When I Found Myself Loving Listening to Tone-Deaf Guy

Hopefully, this will be just the first of several blogs that are rooted in the Linger Conference.  This weekend was amazing.  The conference was just a time to linger in the presence of God; just be with God, and concentrate on the basic and central things of relationship and  spirituality.  I'm still processing, but this first installment is about a man who can't sing at all.

At one of the sessions, during worship, this loud voice came not-ringing out from behind me.  It startled me, honestly, and distracted me, because this man could not sing.  I mean, really, could. not. sing.  I can sing.  I like singing a lot.  I'm not Adele, but it's very important to me.  I was glad when the crowd drowned this guy out.  He must be totally tone deaf, but he has volume.  He can sort of yell, and can do it loudly.  It's hard to describe, but it was truly honestly bad.  The definition of "joyful noise."  So, I just tried to politely ignore his terrible singing.  Then, the next session came along.

For the last session of the conference, this man sat about four seats to the left of me.  I resigned myself to another session of ignoring him.  So, John Piper preached, and I noticed this guy diligently took notes and was intent on the teaching.  Then, as soon as worship started, he started up again.  He knew every word to every single song.  He caught onto what the song was before hardly anyone else near us.  It struck me as actually impressive how someone so non-musically-inclined could love and know music so well.  Then, I realized how judgmental I was being.  I realized that God enjoys this guy's praise JUST AS MUCH as he enjoys mine; maybe even more.  That man worshiped with more abandon and devotion than anyone.  He was brave enough to sing out even when it was completely unpleasant to everyone around.  I don't think he was being inconsiderate; he was just worshiping God like everyone else there.  Juxtapose that with the worship leader that morning who was doing runs and raising hands and who could sing beautifully, but (and I could be totally wrong here, I can't judge her heart) who seemed to me sort of disingenuous and showy.  I much preferred my tone deaf guy.  His sincere worship and abandon moved me.  God loved it.  Tone-deaf-guy was equal to me.  God saves and loves each of us completely and equally.  There is nothing we can do to fix ourselves.  We can't become better singers to make God happier; he's happy with us just as we are.  Like your little baby who makes you just beam with joy when they smile when they see you, but then who poops all over your favorite shirt.  You adore them anyway; you even love them when they ruin everything around them.

As worship continued, I found myself actually intentionally listening to tone-deaf-guy - actually enjoying him, thanking God for him, loving listening to him.  I was seeking out his voice in the crowd.  He was brave.  He was free.  He was beautiful.  His worship was beautiful.  And it humbled me, and it taught me that grace makes all of those material, momentary, things meaningless, and so we can move through life utterly free.

"I stand before almighty God alone,

I yield my need to cast the blame or stone..." - Song

"For by grace you have been saved through faith.  And this is not your own doing; it is the gift of God, not a result of works, so that no one may boast."  Ephesians 2:8-9

Can't get no satisfaction

I find that people are ridiculous. I desperately want to get married and have babies. There is nothing I want more in this world than to be a mom - no higher calling in my book. I cry because I don't have that; yet, my married-with-babies friends cry because they do.  We are ridiculous. We are fickle creatures.

I am angry with myself for being sad.
I am angry with myself for being so unsatisfied.
I am angry with myself for not living, for waiting.
I am angry with myself for realizing this but not being able to do a darn thing about it.
I am tired of all of tears I've shed because I am constantly not-chosen.
I am tired of the broken record of '6 years' that my heart leaks.
I am tired of being unhappy when I have soooo much to be happy about.
I am tired of overlooking blessings because I thought I would have different ones by now.
I am disappointed that I have so much to satisfy, yet that I have so little satisfaction.

"We are half hearted creatures fooling about with drink and sex and ambition when infinite joy is offered us, like an ignorant child who wants to go on making mud pies in a slum because he can't imagine what is meant by the offer of a holiday at the sea. We are far too easily pleased." C.S. Lewis