I didn't grow up saying, "Mama, I wanna be a worship leader." In the home where I was raised, my parents ran as fast as they could from anything religious. My mother always said she didn't want anything to do with church. She was raised in a staunch holiness home where her mother was the spiritual leader and her father was indifferent. In my dad's case, his family was filled with non-believers. It was once said about his grandfather, who died in Australia in 1920, that even though he didn't profess Christ publicly, he lived his life as if he had. Needless to say, I was the product of two people who didn't make Christ the center of their lives and thus, their home.
My mom's mother took me to church when I stayed over for the weekend. My biggest memory was when she bought me new shoes one Saturday at Thom Mcan. Then, the next morning, she dropped me off in a Sunday school class. I was terrified because the room was filled with strangers. As soon as the cookies and fruit punch appeared, everything became tolerable. In the church service, the mono-toned preacher with his long, drawn-out prayers and sermon bored me to tears. The colorful, stained-glass windows portraying Bible stories were intriguing. But for a kid, it didn't connect regarding a relationship with Christ. The truth that did connect with me was how Grandma prayed. She prayed for our salvation (one day her prayers would be answered for each person in my immediate family). So fervent were her petitions at the dinner table, she shed tears of gratefulness as she thanked God for our food and His many blessings. We all giggled as our heads were bowed, but today I am so blessed to be a product of her faithfulness to God.
I was 14 when God invaded my life. All of the backyard Bible classes I attended during the summer in my neighborhood, my grandmother's faithfulness-- the sum-total of my spiritual experience up to then--clicked on like a light when I finally saw the reality of Christ. That glorious day when Christ came into my life was April 19, 1975 at 9:05 PM. I brought the news home to my parents, who's apparent reaction was, "Now what are we gonna do with this kid?" Their reluctance to be positive about my transformation began to turn the corner when, over time, my actions matched my testimony. I remember feeling such a connection to church and it's importance to my spiritual growth. I knew that God was calling me to serve Him in a special way.
When I first began to follow Christ I visited Calvary Chapel, Costa Mesa on Saturday nights and was mesmerized and inspired to be like the musicians who sang and played on the stage. I never aspired to be like the music guy at Grandma's church who flailed his arms and led songs that seemed really out of date. Calvary Chapel was doing material in the style I heard on the radio. I wanted to do that.
35 years have passed. A worship revolution stormed the church and has made a way for guys like me to fulfill our calling as worship leaders. It's amazing to see so many churches writing and arranging their own songs--putting together stellar bands. The future is bright. Now I realize that people probably look at me as one of those religious guys I saw at Grandma's church as a kid. God forbid! I hope you don't misunderstand me when I say that I never, ever want to be religious. I don't want to be the guy who, when he prays, changes his accent and uses words that are never used in normal conversation (if I ever seem to be heading in that direction, please stop me and remind me what I said here!). My goal is to lead people to the throne of grace where Christ meets us without condemnation--where fear is not welcome and faith is nurtured. I want to help connect these spiritual possibilities to the lives of everyday people, young and old. If I can lead people there--in a relevant way-- and God's anointing is present, I don't know a better way to spend the rest of my days on this earth.
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