Do you hear what I hear?

I think I've mentioned before, that in the past, I've sang on a worship team. And last year I decided to try my hand at being on the technology side of the worship team and run the computer system. A few weeks ago I reluctantly offered to sing on the worship team. I haven't stood in front of a microphone in 20 years! I don't know what I was thinking!

It went fine the first week. I was nervous, but nothing critical. And then... last week happened.

We always rehearse on Thursday night. Rehearsal went good and I arrived early on Sunday morning to practice, like we always do. But there was something in the air Sunday morning. I could feel it. Since I was the first one there, I decided to pray for our worship time. I had to do something to get rid of that uneasy feeling in the air. I was walking around the church, praying silently, when the others arrived, and practice was soon underway.

But Sunday morning practice did not go as smoothly as Thursday night rehearsal. There was some conflict and changes, and I was not comfortable with anything. And there was still that uneasy heaviness in the air. God, please, I don't like that feeling at all.

My life the last two weeks had been a struggle - mostly at work - but I had been praying continually for God to make His presence known. A sign... something! I know that may sound odd to some people, but I don't like it when life gets so loud and chaotic that I can't hear His voice. There are times when the chaos is self-inflicted, but it didn't feel like that this time. This time felt like I was getting pelted by fireballs of chaos from every side. All I could feel and see was the chaos. I needed to see God. I needed to feel His presence. And that heaviness, I didn't like that heaviness in the air.

Church started. The music started. Things seemed to be going okay. Maybe I had just been imagining that uneasiness in the air. It was probably work getting the best of me. I took a deep breath and tried to blow out the tension I felt in my chest. As I drew in air to breathe, I took a moment to listen, really listen. Nothing was right. I couldn't hear the music, or what I did hear, didn't seem right. I couldn't hear voices. And that uneasy heaviness had turned into a strange emptiness. Like a giant void.

Part of me wanted to scream, just to see if the void would echo back. But I just stood there, not knowing what to do. I know I missed the first two songs, or at least I felt like I did. As our worship team leader was praying before communion, I kept thinking - I should be listening to what he's saying - but I couldn't. I couldn't hear him over the deafening silence of the void in the room. I stood there, praying and wondering if anyone else could hear the void.

God, please, I don't know what's happening here, but we need you. I need you. I need to know you're here.

I stood there, praying, when I heard the music start. Her voice is always so soft and pretty. I still struggled to hear the music fully, but I could hear her. I finally found my voice. Not completely, but I felt words escaping. I even recognized the song. My brain was starting to make sense of things again. And then it hit me. God, no! I'm supposed to lead the last song. I can't even tell if I'm really hearing real music, let alone sing! I can't do this!

What happened next changed me. My brain engaged just long enough to hear the entrance chords to the last song. I opened my mouth to sing and I failed. The words came out, but not on key and not like they were supposed to. The last thought I remember was "God, I need you." But even as the prayer became a thought, the most wonderful thing happened. God opened my ears. I stood there at the microphone, barely able to speak, but all I could hear was the congregation singing. Singing the words I couldn't. It filled the void. It filled the room. It filled my heart.

Every hair on my arms stood up. Tears filled my eyes. It was the most beautiful sound I'd ever heard. And as the void completely disappeared, I stood there thinking - this is what God hears when we worship Him. This is how He feels when we lift Him up in song and praise. And He loves it so much, that He is here with us. God filled the void.

I don't know what happened that Sunday morning. I don't know if that was meant just for me or if anyone else felt the uneasiness in the room. I don't know if anyone else felt the void or the complete fullness of His presence in it's absence. Maybe it was all for me. It doesn't matter. It doesn't even matter that my presence on the worship team was a complete miss that morning. That morning gave me a peek, however small, of how significant our actions are. How the things we take for granted, like worship and prayer, affect our relationship with God.

I was at my most vulnerable that morning, standing in front of that microphone. I had given up, in so many ways. But something about that uneasiness in the air made me feel like I was praying for everyone, for me, for life and death. Maybe it was just my life. Maybe it was my desperation. Maybe God was just saving me. But He gave me a sliver of heaven. Enough to silence some of the chaos. Enough to give me focus and peace. Enough to know the difference between worship and noise.

God wants to be with us. He wants to sit with us and hear our prayers and our worship. I needed that reminder. I needed that reminder of how different it feels - the void and the fullness of God. But I shouldn't have to get to that level of desperation in order to see or feel the fullness. Lesson learned.

Ephesians 5:19 ESV

Addressing one another in psalms and hymns and spiritual songs, singing and making melody to the Lord with your heart.