Bad Sunday

I once heard it said that, when performing music, there are no mistakes: there are only unintended improvisations. Well, a few Sundays back, I improvised a lot.

Woke up late. Began worship with my sheet music out of order. Had my volume pedal all the way down on my guitar which caused me to miss the first beat of the first song. Missed a few lyrics. Couldn’t even buy a vowel when talking to the congregation.

It happens. One thing I have learned from being a musician for so many years is that there are no perfect performances. You learn from mistakes and move on, and try to do better next time.

Still, I sometimes feel that, because I am singing to Him, for Him, and about Him that I will supernaturally overcome my humanity every time I take my mic in hand.

Vanity? Maybe. Caring? Yes. Perfectionism? When it pertains to God, not a bad standard, provided it’s coupled with the understanding that you’ll never get there.

But messing up never stops stinging. And when one is in ministry, you feel like your letting God down if things don’t go just right.

Then, by the grace of God, I heard something I needed to hear. It was a podcast of Dr. Ergun Caner preaching during Campus Church at Liberty University. He was praising the worship team during the introduction of his message, and he told a story of a picture his youngest son drew for him. While the drawing was not destined to hang in a museum, it was priceless to him.

That, he related, is the way God views our worship.

By omnipotent standards, our offerings of worship are mighty frail. We flounder around, lacking focus. But it isn’t the quality or professionalism of what we offer so much as it is the heart of the child of God that offers the adoration that matters to it’s Recipient.

I’m simply humbled that I get to glorify Him in my uniquely flawed, specifically pathetic way. He’s worthy of more than I can produce. And knowing that makes me feel strangely secure.

(By the way, check out what my boy drew for me. Cool, right?)