FOR THE LOVE OF GOD, SING! - By Melody Kuphal

We’re supposed to sing in worship.  At least, the majority of the churches near me are asking the congregation to sing in worship.  Some use an organ, some use a piano, some use a band, and some go with voices only.  So, naturally, everyone attending churches in my area sings every song – 100% participation – right?

Not right?

Well, why not?

Have we concluded that singing in worship is optional?

OF COURSE a music person thinks it’s important to sing in worship! With the name “Melody,” my opinion is going to be biased, so let’s check a different source.  How many times does the word “sing” appear in the Bible?

Well, to be honest, I haven’t personally counted, but it seems like a lot.  So I did a non-scientific study - I Googled it!

According to Ask.com, “sing” appears in the Bible 121 times with the count rising to 209 using the New English Translation.  If God asked us to do it dozens of times, I would think it was important, but we’re talking over one hundred times!

So, if someone is not singing in church, why not?

Reason #1 - “I don’t know the song.”

OK, that’s not a bad reason, but let me ask you this very personal question: Does that stop you in the car or in the shower?  Now, we could really have some fun quoting mispronounced lyrics or reenacting times when you jumped in with both feet on a song you didn’t really know because you were having fun.  I don’t know how your church is programming music, but we try and pick songs that have a lot of repetition in them and we make sure each worship service has a heavy diet of “familiar” music with some “newer music” sprinkled in – usually being introduced in the prelude or the offering slot about a month before we ask the congregation to sing it – until the new music becomes part of the “familiar.”  In addition, we’ve got Spotify links with each weekend’s worship songs.  I’d encourage you to give it a shot!

Reason #2 - “I’d rather listen to the professionals/band/choir.”

That’s a talented group of gifted leaders you’re talking about.  They put in a lot of hours of preparation to lead the congregation in song.  

But here’s the thing: it’s not a concert – it’s a worship service.

Yes, there are times music groups offer a presentational musical gift (for our church, that’s during the prelude and the offering) but, if your church is providing lyrics, that’s the part of worship when you’re supposed to sing. Besides, singing with really great musicians is really fun!

Reason #3 - “I Can’t Sing” and/or “I’m embarrassed.”

Well, friends, you are in good company.  But, your Daddy -  your Perfect Heavenly Father - asked you to.  If you don’t think he’s given you a voice sufficient to praise Him, well, I’m pretty certain you are mistaken.  If you have a little one in your life – a child, grandchild, etc. – how talented do they need to be for you to want to hear their song of praise about YOU?  Factor in that our God is the Perfect Parent and He loves to hear songs from His children (Yes, this includes those who communicate without their voice.  If you have never witnessed worship using sign language, I encourage you to find an opportunity!).

Maybe you just don’t like to sing in worship.

You may not like the people near you.

You may not like the music your church chooses.

But this is your church family.
God called you into corporate worship for a reason.  Don’t confuse your preferences with obedience to what your Loving Father has instructed you to do.

Friends, I am encouraging you to step out in faith, lifting your hearts and voices in song.  I’m not asking you to LEAD the singing – not everyone is equipped to do that – but God has given all of us a voice more than sufficient to praise Him.

Please, join us in singing!

Melody L. Kuphal is the Director of Music at Hosanna! Lutheran Church in St. Charles, IL. She has recorded six albums, four of which are specifically aimed toward kids singing in worship. Melody is also currently working on her doctoral thesis from the Robert Webber Institute of Worship Studies. www.MelodysMusic.com

ARE YOU ON THE LIST - By Heather Homan

Washington D.C. The networking capital of the world.

So many people in the DC area pride themselves on being included on “private” evite lists, being invited to the latest “exclusive party”, and being part of the “inner circle”.

When I first moved to DC, I too got caught up in the political and socialite whirlwind circle of exclusive parties, high-profile galas, and invite only events.

Having worked in politics for over a decade, including a stint on Capitol Hill, I was in the thick of it.

Often, being on “the list” was synonymous with networking survival in this town.

Sure it was fun for a season, but it pains me how much time I wasted focusing on things that didn’t really matter.

Truly, none of that stuff matters in the end. None of it.

And more importantly, there’s a whole other world out there.

If Jesus were walking the earth today, where would He focus His time?

Would he care about being served fancy appetizers at black-tie events?

Jesus came to serve, not to be served.  He dined with sinners.  He talked to the adulterous woman at the well.  It’s not the healthy who need a doctor, but the sick.

During the past few years, God convicted me to focus on what really matters and I’ve started to readjust my priorities.

It wasn’t easy.  I gave up things I loved.  Romantic relationships I knew were not equally yoked.  A political career I had spent over a decade fine-tuning.  Material possessions that were weighing me down financially.  Yes, I loved these things.  But I loved Jesus more.

I know God’s not done with me yet, and I still have many character defects, but I am confident God will finish what He started.

My greatest fear is living a dull, mediocre life.  I want to be bold and on fire for Christ’s kingdom.

A boldness so real I can face the world fearless and feel His strength running through my veins, daily.

I want to hug and comfort orphans who have been abandoned and show them the love of Christ.  I want to pray with the sick and those who have suffered from emotional and physical trauma.  I want to comfort those who mourn and offer a kind word, or even a hug.

None of these things I want can be done in my own strength.  To live out these desires, I’ll need to be overflowing with the love of Jesus, or else face burnout and crumble under the enormous weight of self-sufficiency and false humility.

My heart is to go out on the international mission field, full-time.  To the remote corners of the world.  To the places most people don’t want to go.

Christ shows up big-time when we’re bold.  I’ve seen it.

He doesn’t call us to live isolated from the world in our own comfort bubbles.  I realize your calling may not be international missions, and that’s okay.

But embrace the brokenness around you, don’t run from it.  Talk to the addicts.  Feed the homeless.  Reconnect and repair damaged relationships.  Love hard.  Say you’re sorry.  And when you’re wrong, promptly admit it.  Be humble.  Stop wasting time.  At minimal, be kind.

We’re all broken.  Some more than others, but we all have our battles.

At the end of our lives, when we stand before our heavenly Father, those of us who have confessed Jesus as Lord and believed God raised Him from the dead will be on “the list”.

If you’re on that list, praise God.  Now, I want to encourage you to devote your time to bring as many people along with you.

We only have a finite amount of time.

Build your network for eternity.  In the end, that’s the only list that really matters.

More from Heather Homan

Beauty From Ashes

NOT WORTHY, BUT WILLING - By Rick DeVries

I love my parents.  I give God thanks that they raised me to love Jesus and love others.  

Are they perfect – no.

Am I perfect – far from it.

Have we had our heated disagreements over the years – yes.

Ten years ago when I was called into full time church ministry out of the corporate world, I sought feedback from my family as part of my discernment process.  My mom wisely said “son, you are too prideful to work at a church.”  

She was right.  

Just a few years ago in the heat of a nasty argument, my dad heartily told me “you don’t love your family like you need to and have no business working at a church.”  

He was right.
Did I mention that I love my parents?

The emotional response to my mom’s statement was, well, prideful, “Oh I’ll show her, I’ll be the most humble staffer that ever walked the halls of a church building.”  

By the way, I’m still working on it and I’m nowhere near where I need to be in the humility department.  But the emotional response to my dad several years later was strangely different ... no bitterness, no hurt, no pride.  I prayed about what he said and as often happens in my relational interactions with God - I cannot explain it - Judges 6 came into my mind.  As I’ve learned to do, I promptly opened up the nearest Bible.

Here was the tale of a Hebrew peasant farmer by the name of Gideon. His story can be read in about 15 minutes in the Old Testament book of Judges.  This man’s people had strayed off of God’s path and as a result, the ruthless heathen Midianites had conquered and ruled over them – burning and pillaging their lands in an attempt to starve them out of existence.  We meet Gideon secretly working on making flour in order to help feed his family.  He was putting himself and his family at great risk, when a stranger appears out of nowhere catching him in the act.  Picture Gideon’s reaction, expecting the worst, when the stranger pipes up and says, “Mighty hero, the LORD is with you.”  We can imagine a Twitter post from Gideon’s account in the moment:

LOL, lowly captive, cowering, farmer, me, Gideon a mighty hero? #GetRealDude :-/

Not recognizing the stranger as an emissary of God, Gideon gets a bit belligerent, accusing God of forgetting about him, his family, and the Hebrew people.  And strangely, I can relate.  Pride?  Bitterness? Understandable reactions?  But now that he had Gideon’s attention, the stranger then piles on, telling Gideon something he could have never expected – God has chosen him to defeat the Midianites and rescue the entire nation of Israel.

More than slightly overwhelmed by the enormity of the challenge given to him, Gideon backpedals ... explaining why he is the least qualified individual, in the lowest family, in the smallest tribe of the whole country.  He’s a farmer, not a warrior.  He has no gift of strategy, no training in battle tactics.  Then through the spokesperson, the voice of God says, “I will be with you.”  An interesting mix of fear, reverence, and confidence flows through him; but to say the least, ‘wishy-washy’ best describes his reactions for the remainder of his story ... and I will leave it to you to read the rest of the account yourself.

The bottom line take-away for me after reading through Gideon’s story, (and as it related to my reactions following my dad’s statement,) was that like Gideon I’m in no way prepared to be the spouse, the parent, the friend, the mentor, the leader that God needs me to be.  None of us are prepared – everyone has baggage ... bad decisions, harmful habits, hurtful words or actions, deep emotional wounds, consuming guilt, poor self-image, fearful anxiety, lacking resources or abilities, quick temper, misplaced priorities, and the list could go on.  

Gideon was a mess, I am still a mess. Maybe you are a mess too.

In the days after Jesus’ resurrection, Christ met with his followers giving them their marching orders prior to his ascension up to heaven. This passage has become known as the Great Commission.  This talk closes with Jesus making the same promise to us, his followers, as God made to Gideon: “I will be with you”.  You see, in God’s eyes – because of the life, death, and resurrection of Jesus – our messes don’t matter as long as, like the peasant farmer-hero, we have a single grain’s worth of faithful obedience.  In fact, the New Testament writer of the book of Hebrews mentions our reluctant hero hundreds of years after Gideon’s story unfolded.

You see, thankfully, God can work through us in spite of our weaknesses.  Gideon didn’t feel he was worthy to be used by God, but he was willing to give it a try.  Yes, mom and dad, I certainly am also not worthy, but I prayerfully keep trying to be willing and am a work in process.  If any of you aren’t sure God has a plan for your life – rest assured that he does.  Crawl out of your self-imposed hiding place mess, lean into Jesus’ promise that he “will be with you”, and get ready for an adventure.

You don’t have to be worthy, just be willing.

THE WHYS - By Kristen Gorski

Whenever I need a reminder of how much good there is in the world, I look at my son.  He reminds me, over and over again, what love looks like.  In the fall, he collects acorns and leaves them on our front step for the squirrels.  He always worries they won't have enough food to make it through winter.  When his brothers are sick, he gathers up his favorite stuffed animals and offers them as a get well soon present.  He wakes me up in the middle of the night, just to say, "Mom, I can't stop thinking about how much I love you."   He has a big heart filled to the brim with goodness.

Which is why it is so hard for me to see him struggle - and he struggles a lot.  He has what we in the special needs parenting world refer to as an alphabet soup of disorders.  They all have important, scary sounding names and they all mean that my son's brain isn't wired to easily function in the chaotic, confusing, complex world we live in.

Everyday life is a challenge for him and it can be gut-wrenching for me to watch him face it.

I have believed in God all my life, but when my son was first diagnosed five years ago, I decided God and I were on a break.  I unceremoniously cut Him out of my life.  Armed with a 19-page neurological evaluation and a list of recommended next steps, I was ready to go to battle for my son - and God wasn’t invited.  Instead, I filled up all the places where He used to be with determined self-reliance and a rather large dose of “righteous” anger.

In the weeks and months that followed, I was on a mission.  I enrolled our son in a special needs preschool.  I speed-read books about developmental disorders and highlighted the important parts for my husband.  I researched therapies, medications and specialized diets.  I filled our calendar with therapy sessions and doctors’ appointments.

I didn’t talk to God about any of it.

Then came the day when I finished everything on the list of recommended next steps.  “What should we do next?” I asked my son’s behavior therapist, “What else can we do?”  “You’re doing everything!  You’re doing all the right things,” she told me, “I wish that every parent would be as proactive as you.”  I know she was trying to reassure me.  Instead, I was devastated and terrified.  We were doing everything we could possibly do…and my son was still struggling. He might always be struggling.

Suddenly, after months of having nothing to say, I couldn’t stop talking to God – yelling at Him, actually.

Why would you let this happen to my son?

Why would you do this any child?

Why don’t you make it better?”

I raged “WHY, WHY, WHY… ???

Infuriatingly, no matter how much I yelled, God remained silent.

One night, my son was going through a period of exceptionally awful sleep and I had been up with him for hours.  He’d finally drifted off stretched out across my lap and I just sat there in the dark, staring at his perfect little face, experiencing that lost and lonely feeling that is so easy to stumble into at 3:30 am.  “Where are you, God?” I whispered, “Where are You?  I’m scared.  I don’t know how to do this.  I need you to help me, but I don’t know where You are.”

A few days later, I got my answer.

We had eaten dinner at my parents’ house and were rushing to get home for bedtime.  Tired and overstimulated, my son refused to put on his shoes.  He didn’t like the way his socks felt.  I sent my husband and two other boys out to the car and knelt on the floor, straightening and re-straightening his socks until the seams finally lined up perfectly with his toes.  I shoved his shoes on and ran out the door, leaving my purse behind.  When I came back in to get it, my dad stopped me and said, “I can’t believe how patient you are with him.  When did you get to be so patient?”

My Dad and I have a lot of things in common, but patience has never been one of them.  Yet, somehow, I had become patient - endlessly patient - with my son.  Where had all that patience come from?  It became obvious that even though I had cut God out, He hadn’t cut me out.  I’d been so busy running around trying to fix everything myself that I hadn’t noticed He’d been busy too.  While I’d ignored Him and then spent months bombarding Him with angry outbursts and demands for an explanation, He’d quietly been filling me up with patience.

I understood in that moment that God had always been right there with me.  I’d just been too angry and scared to realize it.

I wish I could say that was the last time I ever let anger and fear separate me from God, but that’s not the case.  It’s something I struggle with all the time.  When the sick get better, when anger gives way to forgiveness, when help finds those who need it – it’s easy for me to see God at work in our lives.

But sometimes there isn’t a happy ending; things don’t always get tied up with a neat little bow.  Sometimes diseases aren’t cured and relationships fall apart and help doesn’t come.  Life can be messy and complicated and hard.  It’s easy to lose sight of God during the messy, complicated, hard stuff.  It’s easy to get stuck on the “whys”.  At least for me it is.

Here’s the thing though:  God never promises us life is going to be easy or fair.  He doesn’t promise that we are always going to understand it.  What He does promise, is that if we put our trust in Him, He will never abandon us.  He promises “When you go through deep waters, I will be with you.”

So when fear and doubt creep into my life and start to pull me away from God, I try to focus less on asking “Why?” and more on asking “Where are You, God?”

Because the answer to that question is always, “I am here.”

Whenever I feel defeated, whenever I feel like I can’t make it through, I remind myself I don’t have to try to do it on my own.  As long as I turn to God and put my faith in Him, I will never walk alone.

HIS PLAN - By Kevin Fernow

By all accounts I have lived a blessed life.  I was raised in a strong, loving family.  I was rarely denied an opportunity I wished to pursue due to health, money or similar challenges that often become roadblocks in life.  While life certainly has not been perfect, I’ve been blessed with far more ups than downs and I thank God for his guiding hand in this.

God always seems to balance the good with the bad for me.  As a young adult, my home life was a bit in turmoil as my dad battled severe alcoholism, ultimately passing from his inability to put down the bottle for good.  This was the same time that my relationship matured from a young high school love to the dependence and unity of “us”, a partnership my wife Brandy and I still enjoy today.  Distance, both physically and emotionally, from our families while away at college left a void that God filled for us through each other.

Following college, Brandy and I began professional careers in Chicago and we went about planning our “happily ever after”.  We were the first in our circle of friends to marry at the age of 23.  Next on our life-list was home ownership.  Check.  Five years later we planned for the next phase of our story - finding more family-friendly jobs and moving to the suburbs as we prepared for parenthood.

And this is where our perfect plan, our carefully plotted roadmap, somehow got re-routed.  This was when we learned that our plans took a back seat to HIS plan; where the most basic of God given rights, procreation, was denied to us - even though the very first book of the Bible literally states we were created to multiply.

Did this somehow not apply to us?

Initially we viewed infertility as an inconvenience – a major and EXPENSIVE one – that we assumed we would conquer through prayer, patience, and medical assistance.  For a guy who isn’t particularly fond of even the most routine doctor visits, the fertility experience was a real treat!  As time went on and success eluded us, it became a deeply personal, quiet struggle that left me questioning many things.  If Psalm 127:3 states Children are a gift from the Lord, offspring a reward from him.  “What did I do to not earn this reward” I thought?  However, reading further the book of Proverbs says “the heart of man plans his way, but the Lord establishes his steps…Many are the plans in the mind of a man, but it is the purpose of the Lord that will stand.”

After a few years writing way too many checks with way too many zeros, we set out on a new journey with a revised path to parenthood through adoption.  We refocused our prayers and accepted that getting pregnant was not truly our goal, nor God’s plan.  Rather, having children was what we desired.

Admittedly this initially felt like a consolation prize as I moved through the grieving and acceptance process.  As we learned more about adoption however, any reluctance turned to genuine excitement and optimism.  While we did not know how long it would take, parenthood most certainly awaited us, though so did an entirely new set of challenges along the way.  After we discerned this was our path, we dutifully completed our new checklist.

The adoption qualification process was invasive in an entirely different way than fertility treatments with fingerprints, background checks, financial and health assessments, letters of recommendation, interviews and home visits with social workers, required training and assortment of other requirements (do you have a fire escape ladder for your house?).  I couldn’t help but think all parents should have to apply to God through a similar process before he qualifies anyone and rewards them with offspring…can you imagine?  Then there was the adoption profile we created, a marketing brochure of sorts full of pictures and stories selling our best qualities to prospective birth mothers on the virtues of choosing us as parents for their child.  No pressure there.

With our paperwork complete we were officially licensed to parent.  We were excited to be “live” with our profile and officially “on the market” so to speak.  The hard work had been done, it was time to wait and turn it over to God’s will.  Of course this was much easier said than done.

About a month went by when we got a call.  A mother with an adoption plan had given birth to a baby boy.  Her initial adoption plan had fallen through and she selected us as potential parents for an in-person meeting, the ultimate blind date!  After our meeting we were informed she indeed wanted to move forward.  We joyfully called our families to share our news, at last we were on the cusp of our dream.  We hurried to the store and bought formula and infant diapers as we had made a conscious decision not to fill our house with newborn items unsure how long we would wait.  The following day we set out for the hour drive with an empty car seat and full hearts, ready to meet our son.  About 30 minutes in the phone rang, stop driving we were told, she had not shown up and was unreachable.  We pulled into a parking lot and waited and cried…this was not our son after all.

This was a particularly hard setback to take.  We felt empty and alone.  I felt betrayed and was angry, not at the birth mother, but at the situation and the outcome.  I even found a way to be disappointed in myself, that we had let our guard down and had been so optimistic, that we allowed ourselves to emotionally invest, if only for a day.

We picked ourselves up and moved forward, a bit more educated and more guarded emotionally, but still hopeful for what awaited.

I wait for the Lord, my soul waits, and in his word I hope.

Psalm 130:5

 

Another month or so later we were again selected by a young woman and the father of her baby for an in-person meeting.  This time at a different restaurant located in a different suburb.  We were chosen to be the parents should they move forward with an adoption plan.  A few days later another baby boy was born.  After being discharged from the hospital the baby was placed in foster care overnight as the mother finalized her decision.  The next day we were informed she would indeed parent, more heart break, again this was not our son.  

More than that, we rejoice in our sufferings, knowing that suffering produces endurance, and endurance produces character,

and character produces hope.

Romans 5:3

A few months passed and we were contacted by a birthmother named Laurie living in Maryland who was seven months pregnant with a baby boy.  After several weeks getting to know each other thru email we planned a trip to D.C. to meet in person.  By this time, we had perfected our mode of operation, protecting our psyche from the very real possibility of another letdown.  Every bit of excitement such as sharing of the ultrasound was tempered with a self-reminder that this baby was not ours, at least not yet.

I felt robbed that we could not indulge in the traditional celebrations of expecting parents.  We only confided our news with close friends who happened to be at the same point of the adoption process at the same time.  During our visit Laurie asked us what we would like to name the baby, while this furthered our optimism, it was against our emotional-defense strategy.  We waited a few more weeks and as the due date approached finally shared a name with Laurie, it had Scottish origins and included a subtle nod to her local baseball team.  The due date passed and Laurie was scheduled for inducement.

As we packed the car for a much longer road trip, we finally shared the news with family, we were once again headed to meet our son.  On April 29th a healthy, big boy was born.  Again there were tears, this time they were tears of joy, his name was Camden and we finally rejoiced as God had delivered our son.

This the day the LORD has made;

we will rejoice and be glad in it.

Psalm 118:24