The Art of Losing Myself

A friend of mine (who will remain nameless to protect her own guilt) tells a story of a time she helped her church's flower committee construct two very large flower arrangements to adorn the altar area at the front of the sanctuary. The huge arrangements were so beautiful, and she was so proud of her work, she couldn't take her eyes off of them during that week's worship service. That's OK...soon enough no one else could take their eyes off of them either. Because no sooner had she begun admiring her own handiwork, that one of the huge arrangements slowly and dramatically began leaning to one side. First slightly, then severely, then in an instant, came crashing down!

What's that about pride coming before the fall...?

There is a line in the song "From the Inside Out" by Joel Houston that I think is incredibly profound. Yet how many times do we lose sight of heeding the advice? That line simply states, "the art of losing myself in bringing You praise." After all, isn't that what we are all striving to accomplish in any worship service? To lose sight of ourselves in the act of offering our praise unto God, and to focus solely on Him, the Receiver? John the Baptist was faced with this scenario in the book of John chapter 3. He was questioned by his disciples why Jesus was all of a sudden getting more of the spotlight. John's reply should be our collective mantra, "He must become greater, I must become less."

Sounds easy enough...

But honestly, I think that is the hardest part of being a musical worship leader. It's not the mechanics of the job: practicing my instrument, writing out and transcribing music, directing rehearsals, producing a polished and pleasing sound. That's the easy part. The fun part. No, the tough part is not letting all the creative arts implemented in our corporate worship gatherings become the focus; the very stumbling block that we hope it won't become. Let's face it. A well orchestrated musical presentation in a worship service (traditional and contemporary alike) will indeed command the congregations attention. The trick is to not afford the congregation the opportunity to get stuck gazing at and admiring the offering. Especially if it comes crashing to the ground!

Me and My Arrow

When I was a kid I used to have a toy bow and arrow set my folks bought me. Now, this may not have been the smartest move for my parental units; giving flying projectiles to a boy with no ability to restrain his desire for destruction and mayhem. But hey; it was the Sixties and we lived in the shadow of Tonto, the Lone Ranger, and F Troop. The tip of these arrows had those little red rubber suction cups on them. They looked like miniature toilet plungers. We never got the sharp steel-tipped kind. Mom and Dad had some sense. And I'm sure our dog Tanya was grateful, too. We loved to shoot them at flat surfaces like the wall paneling in the living room only to yank them off to hear that distinctive "pop" sound they made...yea, you know. That sound! THOP! I think that's how you spell it.

Usually we had to lick the suction cups beforehand to ensure they stuck to the target.

I think when God uses arrows He uses the ones with sharp points on them. His arrows make it to their target and have no trouble sticking to it. In the book of Isaiah chapter 49, Isaiah writes of Israel's servant being like a sharpened arrow hidden in the quiver of the Lord. Not just any arrow, but sharpened, prepared to pierce their target. And not just anywhere in the quiver, but hidden, protected, stealthy. Hidden and sharpened, these arrows have a more specific purpose; ready to strike and accomplish their mission.

Yet the reader in the passage contrasts this imagery with his own admission, "I have labored in vain, I have spent my strength for nothing and futility." Not feeling very sharpened or purposed. I admit I can also feel just like that. I don't want to labor in vain in serving the body of Christ as a worship leader, putting hope in my own strengths and abilities versus God's more sharpened, purposed efforts. All the "suction cup-licking" in the world won't make my good intentions stick.

So let us take great hope in being that arrow, you know, that one. Sharpened ahead of time by the Lord and pulled from the hidden, protected place of God's quiver to be used in His service. Then there will be no mistaking we met God's target because everyone will see that we did, and everyone can hear that sound you make when you are retrieved from the target. Yea, you know. That sound...THOP!

One Flesh; 27 Years

27 years! It has been 27 years, from August 24th, 1982, to this day that Kay and I have been married. But the most amazing aspect of this is not the longevity of years. No, the truly amazing thing is that we are the very best of friends after all this time. We have remained together through some pretty amazing and incredible experiences. We met, married, and had both of our children all while living overseas, working in ministry together. As we returned stateside we struggled and scraped out a living. We got ourselves planted, uprooted, replanted, reinvented, tooled and retooled, jobbed and rejobbed (are those real words?) And through all the ups and downs and twists and turns we are by the mighty grace of God better friends than when we started...in 1982.

After 27 years, we do still look at each other from across the room and get all mushy, smile, then dive into each others arms, nearly breaking the furniture. We laugh together about the same things. We cry during the same scenes watching the same movies. We love the same foods (oh wow, do we love food!) We often finish each others thoughts. That is when we aren't reading each others' minds. And after 27 years all this still amazes us both. Kay and I have something very special between each other. A marriage of flesh and soul. We are "one flesh" as scripture says.

Thank you babe, for 27 glorious years of an amazing relationship built on amazing grace; yours and God's. I love you!

The End of the Road

On June 29th of this year a dear friend passed away. Mike Sinn, losing a battle to cancer, was a key member and guitarist of our worship team at Covenant Life Church. I'd have to say he was one of the most interesting and colorful friends I've ever had to date. Besides his life experiences, musical strengths and his no non-sense Christian walk with the Lord Jesus, one of his most memorable "strong suits" to me was that he had little patience for most of the contemporary Christian music out there. And I loved him for that. He would often comment to me at how "it all sounded the same" to him (of course one could never make that argument about other musical genres. Say, the blues...)

It was no secret that Mike's love for the blues colored his approach to worship music. And I can't tell you how many times I would have to "call him out" during rehearsals for throwing in a bluesy "7th chord" into a typical pop ballad. Though a colorful and "unresolved" tension this chord gives to any blues progression, it totally clashed with a lot of the arrangements we were working with. "It sounds good to me." he would always say in a laid back tone that only Mike could deliver. All those years of playing the blues just manifested themselves naturally.

He also had little patience for certain complexities in others' music. My favorite Mike quote of all time: "That damn Tommy Walker has got too many chords in his music!" I told Tommy that story once. He laughed. Tommy would have loved Mike, too. That's what we all loved about Mike. He was Mike. And damned if he was gonna be anyone else! We wouldn't have wanted him any other way.

At Mike's memorial service, I was given the opportunity to sing a song I had written in his honor. Hopefully I will have it recorded soon and will post it for all to hear. For now, here are the lyrics. Enjoy.

...by the way, the last chord of the song...a 7th. It sounds good to me, too.

"The End of the Road"
dedicated to the memory of Michael Jay Sinn born June 7th, 1951, died June 29th, 2009
Words and Music by Barry Johnson

Take the last breath outta me
Take the wind out of my sail
Take the skip out of my stride
Let me weep and let me wail
For a friend has left this world
Into the arms of the Lord
Though our hearts mourn and our souls are torn
A friend adorns a crown at the end of the road

Chorus
Road to glory through these blues
Road to healing broken lives of me and you
Road to Jesus, He makes all things new
And we see a mended friend at the end of the road

On this road, to live is Christ
On the road, to die is gain
On this road, we envy those
In the angel band that play
For this road once paved with sorrow
Is covered with tears of joy
For our blues traveler, guitar warrior
Faithful servant is home at the end of the road

Chorus
Road to glory through these blues
Road to healing broken lives of me and you
Road to Jesus, He makes all things new
And we see a mended friend at the end of the road
© 2009 Barrytone Music/All Rights Reserved. Admin by Barry Johnson

A Cheerful Giver?

Have you ever gotten a gift from someone and you could tell the person put absolutely no value in the giving process? It was just the obligatory gift for whatever the special occasion was. Then, to make it even more awkward, they ask for it back? Huh? That's kind of embarrassing. You wished they never gave it in the first place! How nice. What was the point of that?

Years ago I attended a church that began a tradition of congregational applause whenever they would collect the offering. They would always refer to Paul's second letter to the church in Corinth,"God loves a cheerful giver" (2 Cor. 9:7). Great lesson on giving. Although Paul was addressing the aid that the church gives to its servants, like himself, I wonder about the broader implication. It begs the question "What does God think about non-cheerful givers?" What about tight-fisted givers who felt forced to give?

And what about the gift itself?

What if we aren't merely talking about aiding our church monetarily with our tithes and offerings unto God. What about our other forms of worship? I don't just mean our corporate singing or praying. What about our talents and abilities? The everyday moments we live out before God and man? What about how the decisions we make, things we say and do, things we don't say and do? Are we still that cheerful giver?

Paul goes on in 2 Corinthians to talk of the benefits in our giving, "Whoever sows sparingly will also reap sparingly, and whoever sows generously will also reap generously. Each man should give what he has decided in his heart to give, not reluctantly or under compulsion." If we do things sparingly, if we give to others, ascribe worth to God, love and live life sparingly, then what we get out of this "giver-receiver" relationship will reflect the same. Something very sparse. But if we do things generously, if we give to others, ascribe worth to God, love and live life generously, Cha-CHING! God brings about a generous harvest.

Givers, our corporate and private worship experience should be no less! God loves a giver, a sower, a worshiper who doesn't hold back or who isn't forced to participate out of duty or obligation in the process. With no strings attached to the gift of worship. No self-awareness in the giving. Only aware of the Receiver receiving.

Christ Above Me

I have to admit I don't know much about the guy most of us know as Patrick, the Saint. I know it's not even close to St. Patrick's Day (March 17th). But I am reminded of a prayer he is credited to have written we refer to as the "Breastplate of St. Patrick."

I'm also reminded of a certain piece of music put to an adapted version of this 5th century prayer by 20th/21st century songwriters John Chisum and George Searcy called "Christ Above Me." If you ever get a chance to hear it, please do. Ask your local worship leader to look it up. I know there is a recording of it somewhere in this world. I just don't have one. I do have the printed music and learned it to teach our church a couple of years ago.

The text of the chorus is simple yet profound: "Christ above me, Christ below me, Christ within me ever guiding, Christ behind me, Christ before, Christ my love, my life, my Lord." What an amazing anthem of declaration. Christ is our central theme. It all revolves around Him. After singing/praying those words I ought to be tripping over Jesus in my life. How can I not. Lord forgive us when we do not. I only wish I could sing it to you through this blog. Maybe someday. But until then, Google the prayer. And the song. And meditate on the centrality of Jesus in all things. Let Him get totally intertwined in your life. Trip over Him.

Chocolate and Good Friday

It's now a week after Easter Sunday. And I've been thinking about the connection between chocolate and Easter? Actually, isn't it because of the fasting during Lent?

"Boooo!" I say. Humbug. Who wants to think about fasting? And from chocolate? Not me! I'd rather picture that chocolaty goodness melting in my mouth and sliding down my happy gullet.

And what's the deal with Good Friday? "Boooo!" I say to Good Friday and to the death of Jesus for that matter. Who wants to think about our dead Lord hanging on the cross? I don't want to have that picture in my mind. I want to think about the resurrection goodness of the risen Jesus, gleaming in the sunshine. No dirt or sweat on his face. No blood on his clothes. A clean, alive Jesus is much more of a happy thought.

So can't you have Easter without Good Friday? A resurrection without a death? The reward of chocolate without the denial of it?

So many want to just forget Good Friday altogether and focus on the end of the week, Easter Sunday. Hurray! But I don't believe the resurrection can have the same meaning to us if we don't experience first the brokenness, the death, the blood, the sweat, and the tears, the silence and the reverence that is Good Friday. Not only was Jesus supposed to die, but maybe we too are supposed to feel the weight of it and in a way, and celebrate it and rejoice in it. Yes, I believe that to be true. Otherwise we run the risk of making the resurrection of Easter just one more celebration without the contrast of his death. No back story. One more piece of chocolate for our happy gullets without the benefit of ever going without.