“Remember to look for people who are worshiping and focus on them; you will draw energy from each other, and it will create an atmosphere that helps the whole room and facilitates their worship.”
This was some of the last-minute advice given to our worship group as we prepared to do 5 Christmas Eve services over 3 days. Music rehearsals, tech rehearsals, complete run-throughs, discussions of camera angles and the setting of sound and light boards were all culminating in this event to celebrate the birth of Jesus. My husband and I were part of a 12-person choir supplementing the regular worship team as they led out in worship. Although not mic’d, we were encouraged to sing with gusto and raise hands, dance, jump around, and otherwise convey excitement and passion in our worship.
At one point at the end of the service, half the choir comes out onto a special platform, or “thrust” built for the occasion that puts us in the middle of the audience. It was a departure from the normal setup, and it clearly startled the people seated closest to the platform as we danced down the thrust singing a rocking version of Joy to the World.
As I got into position one service, my feet landed eye-level with a man who was quite startled to see me. He looked up, made eye contact with me, grinned, and then winked. I smiled and winked back, and we both continued to worship with joy and abandon. The expression on his face as he worshiped the Lord made me want to be even more expressive in my own worship—just as our worship leader predicted.
We came to the end of our song with a big finish, and the man and I made eye contact once more. He gave me another wink and a huge smile. He was clearly overflowing with joy and looking for any possible way to express it. I responded by winking and smiling back for the second time. When service was dismissed, I leaned down and gave him a high five and wished him a Merry Christmas. He was surprised, but then laughed and greeted me in kind.
It was a moment like I hadn’t experienced in over a year. Both times we lived in Germany, I was a worship leader in an international community—a military chapel the first time, and a military-centered off-post church the second. In both cases, due to our location and the nature of the training missions, we had a host of other nationalities attend our services.
I would sometimes take a moment to let the team carry vocals as I drank in the beauty of our congregation worshiping together. While mainly American of every type, we also had Germans, Samoans, South Koreans, Filipinos, Italians, British Islanders, and several African countries represented for at least a short time. Though we came from many military ranks as well as a wide range of social, economic, political and theological views, for that one moment in time, we were united in the worship of our God, and all the things that divided us melted away as we became completely focused on the One we worshiped. The only thing that mattered was Jesus.
The moment of connection with the man in the Christmas service felt very much like one of those moments from Germany: no matter who you are or what your story is or has been, it all pales in comparison to the beauty and wonder of Jesus, and what His birth, death, and resurrection mean for all mankind. The only thing that really mattered to both of us in that moment was worshiping Jesus. And it was an incredibly beautiful thing.
Much of the Journey of the past year has felt like a dry desert. As such, I've not written or shared on the blog in a while because I felt like I needed time evaluate and process things. I’ve felt hungry to get involved in ministry, but as we’re adjusting to civilian life, we are learning it takes quite some time to form relationships and get plugged into community—even at church. I’ve longed to teach and to lead worship, and I have ached for friendship and connection. We are learning that things in the civilian world just work much slower than we’re accustomed to in the military community.
Here’s praying that the quiet year of 2019 has fertilized and rested the ground of our lives and yields to a fruitful 2020. And may the incredible joy of the Baby in the Manger fill our hearts all year long.
Merry Christmas!
This was some of the last-minute advice given to our worship group as we prepared to do 5 Christmas Eve services over 3 days. Music rehearsals, tech rehearsals, complete run-throughs, discussions of camera angles and the setting of sound and light boards were all culminating in this event to celebrate the birth of Jesus. My husband and I were part of a 12-person choir supplementing the regular worship team as they led out in worship. Although not mic’d, we were encouraged to sing with gusto and raise hands, dance, jump around, and otherwise convey excitement and passion in our worship.
At one point at the end of the service, half the choir comes out onto a special platform, or “thrust” built for the occasion that puts us in the middle of the audience. It was a departure from the normal setup, and it clearly startled the people seated closest to the platform as we danced down the thrust singing a rocking version of Joy to the World.
As I got into position one service, my feet landed eye-level with a man who was quite startled to see me. He looked up, made eye contact with me, grinned, and then winked. I smiled and winked back, and we both continued to worship with joy and abandon. The expression on his face as he worshiped the Lord made me want to be even more expressive in my own worship—just as our worship leader predicted.
We came to the end of our song with a big finish, and the man and I made eye contact once more. He gave me another wink and a huge smile. He was clearly overflowing with joy and looking for any possible way to express it. I responded by winking and smiling back for the second time. When service was dismissed, I leaned down and gave him a high five and wished him a Merry Christmas. He was surprised, but then laughed and greeted me in kind.
It was a moment like I hadn’t experienced in over a year. Both times we lived in Germany, I was a worship leader in an international community—a military chapel the first time, and a military-centered off-post church the second. In both cases, due to our location and the nature of the training missions, we had a host of other nationalities attend our services.
I would sometimes take a moment to let the team carry vocals as I drank in the beauty of our congregation worshiping together. While mainly American of every type, we also had Germans, Samoans, South Koreans, Filipinos, Italians, British Islanders, and several African countries represented for at least a short time. Though we came from many military ranks as well as a wide range of social, economic, political and theological views, for that one moment in time, we were united in the worship of our God, and all the things that divided us melted away as we became completely focused on the One we worshiped. The only thing that mattered was Jesus.
The moment of connection with the man in the Christmas service felt very much like one of those moments from Germany: no matter who you are or what your story is or has been, it all pales in comparison to the beauty and wonder of Jesus, and what His birth, death, and resurrection mean for all mankind. The only thing that really mattered to both of us in that moment was worshiping Jesus. And it was an incredibly beautiful thing.
Much of the Journey of the past year has felt like a dry desert. As such, I've not written or shared on the blog in a while because I felt like I needed time evaluate and process things. I’ve felt hungry to get involved in ministry, but as we’re adjusting to civilian life, we are learning it takes quite some time to form relationships and get plugged into community—even at church. I’ve longed to teach and to lead worship, and I have ached for friendship and connection. We are learning that things in the civilian world just work much slower than we’re accustomed to in the military community.
Here’s praying that the quiet year of 2019 has fertilized and rested the ground of our lives and yields to a fruitful 2020. And may the incredible joy of the Baby in the Manger fill our hearts all year long.
Merry Christmas!