Pick the songs. Arrange them in a fresh “flowing” order, all-the-while being mindful of the song’s key and lyrical theme. Pray (because I’m supposed to, you know). Research appropriate scripture. Type the lyrics. Rehearse every chord. Print 8 copies for the band. Printer out of ink. Drive to store. Buy ink. Look at watch. Complain about having to do all this. Return home. Clear the printer’s queue. Re-print. Paperclip. Stack.
Re-type the lyrics into Powerpoint (yuch), MediaShout, or Keynote. Computer crashes. Re-re-type the lyrics. Grab guitar and rehearse with slides. Make sure they’re in the right order …
Sound equipment: Looks like I need a _____. (guitar string, pick, AA battery, mic cable, insert missing-piece-of-equipment here). Call a friend. Drive to friend’s house. Borrow the equipment.
Rehearsal. Email the band. Find a time that works. Discover that “no time” works, of course. Do the best we can with who can come. But now, where? Where will we rehearse? Call a church. Acquire a key. Figure out the church’s sound system. Screeching feedback. Loud noises. I don’t know what we’re yelling about.
Somewhere along the way, I forgot the privilege. I let the holy-passion that once burned inside of me become a routine. Tonight, the holy passion returned. Thank you, Jesus.
This is not a routine. This is not a burdensome chore. This is an ongoing conversation. It is a continuous dialog between my spirit, your spirit, and the Maker of the entire universe. In this very moment, we have the privilege of communicating, adoring, worshipping, proclaiming the glory, falling down in complete awe before, and singing at the top of our lungs to the One who made us.
For “all the earth bows down to you: they sing praise to you, they sing praise to your name.” (ps 66:4)
This is for glory. What a privilege, Jesus. Father, forgive me for making this about me.
