One of the great burden-lifting joys God has graced me with is a church that values congregational singing. I love Christ’s church; caring for her is the joy and duty and mission of my life. Proclaiming her message and protecting her purity is, by God’s grace, what I’ll spend the rest of my life doing. I don’t want to start a successful business, be president of a large company, or spend my life traveling the world. I want to serve the church. Period.
I don’t love the church because it’s an easy place to be. I’ve heard, and have no problem believing, that there is no “occupation” more difficult than pastor. It isn’t that everyone is “nice” at church. That’s not even true. It’s not that I’m a people-person and I need to be around people a lot. What draws me in worship is the picture of what’s happening every time we gather. I am dwarfed by the vastness of God and the Great Story that, though blind I often am, is all around me. But when we sing– together, loud, enthralled–I am lifted out of myself to realize what is really happening. I remember what Christ’s church is all about. And it’s far more than a song.
Sinners, made saints by the grace of God, come to behold their Creator, to hear from him, and to align themselves together to worship and obey him. God comes down, steps in, speaks life and truth and joy, and we are changed– even if it’s only a degree (2 Cor. 3:18).
So as I look around the congregation, I see trophies of grace, and am drawn to the great God-triumphant, Redeemer Jesus, who is scooping up mounds of dirt and making diamonds. Singing together with these people is literally a heavenly experience– and I don’t mean that in a Hallmark-y sort of way. We actually will do this in heaven.
