Iron vs. Iron

To offer a constructive critique of Christian worship and the Christian music industry, under the assumption that no one has yet figured out the *perfect* way to worship.

[marcaune]

Not Gonna Do It

There are some things which I cannot, in good conscience, do to advance in my profession.

1. Skinny jeans.  Let me just say this: I am not skinny.  This is not meant as a passive-aggressive search for a self-esteem boost.  It is fact.  Here is a brief list of people that do not want to see me wear skinny jeans: 1) me, 2) my wife, 3) everyone else.

1.a. Skinny jeans rolled up.  I used to roll up my jeans when my mom would buy clothes I “would grow into.”  I stopped growing in 1998 and I now buy jeans that fit.  #costco #urbanstar

2. Tight-fitting button-up short-sleeve shirt with sleeves rolled up and top button buttoned.  This look is just way too particular to replicate each week.  Plus, it looks kinda dorky.

3. Creative hair.  If you see me with any sort of “creative” hairstyle, it means that I’m just stretching out the time between haircuts.  I’m not that creative, but I am that thrifty.

There’s nothing inherently wrong with these things.  For some people, they may even be legitimate organic physical expressions of who they are.  Good for them.

But I’m definitely not one of those people.

[marcaune]

Are Christians Missing Out by Not Criticizing?

Oceans vs. You Make Me Brave is a battle that will never be fought.  But maybe it would be better if it were.

Last summer, I heard a song that you probably haven’t heard of called You Make Me Brave by Amanda Cook & Bethel Music.  Loved it.  I was sold before the end of the four bar drum intro.  When it got to the chorus, however, it sounded familiar—not musically, but sentimentally:

As Your love, in wave after wave Crashes over me, crashes over me For You are for us You are not against us Champion of Heaven You made a way for all to enter in

It made me think of this:

And I will call upon Your name And keep my eyes above the waves When oceans rise My soul will rest in Your embrace For I am Yours and You are mine

You probably recognize that one: Oceans, the Hillsong United megahit that has swept across evangelical churches.  It seems like there are similar elements in each song: use of water as a metaphor, acknowledgement of God’s ownership of us, declaration of our future victories coming through God’s provision.

I’m not going to debate which one is better, but that got me thinking: why not?  Why do I feel as though I would be viewed heretically for pitting works of Christian art against each other?  Why, across the vast reaches of the Internet, have I yet to find a single blog that would dare to critically compare one Christian song to another?

There seem to be only two times it is acceptable to say something critically about Contemporary Christian Music: when it is compared to either a) current secular radio or b) hymns.  Christian music reviews exist, but they usually evaluate whether an album is good, great, or awesome, not whether it actually has artistic merit when compared to its Christian—or secular—peers.

I’m not looking for someone to spew vitriol or be mean-spirited in a review, but would it not be beneficial for artists and listeners to have a means by which we could offer a little constructive criticism to today’s popular Christian musicians?  Can’t there be a time when it’s OK to say that this version of Our God’s bridge is better (or at least more interesting) than this one?  I want someone to rank the best Christian songs of the 1990s—a genuine countdown in order of merit and not some Buzzfeed list of a bunch of songs that may be remembered by those of a certain age.

Let’s discuss.  Let’s debate.  Let’s hold Christian artists to the same level of scrutiny as we would their secular peers, so that they’re pushed to create truly great works of art that reflect God’s glory.

Competition drives innovation and creativity.  Let’s take off the kid gloves and stop assuming that something is good music because the artist had good intentions behind it.  God knows the good intentions of our hearts, but he also knows the gifts he’s given and the extent to which they’ve been used or not used.  Let’s strive to bring out the best in each other, for the sake of his name.

[marcaune]

Andraé Crouch: Church Communication Hero

And then sometimes I get to post on someone else's website...

[marcaune]

I'd like to say this was some satire of worship songwriting, but this is from an actual lead sheet on CCLI.  I think I'll take care of the repeats, thank you very much.

At least seven is a holy number?

[marcaune]

Here it is: the live recording of Let Me Know from last Sunday.

[marcaune]

"Barely" missing the chance to record with a Grammy winner: Part II

Here's the rest of the story of how I barely missed out on getting a song I cowrote over a 25 hour period recorded by a Grammy-winning producer at PWI.

June 18, 2014 (continued from the last post)

4:34 p.m.  The general session is over.  I meet with the rest of the group to make sure everyone is going to the right place.

4:50 p.m.  Waiting to play our song.  There’s a beautiful ballad being sung in the room.  I feel good about our song.  The competitive side of me is confident: whenever there is something to be won, I enter a focused mode of self-affirmation in which failure is not an option.

4:55 p.m.  Performance.  I sing the first line of the chorus as it was in a previous iteration.  Despite a confused look from Angela, I get back on track quickly and no harm is done.

4:56 p.m.  We get to the second chorus when Mark Woodward (composer and keyboardist) hurries to the keyboard in the room and starts playing along.  He seems to be loving it.  Oh yeah.  We got this.

4:58 p.m.  Jonathan Lee and Mark Woodward both like the song.  They disagree about the bridge: Mark seems to like it a lot, but wants more lyrics to it.  Jonathan feels that it’s the weak link of the song, but it’s fixable with some tweaking.  Certainly, it won’t prevent us from getting it to the studio.  Right?

5:03 p.m.  Waiting in the hallway for the other groups to finish.  Some of the gals and I start working on more lyrics to expand the bridge.

5:15 p.m.  Jonathan calls all the groups back into the room to tell us the top three.

5:16 p.m.  Jonathan dragging it out...come on!  Rip off the Band-Aid!

5:17 p.m.  Jonathan praying...

5:18 p.m.  First group announced.  Not us.  Second group announced.  Not us.  Third group...we made it!

5:20 p.m.  We have 40 minutes until we play our song again for Mark Heimermann.  Guess we’ll get dinner.

5:50 p.m.  Dinner is done and now we play...the waiting game.

6:00 p.m.  No Mark Heimermann yet.

6:10 p.m.  Jeff Deyo is here to let us know that Mark is in traffic and will be another 10 minutes.

6:15 p.m.  Hannah shows us her Nexus card that allows here to shop at a Canadian Wal-Mart.

6:20 p.m.  Mark’s here.  We all head toward a room.  I am staying away from the entrance, hoping we get to go last.  I don’t know what the other two songs sound like, but if they aren’t uptempo, we will blow them away.  There's so much energy in our song.

6:27 p.m.  We get to meet Mark.  He seems genuinely happy to be meeting another Marc (me).  I point out the spelling difference, but it does not diminish his enthusiasm.

6:28 p.m.  Let’s play!

6:31 p.m.  We nailed it.  Mark was really glad that it was uptempo.  It was the best performance we’ve done so far.  I can’t believe I like this song so much.  Whatever happens, I am sharing it at my church this Sunday.  Time to go wait for his decision.

6:33 p.m.  Mark comes out of the room.  He tells the first group that their chorus is pretty weak and needs a lot of work.  He says something surprisingly critical of the second group—something about their musical range, I think.  It doesn’t sound mean, but very matter-of-fact.  I'm feeling good about our chances.  Save the best for last, right?

6:34 p.m.  Mark tells us that he really liked the bridge of our song and reiterates the freshness of an uptempo song.  Unfortunately, the chorus was pretty “camp-y.”  Not like the word, campy, but like a song that would be sung at camp.  That’s fixable in the studio, right?

6:34 p.m.  Mark is looking down at his smartphone.  It doesn’t seem like he’s made a decision yet.  Should I say something?  Would it help?  Would it hurt?  Would it be petty?  Maybe he’s just figuring out how to break it to those who don’t get picked, although he kind of did that already.

6:35 p.m.  Mark "barely" chooses the first group.  Wait, what?  Now he’s saying a lot of stuff that I’m just not hearing.  It’s like a big mute button has been pressed.  I see his mouth moving, but there’s no sound.  This is not what was supposed to happen.  He didn’t like their chorus!

6:36 p.m.  He used the word "barely."  We were so close!

6:37 p.m.  Let's go walk the streets of Minneapolis for a bit.

7:06 p.m.  We find a CVS on 9th Ave and Portland.  I'm drowning my sorrow in a roll of SweetTarts, thank you very much.

7:08 p.m.  Those were good SweetTarts.

9:04 p.m.  It's good to be home and see the wife.  Time to relax for a bit, then bed time.

11:13 p.m.  Time to check the ol' Internet before getting ready for bed.  Hmm...what did that Mark Heimermann do again?  Let’s check Wikipedia.

11:14 p.m.  Hmm...why did I check Wikipedia?  Was it possibly able to make me feel any better about this?  SMH.  I was so close to working with the man who produced one of the most influential songs in Christian music in the last 30 years.  SO CLOSE.

June 19, 2014

As I reflect on the past two days, here’s what I know:

It stings.  It still stings.  It probably will sting for a while.  But that’s not a bad thing.  The song won’t get recorded (at least not yet), but it’s still there.  The song doesn’t cease to be.  The memories of fantastic Christian musicians hearing the song and loving it (at least parts of it) are indelible: Jonathan Lee eagerly grabbing my guitar to work the verse, Mark Woodward jumping to the keyboard to play along, Jeff Deyo bouncing up and down, and Rick Barron bobbing his head.

I collaborated for the first time.  It was uncomfortable, scary, and challenging, but worth it.  I ate my share of humble pie, but also came away with a song that was better than the sum of its parts.  By my count, at least 10 people contributed toward making the song what it came to be.  Who knows?  Maybe it’s not done yet.  Maybe we’ll work to de-camp the chorus and make it even better.

Whatever happens, an incredible whirlwind experience has come to an end.  The good and the bad, the joy and the hurt, it was what it was and now it is what it is.  I’m not happy with the outcome, but I'm ready to keep moving.  God will use it to shape me, because it is part of me now...along with so many memories and some new friends.

[marcaune]

And then I "barely" missed out on getting a song I cowrote recorded by a Grammy-winning producer

I came so close to having a song I cowrote recorded by a Grammy-winning producer at the Pure Worship Institute.  The following may not have happened in the exact sequence and it's based entirely on my memory, but here's the timeline as I recall it (all times CDT and approximate).

June 17, 2014

2:00 p.m.  Songwriter Workshop led by Jeff Deyo (PWI founder you may know from SONICFLOOd).  I learn that I will be collaborating with others to write a song.  One song out of all the songwriting groups will get recorded by week's end.

2:15 p.m.  I team up with four women: one (Angela) slightly older than me and three (Jaila, Hannah, and Anastasia) much younger.  None of us has a guitar handy, so I volunteer to play piano for the rest of the workshop.  This should be interesting.

2:16 p.m.  I mention to the group that I've never collaborated with others to write a song before.

2:17 p.m.  I think to myself, Is that really true?  Never?  That's a shame.

2:32 p.m.  We like a comment made by one of the PWI staff earlier in the day and spend some time seeing if we can expand it into lyrics.  Ultimately, we cannot.  Instead, we choose to use Ephesians 3:18-19 as the foundation for the song.

2:40 p.m.  Jaila (I think) comes up with the melody for the first line of what would become the verse, although we call it a chorus.

2:47 p.m.  We have lyrics for most of the verse, although we still think it's a chorus.

2:54 p.m.  We are told by Andre Rodriguez (musician, songwriter and one of the clinicians) that it is definitely not a chorus.  Fine.

3:05 p.m.  Angela has some great words that we try to incorporate into...a chorus? a bridge?  We're not sure, but they're good and they seem like they're going to fit, thematically.

3:15 p.m.  Workshop over.  There's much work to be done, but it's a good start.  For five people who have never previously spoken together, let alone worked together, it's been an incredibly productive hour.

4:45 p.m.  I realize that I must get my guitar from church, both for tomorrow's workshop and for trying to work on the song after the evening's worship encounter.

10:35 p.m.  Basement couch, bowl of chips, glass of water, guitar in hand, laptop beside me, the fatter of our two cats trying in vain to steal my chips...let's write!

11:15 p.m.  Exhausted.  Internal monologue says: I got the verse and bridge done.  We can write the @#$! chorus tomorrow.  This was not spoken in a mean-spirited way.  Just a really, really tired way.  

June 18, 2014

8:38 a.m.  I arrive late to prayer time at PWI.  They're praying in groups and I don't want to interrupt, so I head upstairs near the skyway.  As I start playing through what I wrote the previous night, I am pleasantly surprised to find that I still like it.

8:44 a.m.  Jaila comes walking across the skyway to where I am.  I am mildly afraid that she will absolutely hate what I did to the song.  To my delight, she seems to like it and we spend some time refining things and get a chorus written.  A very productive 15 minutes.

1:45 p.m.  Fifteen minutes until the group is back together to work on the song.  I am practicing what I worked on like mad in order to make sure I know what I'm doing when I share it with the rest of them.

2:00 p.m.  Brief instructions from musician, songwriter, and worship leader Jonathan Lee.  Reminded that one song will be chosen and that it may not be the "best" song but the song that best fits what they want to do in the studio for the rest of the week.

2:05 p.m.  I share what I've worked on with the rest of the group.  There is some mild relief and exhalations in our tiny, dimly-lit room.  Apparently, some of the ladies tried to work on the song last night but weren't able to get very far.  Glad I stopped to pick up my guitar.

2:06 p.m.  The honing begins.  Hannah, Anastasia, Jaila and Angela  are all providing helpful feedback and we're whittling away to get at what might just become a good song.  The bridge is problematic.  We leave it alone for now.

2:10 p.m.  Jonathan Lee stops by.  He wants the second line of the verse to have the same melody as the first, and the third and fourth lines to both go up and build in intensity.  The chorus is not exciting to him.  Now the satisfaction of being somewhat ahead of the game quickly starts to feel like catching up in a hurry.

2:11 p.m.  Did I mention Jonathan played my guitar?  That was cool.  You know what's not cool?  Trying to replicate the feel of what he did with the melody of the verse without blatantly copying what he did.

2:15 p.m.  Jeff Deyo stops by.  Like Jonathan, he really likes the first line of the verse.  We play the chorus, rewritten after Jonathan's direction, and he gives it some more tweaks.  It is head-bobbin' fun.

2:18 p.m.  Rick Barron (musician, songwriter) stops by.  He's bobbin' his head a lot.  I don't remember if he said anything or not.  I just remember his head moving.  A good sign.

2:20 - 2:50 p.m.  A 30-minute blur.  I picture clinicians popping in, grooving to the verse and chorus, smiling and moving around. 

2:51 p.m.  Uh, we need a bridge, ladies.

3:05 p.m.  Whew, got a bridge.  Chop off most of the original bridge words, focus on a two-line phrase that would be repeated to reach acceptable bridge length.

3:07 p.m.  Rick Barron stops by again.  He suggests we change it into a ballad.  He's kidding.

3:10 p.m.  I give Jonathan my phone number.  He's going to text if we made the top five, although the way he is speaking it sounds like a virtual done deal.  He wants a title.  Jaila begins with the scripture reference when somebody interrupts with the title "Let Me Know."  It makes sense, since the phrase is used a lot.  Jonathan says, "Well, let me know," and we all laugh, because it's the title, but it also sounded like he wanted to know, but...yeah, you probably got the joke by now.  If you don't, let me know.

3:15 p.m.  Everybody is moving on, but I stay in the room for another few minutes to record the song on my phone.  I think I have the melody memorized, but I'd hate to risk losing it.  Based on the reaction of the clinicians, I feel like this is our contest to lose.  And we did.  But you already surmised that from the title.

3:53 p.m.  Sitting in the last general session of the day when I get a text:

To be continued...

[marcaune]

Catching Up

It's been awhile.  What can I say?  Do I blame the baby?  Sure, let's start there.

Christmas and Easter came and went (without the promised conditionally proposed and much ballyhooed casually announced series of Christmas song posts), I have three kids now, ministry has been busy, and I started teaching bass guitar lessons again.  Add to that a neglected yard entering its third year with an unbalanced ratio of work:relaxation and I haven't had much time to think, let alone type, this spring.  That's ends today.

I have a few topics to grind my gears.  The first one comes later this week...unless I have another kid before then.

[marcaune]

The Epic Clash of Christmas Epochs

Merry Christmas! As one of last year’s Twelve Terrible, Terrible Songs of Christmas purports, it has been said many times, many ways. Like anything else, most people have a personal preference for songs from a certain period of time, but subjectivity is boring and un-American: we like having an objectively determined winner!

Hopefully, we’ll make it all the way through the tournament before the birth of my third child. If not, well, we may just pick up where we leave off next year.

[marcaune]

Christmas Is Coming...

This post is just to let you know that in between worship team and choir rehearsals, Christmas decorating, preparing for baby #3 (i.e. formulating Christmas Eve contingency plans), and my newfound gig as a fantasy football writer, I am working on another series of Christmas music blogs.

Merry Christmas!

Marc

[marcaune]

Michael Gungor and Miley Cyrus

I feel sorry for Michael Gungor, but at least he's keeping his clothes on.

First, let me make clear one thing: the new album, I Am Mountain, is fantastic.  I've been listening to it multiple times a day since its release.  Each time I listen to it, however, one troubling theme continues to reach the fore of my mind.

Gungor seems to be trying hard, perhaps too hard, to shed the categorization of Christian music that has been applied to his art since his name, umlauts and all, gained notoriety in Christian subculture.

The choices Gungor makes on I Am Mountain seem to go beyond exploring complex philosophies that most other Christian artists are too reluctant to engage.  There were calculated decisions in the conception of the album that seem intentionally designed to break Gungor free from the audience that is so desperate to embrace him—Christians—with the goal of being accepted as a true artiste in mainstream circles.

Consider the second track, The Beat of Her Heart: Gungor tells a tale of a man rescuing his lover from death, with the careful warning that he mustn't look back as he escapes with her from Hades.  Of course, he does and he loses her forever.  The Biblical reference that comes to mind is the story of Lot and his wife, the latter of which turned back as she was escaping the destruction of Sodom and was transformed into a pillar of salt.  Granted, there are key differences between the song's narrative and the story of Lot, but it's noteworthy that Gungor chose a mythological setting for his tale, rather than a Biblical one with which his existing audience would be more familiar and, dare I say, comfortable.

In Long Way Off, Gungor uses big words like erudite and apophatic.  Criticize contemporary Christian music (CCM) all you want (no, really, go ahead), but I'm not convinced that requiring most of your listeners to use a dictionary in order to understand what you're trying to say is any better the simplistic lyrics notoriously associated with most CCM.  Do I like fancy words?  Absolutely.  But, if I were to use the phrase "apophatic mystic" in conversation with you, wouldn't you think that I was trying just a little too hard to impress you?

Then there's my least favorite track, God and Country.  For the record, I don't like guns, war, or Big Oil, either.  I agree with the sentiment of the song.  I just find it lyrically unoriginal and an obvious shot (pun intended) at conservative Christians who seem to blindly vote the Republican ticket.

I Am Mountain seems an intentional effort by Gungor to break free from the stigma of being a Christian artist in the hope of gaining the esteem that comes with being an artiste.  It is deliberately differentiated from CCM in at least three ways:

The use of mythology and philosophy instead of theology.

The use of highfalutin language.

The use of sentiment that goes directly against the cliché Christian Conservative/Republican.

As a fellow Christian, I find no fault with the direction Gungor has chosen to go.  Michael Gungor has always impressed me as a Christian whose faith inspires his art, rather than a Christian artist who does Christian music in the Christian genre for a Christian record label.  The album disappoints only insomuch as it reflects a greater issue: the forced application of a genre on Christian artists.  Much like former child stars going over the top to distance themselves from their innocence of years past, Gungor is trying hard to get you to accept him as he is now.

I Am Mountain is Gungor performing a scantily-clad, tongue-waving, twerking duet with Robin Thicke, as costumed teddy bears dance around him.  It's his plaintive petition that we let go of our preconceptions and accept him on his terms.  The other choice is to just stop listening.

I won't.

[marcaune]

Ten Years

Last Thursday was a most humble anniversary.

On August 8, 2003, I got a phone call that changed my life.  It was my senior pastor, asking me to come to church to speak with him.  It was on a Friday evening, so I was very curious to learn what could be so urgent at such an odd time.

Honestly, I assumed someone had died.  I hadn't suffered a familial loss in my life to that point, so I had no idea what the procedure would be if I were to lose someone close to me.  Would someone call or come to my house?  Asking me to come to church to give me the bad news seemed like a plausible way to do it (at least it did at the time).

I was pretty certain it was not work-related, since I had concluded my internship with the church a month earlier.  Interning one day a week (plus Sunday mornings) while working full time for a telephone call center had been a great season in my life, but I was forming some big plans for the future.  Days earlier, I had met with an admissions counselor at Bethel Seminary and I was seriously considering enrolling for the fall term.  That Friday in August, my plans changed.

When I arrived, I parked on the street by the northwest entrance—the same place I now park on most Sunday mornings, yet I don't recall ever parking there before that night—and saw a Toyota Camry that looked very similar to the kind my mom drove.  "Oh no, it must be my grandfather," I thought.  Anxiously, I went to the pastor's office.

It was not my mom's car.  Nobody had died.  Rather, the director of worship ministries had abruptly resigned.  I was asked to fill his role in the interim.  Seminary would have to wait, since I was about to work more over the next eight months than I ever had in my life: over 60 hours per week (40+ at the call center, 20+ at the church).

On April 4, 2004, I was hired to be the full-time director of worship ministries.  The next morning, I gave my two-week notice at Metro One Telecommunications and officially began my full-time work on Monday, April 19, 2004.  Between August 8, 2003, and April 4, 2004, I endured one of the most challenging times of my life.  There are more stories to be told, and one day I may get around to telling them.

I'm not entirely sure why I'm telling any of this story, except that it's a story that just about no one knows or remembers.  Even I had to look up the exact date.  It's funny that what ultimately turned out to be such a pivotal day in my life is one that nobody remembers or honors, myself included.

It makes some sense, since the man I was hired to replace did not leave on good terms.  I certainly don't want to remember that part and I'm sure no one else at the church does, either.  Even though the day started an incredible chapter in my life that led to a great career and, somewhat indirectly, a wonderful wife and kids, the lasting memory I have is sitting in my car on 15th Avenue after the meeting with my new boss and listening to Coldplay's The Scientist on repeat until I made it home that night:

Nobody said it was easy

It's such a shame for us to part

Nobody said it was easy

No one ever said it would be this hard

I was excited to have a job I never thought I would by age 22, but the way I got it left a sick feeling in my stomach.  I was let down.  Someone I had held up in high esteem had erred and I was to be the beneficiary of his mistakes.

I'll let the reader insert a memorable verse about God turning something bad into something good at this point, but I won't.  As I recount this story, it stirs up feelings I haven't felt in a long while.  They're not all pleasant feelings, but they're somehow necessary.  Remembering that night causes me to vacillate between humility, grief, gratitude, wonder, sadness, joy, disappointment, and more.

It's too simplistic to say that a bad thing led to a good thing.  It's more like chaos led to order.  All the feelings of that night are still with me, but they've come together to form a singular experience that is greater than the sum of its parts, while allowing the individual nature of each part to coexist in its own fullness.

There are a few other moments that I can remember as vividly as Friday, August 8, 2003, but I'm not sure any has had quite the same impact on the course of my life or who I have become.

[marcaune]

Whoa: More Thoughts

Whoa!  I have some more thoughts about gibberish words in worship.

This song came on the radio recently and it caused me to have a moment of revelation: Christians aren't the only ones who've (presumably) run out of words and chosen to resort to ohs, whoas, heys, and the like.  Indeed, a little googling research showed that five of the top 10 on Billboard's Hot 100 speak in tongues (or use sounds that aren't actual words in the English language):

2. Best Song Ever, One Direction

3. We Can't Stop, Miley Cyrus

4. Radioactive, Imagine Dragons

6. Treasure, Bruno Mars

9. Can't Hold Us, Macklemore & Ryan Lewis

If the popular culture is singing nonsense words like this, is it possible that making vocalizations like these could be used as part of a larger strategy to increase the accessibility of singing in worship?  Seems like a stretch...but is it, really?  Isn't the basic idea of contemporary worship to reflect the sound of contemporary music, to have a sound that is relevant to what's happening in popular culture?

[marcaune]

Don't Look Up

There's one vocal technique that I've seen so many professional worship leaders do wrong that I felt compelled to write a few words about it.

See our Hillsong friends here?  All the singers are looking up when they sing.  For some, it's just a slight turn, although there's one lady whose chin is tilted up so high that she looks like she's going to fall over backward.  All of them are making their voices work much harder than necessary.  Some of them are likely damaging their voices.

According to Larry Bach, Dean of the College of Fine Arts at North Central University and leader of a PWI breakout session on how to care for one's voice, lifting up one's chin causes tension in certain neck muscles.  Unnecessary tension is how we hurt our voices.

Try this: look straight ahead and sing "ee."  While still singing, slowly tilt your head down, then back up.  Do it a few times.  Then, stop, breathe, and return to looking straight ahead.  Do the same thing, looking up instead of down this time.

How did that feel?  When I do it, there's a little discomfort when I look up, in addition to a change in my tone for the worse.  Looking up may look more "worshipful" (ugh, I loathe that word), but maybe God would rather have us take good care of our bodies, voices and all, instead of abusing them in an effort to present a holy visage.

[marcaune]

Stories from PWI, Part V: Healing

Let me tell you about miraculous healing.

Yesterday, Brian Torwalt spoke in the afternoon general session. As part of his presentation, he shared a story about a miraculous healing that had happened to someone at a worship event he led. A kernel of hope began to develop in my mind that maybe, just maybe…

I went through physical therapy in the spring of 2012 for what the therapist believed to be a herniated disc. I learned exercises that would help me cope with the pain and was told that the pain would eventually dissipate, but I was also told that the disc would inevitably get injured again. The point of therapy was to strengthen the area around the disc to potentially reduce the risk of injury and to possibly speed the recovery time in the future.

The pain went away for a while, but it returned later in the summer. The pain then went away and returned a few months after that. The pain had come back a few weeks ago, but it was not going away.

Brian and Katie Torwalt led worship last night. About an hour into it, Brian started to prophesy about healing. He said that someone in the room was struggling with anxiety. Someone had diabetes. And someone had something wrong with their hip, and that maybe it was connected with the leg and lower back. Sure, you could say that it was kind of vague, but it also described the three things that are affected by this disc problem I have.

The pain from the disc shoots from my back, down through my right hip and leg all the way to my foot. At its worst, my foot randomly gives out when I’m trying to walk. Most of the time, it is just a constant annoyance.

Brian asked for those whose ailments met his description to raise their hands. I slowly lifted mine—from the elbow, not the shoulder. Then he asked for those who had not raised their hands to look at those with hands raised and to pray over them.

I quickly brought my hand down…and immediately I felt shame and regret.

All these thoughts stormed into my consciousness: I wanted Jesus to heal me. I didn’t want someone else to lay hands on me. Maybe Brian wasn’t really talking about me. Maybe there’s someone else who’s supposed to be healed who has the issues he described. Am I missing my chance for healing? What does this say about my faith? Jesus, this is not how your healing is supposed to come. I just wanted you to do it.

I left shortly thereafter. I pictured what it would look like when I told my wife what had happened. I wasn’t sure what to do next, but I felt compelled to confess to her what had happened: how I had doubted (I still wasn’t sure if it even was doubt, exactly) and how I might have missed my chance for healing. I drove home, hugged my kids, talked to my wife, and went to bed.

The pain left this morning. The pain that has made it difficult to put on socks and shoes. The pain that has made it unbearable to sit in traffic. The pain that makes me frustrated. The pain that makes me impatient. The pain that makes me irritable.

I’m moving cautiously everywhere I go—I just don’t want this moment to end. I can still feel the spot in my back where the disc is, but it’s not because of pain. It’s just there—it’s hard to explain.

I am so grateful, humbled, and in awe of Jesus. I haven’t experienced anything like this and I can’t wait to share the story with anyone who will listen.

[marcaune]

Stories from PWI, Part IV: What the Halal?

This morning, we got an experiential learning opportunity on the Seven Hebrew Words of Praise. The short version is that the word “praise” in our Bibles is translated from one of seven words in Hebrew that stresses different elements of praise. If you’re like me, you’re probably more familiar with the different Greek words for love. Or, perhaps you’ve heard the bit about all the different Eskimo words for snow. But I digress…

We were guided through each of the words and were asked to try to apply each one as we worshiped. The seventh and final word was halal: to shine, to celebrate, to sing, to act clamorously foolish. It was fun, scary, and exciting to try to follow God’s leading in acting like a fool (harder for me to do than you might think). It was not particularly easy, but I found my inspiration in observing a larger man, whose image is indelibly printed in my mind: eyes closed, violently waving his arms, doing the twist, all with a smile on his face that expressed shear joy and delight in his savior.

Halal be to God, indeed.

[marcaune]

Stories from PWI, Part III: Where's the Tech?

One of the truly baffling things about the Pure Worship Institute is the dearth of technology. Sure, there are some iPhones, but I think I'm the only one with a laptop and no one is even using a tablet. Perhaps what's more surprising is that people are taking notes. NOTES! With pens and paper! Is this a bad sign that worship leaders are such luddites, or a good sign that they are able to unplug for a few hours at a time?