The church I attend has recently moved to a new building. Or rather the outpost of the mother church I attend has moved to a new building. (I prefer outpost instead of church plant because it sounds more like we’re trying to tame the frontier. Don’t judge me, you don’t know my life.)
Yesterday, during the worship, I realized something for the first time in 38 years of church attendance.
I suck at singing.
I knew I wasn’t good. I’ve always known that, but for years, I hid safely under the blanket of loud music and large audiences. The church we attended in Atlanta had 42,000 people, in each row. It was massive. I could have screamed and not actually heard the horribleness that came out of my mouth yesterday. But because my current church is small and new, people aren’t singing yet. (You have to coax an audience to sing like teaching a small bird to fly.) During the first song the combined sound of Jenny and I singing hit me like a large round object used to demolish buildings. (I’ve already hit my quota for wrecking ball jokes this year.)
I started looking around for the poor cat that was being tortured and realized it was us! The Acuffs were the source!
I guess I always thought that angels liked my voice, that in the whole “the rocks will cry out” my voice was part of a heavenly melody. Now I know the truth, my voice is just one more part of my life that requires grace.
Are you horrible at singing too? Or is it just me?
