other sound systems as you invite other worship leaders to learn yours. Foster mutually beneficial relationships in your community based on finding and sharing knowledge in an area so many churches find elusive. Educate yourself on new equipment as you are able. With only a basic understanding of the role of each piece of gear, you will graduate from bewildered helplessness to confident troubleshooter and honorary sound guy. It really doesn't take a large amount of information if you take the time to grasp the purpose for each step in a signal path. 

You don't have to be the best there ever was, but you will be the best available some days. Your responsibility is to be able to handle the job in those moments. And honestly, if you can't even begin to explain where your band's sound went when it left your instruments, you might as well be outsourcing your music to an overseas help line. You don't speak their language and they don't care whether you shout, cry or beg. Don't let equipment ignorance usurp the leadership of your church's worship. 

terraforming

I suppose it comes from having a bit of military background, seeing the spectrum of leadership 'position' as multiple instances of the same basic principle: we follow an example we trust, and in doing so provide such an example to those who observe us. Our group spoke at length on the idea that every leader must also be a follower before they can hope to effectively take charge. I would add that they demonstrate continued willingness to follow and learn, even to the point of eagerness, if they truly desire to set a proper example for those they lead. 

Every sergeant in the chain of command follows the example of the rank above him and passes that on to those below. From a division level command sergeant major down to a young team level corporal, every man has a similar responsibility: follow orders and ensure that your mission is completed. It is the same in every moderate to large sized group I've ever served. The manner in which any member of a team respects and responds to those in charge is reflected in the way their subordinates will treat them. A backbiting, corner cutting middle manager will inevitably find his employees copying those same tactics behind his back. 

In the end, this is not about avoiding bad behavior so that those who follow you won't bite you in the professional rear end. All that vain self-protection amounts to digging ditches in the yard and calling it a moat. Rather, the goal should always be to seek out examples that inspire us to grow, whether that be in holiness or in skill, and then to emulate that inspiration. Doing so helps shape the interpersonal landscape around us so much more than digging a ditch; it moves mountains. 

the meta-game

Servant leadership gets such a bad rap sometimes. Submission skewed into a spineless acquiescence. At least in my experience, limited as that may be, serving goes awry when those who are served allow their perception of the relationship to devolve, to become an account of favors and accommodations due, while those who faithfully serve begin to feel the earth erode underneath them, washed away by apathetic responses. 

I forget the meta-game far too often. I must order my life according to my best interpretation of the will of God, avoiding this and embracing that, learning one, exemplifying another, all devoid of a reason beyond "I should". Sadly, the reason is usually painfully simple: I don't think about it. I don't invest the effort to remind myself that these individual steps are part of a larger plan. Today is not just about today, and it is most certainly not just about me. Today is not mine. My life crashes into everyone I meet; that interaction is not mine alone. 

We play Ultimate Frisbee every Saturday morning in the park. Terribly amateur, the hardest thing every week is honestly just remembering who belongs on which team. Yet every week, every game, there is evidence that people understand what it means to act contrary to self for the good of the team. Almost every scoring toss is built on multiple instances of diversion and teamwork, individual actions that in themselves don't address the need to score a point. Even we the amateurs understand that principle. One player frantically waving their arms, shouting and drawing attention as they streak toward the goal. Another player quietly drifts back the other way, ready to take advantage of it. Both are aware of the transaction; the high-fives and post-score chatter prove this. 

Yet the church seems to forget. Perhaps more likely, the church doesn't care enough to remember. Members coldly accept service from their pastoral leadership because that is their job, so entrenched in the view that the service is deserved that they become blind to the trade. Leaders fail equally. We let this numbness infect our hearts, convince ourselves that we must serve harder and greater to elicit response. 

Look up and know where you stand. Recognize your life, your service, for what it is. Find validation in the source and the calling, not in the response. 

taking the right steps

write...

step out...

join the worship community...

share...

For anyone who has ever met me, there's one thing that is unavoidably clear: I like to talk. I share words because I want to share life. I love the slow and unavoidable enrichment that comes from truthful and honest communication, whether the topic is death or dog shows. Writing, on the other hand... that's a whole other story. 

I remember sitting in a cramped office with Shannon and Peet, discussing the road I had traveled leading me to Visible Music College. There were several "are you sure about this" and quite a few "but what about that" moments. But the real underlying question was why the school should accept me into the worship leadership program. That was the easiest question of the day; I had known the answer for years. It didn't matter whether or not I was accepted, I knew that God would have his way like he always has... 

"God will have me leading somewhere in some capacity. Attending Visible, not attending... it doesn't change the call that God has given me."

The hard question, the real question, has always been how will I respond to that call, that direction. How will I prepare myself? Will I be willing to lay down my objections and fear? Will I allow and embrace this vulnerable dependence on my Father?

Too often I stress over the permanence of the written word. I am at once overwhelmed with all I want to say and intimidated by how inadequate my ability to express. I stress over these words because I know that one of these tomorrows, I'm going to look back and realize how much more I needed to grow and learn. When I talk to people, from behind a microphone or around a kitchen table, I know that my tangential nature is evident. I trust that my friends recognize the fact that I am in no way complete. I have not arrived. If I cannot claim credit for the strange and amazing things that have happened in my life, if I believe that God has greater things still in store for me, and if I know that God does not judge me guilty of my past, then I have no right deluding myself. Today is a footfall, not a finality. 

Most of the time, when I meet new people, the stories come flying out of the woodwork without me having to say a word. Helicopters, flesh-eating amoebas, or the military in general. Sometimes its funny or stupid things I've done, usually when we go out to eat. One of these days they'll stop letting me go out in public, I swear. Every day it seems is another chance to spark stories of life and laughter that I will hear repeated for months or years. I love having the shared experience, the lasting impression on lives around me. I believe that the me that I know won't be here tomorrow, though. 

The me that I know will have moved on a little bit, will have taken the next step. Each of those stories,  everything I write here, will be a marker on the path. It is where I was. Hopefully I will have made progress instead of just surviving the day. This is the me that I want to be: present and fully engaged in the world around me, but moving forward at the same time, looking for that next step. Ultimately I want these footfalls to reach a place where I can share a bit of truth among all the tangents. I pray that truth can somehow make an impression. 

So this is the part of me that finally compels the writing, this is what drives me to share life face-to-screen. I hope to join a broader family than I have known. There will be so many random things here, I almost feel I should include a disclaimer with every entry but if each of these footfalls are directed by God, if there is wisdom in my following, then there is reason enough to share the journey.