Have you ever sat near someone at church who could sing? In the middle of worship you hear an angelic voice floating up not from the stage but from your row radius or pew proximity? Oh, sweet Moses, that is a majestic experience.
And now that I live in Nashville, a city comprised of 51% musicians and 49% professional photographers, that is happening a lot more often. But when it does, here is what goes through my head:
1. Hark, what is that sound I hear?
2. Why did I use the word “Hark,” in my head? How come my internal dialog is always in Old English?
3. I’m glad I didn’t say “OE,” because then I probably would have thought about pouring out a little for my homies that didn’t make it.
4. I want to turn around and see where this amazing singer is sitting, but I’m afraid that if I look at them it will break the moment. They probably won’t fly away like the blue jays that sit out on our bird feeder when I try to take a photo, but be cool Acuff, don’t blow this.
5. That voice is amazing! Why aren’t they in the choir?
6. Oh yeah, we don’t have a choir. Which I’m fine with, but would it kill us to do the singing Christmas Tree thing just once? Is there anything better than a human tree of robes and hymns?
7. OK, so no go on the choir, but why isn’t this person singing backup on stage with the worship team?
8. Maybe they’re a lone wolf, a one person wolfpack if you will. They can’t be tied down to a schedule, but just sing wherever the wind takes them. Like that girl from the Patrick Swayze song.
9. I wonder if I can sit near them next week? Would that be awkward if after church I tried to guess who it was and said, “Hey, you’ve got a really beautiful voice. Can my wife and I sit near you next Sunday? Where are you planning to sit? We’re not crazy or anything. I promise!
10. Ahh, “We’re not crazy,” is exactly what crazy people always say.
11. Hark! Am I crazy?
12. And what if I guess the wrong person? Would it be weird if when I talk to them in the lobby, I ask them to sing a few bars of “Amazing Grace” for me? Probably.
13. If they do sing for me and I realize it’s not them, what do I say? “Oh whoops, wasn’t you. Never mind. Thanks for singing for me though. Bit pitchy for me dog.”
14. Will I have to tell the a polite lie like, “Let’s grab coffee sometime?”
15. This is all getting pretty complicated, What Would Jesus Do?
16. Was there a time when the disciples sang songs? Was that in the Bible? Maybe Peter was the deep bass guy that every men’s group has, like Danny Wood, “the muscular guy” in New Kids on The Block. Maybe that’s why they call Peter the Rock?
17. How long is this song we’re singing? Seventeen points? Seriously.
Eventually, during moments like that, my wife will elbow me and say, “Stop writing posts in your head.” Then I’ll say, “I was worshipping in the unique way God made me.” And then it becomes this whole thing.
Now clearly, all 17 points haven’t happened to you cause I’m weird, but have you ever sat next to someone at church who had an amazing voice?
