Sing a Song

Knowledge of music is a blessing and a curse. It is entirely rewarding to be able to approach an instrument and know where to go and what to do with it. But for someone like me—someone particularly apt to picking apart the details and over thinking the process—it can also be burdensome. Chalk it up to my OCD. But I can’t—or really, I don’t—listen to a song without first determining the time signature, the bass line, the tonal qualities, the harmonies. I listen to the singer and critique whether he’s sharp or flat. I listen for crescendos and modulations. I am so absorbed in the theory of music, that sometimes I forget to actually listen to the music.

Our church worship team met over the weekend to practice some songs. I went thinking I was going to work with the other singers to split up our harmonies and work out some kinks, but I soon found that it was my turn to be benched for the week. Out of the rotation. As much as I like singing, I’m thankful for the break when it comes. So as the rest of the team worked on the set, I sat back and decided to actually listen. I mean really listen. Which for me means I let the music hit me in the face with welcome arms. No picking. No scrutinizing. No thinking.

And then I realized something. It’s been quite a while since I actually stopped and listened to the music—heard the meaning behind the lyrics. I’ve been so wrapped up in theory I’ve forgotten purpose. And sometimes I have to remind myself that what God hears is different than what I hear. I pick out the flatness of the voice. God picks out the sharpness of the heart. There is a reason we create music. It’s expression. Worship. Devotion. (True for secular or Christian, isn’t it?)

Isn’t it interesting how certain songs serve as markers for pivotal times in your life? I have so many. Too many. Especially worship songs. These are probably most favorite:

Because You Are by Everybody Duck

My favorite line of the song: “I don’t feel like kneeling or closing my eyes. Is there something wrong with my heart that I can’t see? Or do you feel loved still when nobody cries?” Maybe it was because I was raised Baptist or maybe it’s because I’m a conservative Swedish girl—I just don’t like to raise my hands when I sing. It’s just not me. And I discovered this song at a time when I was surrounded by people who felt it wasn’t worship if you didn’t have an emotional, tear jerking experience every time the music started. Don’t get me wrong, there is a time and a place. But most of the times and most of the places, I praise the Father wholeheartedly with my eyes open and my hands in my pockets. And that’s okay.

I Will Not Be Silent by David Crowder

At a David Crowder concert in the stuffy upstairs chapel room at my undergraduate school, I heard this song for the first time. We were packed, it was late, it was intimate. He stopped in the middle of the song and told us we weren’t singing like we meant it. That God didn’t care what you sounded like or if you knew all the words. That nobody was going to hear you anyway. And when he started up again, it was like the place was on fire. Warm. And tingly. It’s the song that taught me honest worship.

Rest Easy by Audio Adrenaline

Perhaps the most impactful song in my life. I came across it my first summer out of high school, although I had heard it many, many times growing up. I remember sitting on my porch, stressing about something, and suddenly the lyrics flooded into my head and out my mouth. I picked up my guitar and could play the chorus without the sheet music, without ever playing it before. The message behind the words is clear: take refuge in Him and you’ll find peace.

My Hope is You by Third Day

Just 4 months into my marriage, I started praying this song every day. Brandon had just spilled the news to me that he didn’t think we should move back to the mainland—like we had planned since we got engaged—and that he was actually going to become a pastor. I couldn’t understand it at the time. It felt unfair. Unreasonable. And me? A pastor’s wife? No way. I felt lost, and I had to find my hope.

All Who Are Thirsty by Kutless (or Vineyard)

The first song I sang for the church, Easter morning 3 years ago. The first time Brandon and I sang together as a worship team. And the first time I committed to serving in the church. It marked a beginning to being okay with my life as a pastor’s wife.

I guess I’m just trying to reclaim the purpose of music in my life. I want to hear music and actually hear the music.

Is it just me?

“So here is my offering, just a downbeat and a string.
But to you it’s a beautiful thing”

(Bleach, All That’s Sweet)