Tuning, Performing, Leading, Worshipping

My friend Kelly Crull says that I'm a worship leader. He really is a worship leader, and a good one. I respect his opinion on most things. He even convinced me to buy a mac, for which I am extremely grateful.

But I usually disagree with Kelly when he says I'm a worship leader. I want to be one, I'm learning, I lead worship sometimes. I sing, play guitar, help lead art stuff, try to facilitate hands-on worship, etc. But I don't know if I would call myself a worship leader. To me, a worship leader does exactly what the name says--they lead people into worship. They walk a fine line between being in front (sometimes) to lead people but getting out of the way so people can really interact with God, not themselves. Kelly (Crull, not me) is really good at this. I want to be, but I'm not yet. I'm new at it. I guess I'll get better at it as time passes. But until then, I don't know why, but I have a hard time calling myself a worship leader.

Part of this probably comes from a very performance-oriented background. The good kid. The good student. The good singer. The piano major. The good Christian. To be totally honest, I'm used to being good at things, or at least being seen as being good at things. But since moving to Spain, I have had to do things that I'm not good at, that I'm just learning. Church planting is a learning-intensive field to say the least. You see a need, and sometimes you just have to step up and fill it even if you don't feel ready. Sometimes you can't wait until you're polished and perfected and in your nice evening gown after practicing 6 hours a day for months. Once you're outside of piano performance, the world just doesn't work that way. Life doesn't wait for you to get good at things.

And honestly, who is good at anything, really, when they're just 25? But that's a whole other post.

So anyway, I started leading worship singing before I was "ready." I still don't feel ready. I make tons of mistakes and have to work hard to learn new chords, and lets face it, my bar chords still suck. I can sing and play, but I have a really hard time talking and playing at the same time.

Of course, I know that worship is more than music, and leading worship goes much deeper than musical skill. But I think that this is just starting to sink in to me. So maybe it's good that I'm not "good" at it yet. Maybe it's helping me learn just to worship, imperfect as I am.

Yesterday is a good example. I was leading us in the singing part of our worship. I had new strings that weren't staying in tune well (my fault for waiting until the night before to put on new strings), so before the last set of songs, while a powerpoint to a Derek Webb song was playing, I quietly used my little tuner to get things back in order. One of the strings was flat. I turned the peg and tried again. Still flat--no change, actually. I turned some more. Still flat. That's when I realized I was turning the wrong peg. (rookie mistake, I know). I quickly fixed the tuning, but the powerpoint was about to end, and I was up next. There wasn't time to fix it well enough. When I started to play, my B-string sounded sharp.

So during the chorus of the first song, I strummed the first chord and we sang a cappella. And I tried to turn the peg (of the right string this time) to get it back in shape, singing the whole time. The next chord I strummed, it was flat. Oh crap. This went on for two entire songs. I never did get it back in tune. We ended up singing the last half of the last song a cappella--I gave up. I was super frustrated and sure I had ruined the worship experience for all the people in the room.

But when I looked around the room, not one eye was on me. Actually, very few eyes were open. Here I was, worried about how well I was playing in front of people, and there they were, singing their hearts out, oblivious to my tuning dilemma. They were worshipping.

I still stand by my statement that I am not yet a worship leader. But God is. Maybe none of us are worship leaders yet, even Kelly Crull. Maybe leading worship has much less to do with the leader and much more to do with worship. Maybe worship centered around Jesus isn't about me at all. These are all things that I know in my head, but I'm just starting to learn in my heart.

So I will keep learning from my mistakes. I will keep trying new things and pushing my own tight little boundaries of what is and is not worship. I will go for excellence, but first I will keep trying to get my little performance-bound self out of my own way so I can worship. I will look to Jesus, my own worship leader, to lead me as I lead others.

One day, I will be a worship leader.

One reason my roommate Amy is fantastic

Two-thirty p.m. A conversation:

Kelly: (from favorite comfy chair, stretching sore muscles from gym/salsa) Alright. I'm making a move. My feet are on the floor. I'm going to brush my teeth and get dressed.

Amy: (from the couch, under a comfy blanket) You said yesterday your plan was to stay in your pajamas all day (pajamas prounounced wrong--like blueberry jam. Everybody knows it's a short a).

Kelly: I need to feel productive.

Amy: And this will make you productive?

Kelly: Yes.

Amy: I just don't want you to not meet the goal you set yesterday. You don't want to be thought of as a quitter.

Kelly: I have to blog this. (proceeds to type, computer on her lap, still in pajamas and unbrushed teeth.)

Modesty and the Spanish Gym

Most Americans I know, at least in the area I'm from, have a deeply rooted sense of modesty when it comes to showers. After growing up in a house full of girls, enduring the locker room for high school gym class, four years of dorm life, and a steady stream of roommates, I have learned that there has always been an unspoken point when you know to look away if someone is changing, or to stay out of the bathroom, or to make sure your towel is long enough. If at all possible, avoid showering in public places. We go out of our way to keep from feeling awkward or making other people feel awkward.

I might even go a little farther in my skewed sense of propriety--I feel awkward writing this blog because afterwards people will know that I shower and change my clothes...I'm trying not to think about it and to just write.

I joined a Curvas (same as Curves in the U.S.) gym yesterday. Today was my second day. It's an awesome workout--the kind that leaves you feeling very sweaty and noodly for a while afterwards. When I came in yesterday, the girl at the desk (she looks about my age) showed me around the gym and where to change before I went and joined the workout. The changing room was a nice, big, open area, with heavily frosted glass shower doors on one side and towel hooks next to the doors. I noticed there were no changing stalls next to the showers.

When I finally got out to the machines, I joined a few other women, all in workout pants or capri's, and me in my blatantly above the knee shorts, and with an American football emblazened on them, to boot. No one seemed to notice or care, so I pretended to do the same and continued with the workout. By then end my hair was sopping wet, my face was about as red as my shorts, and I didn't smell pretty. The usual gym look. One of the girls working there talked to me a bit afterwards in the changing rooms as I filled my water bottle for the 3rd time in 5 minutes. "The showers are over there, and then after you're done we'll sign the contract if you want to sign up for the gym."

"Oh," I replied. "Actually, I live close by, only about a 20 minute walk, so I'll just shower at home."

Her eyes widened. "Are you sure? You're welcome to shower here, and you'll feel fresher and better for the walk home."

Suddenly I felt awkward. She hid it well, but I saw her eyes scan over me--the bandana covering the sweaty hair, the red face, the grungy shorts and t-shirt. Sneakers that didn't match. Seeing myself in her eyes, going out into the city, walking for 20 minutes sweaty and gross, I suddenly felt....well, immodest.

"Today I don't have my shower things," I replied after an awkward hesitation. "I'll bring it tomorrow."

And I did. This morning, along with my gym clothes and shoes, I shoved the biggest towel (covering as much surface area as possible), my shampoo, and my soap into the backpack.

After the workout, feeling all wobbly and noodly again, I headed for the shower. "Get over it," I said to myself, hopefully silently. "It's just a different sense of modesty. And it's an all women's gym, anyway."

Just before dashing into the shower quickly while no one else was in the room, I made a quick scan of the shoes in the room. Do Spanish women wear shower shoes? I saw none. The only pair of flip-flops I saw were the ones I wore into the place. I didn't want to seem like the snobby American who has to wear shower shoes because she thinks Spaniards are gross, so I gulped and once again told myself, "Get over it."

Quick shower?
check.

Quick towel snatch and slam the shower door back shut while I dry off in that tiny cubicle that was not made for drying?
check.

Towel covers more than most Spanish dresses?
check.

I stepped out onto the little drying mat area in front of the shower, right after the woman in the shower next to me. She turned, in her bright blue shower flip flops, and immediately stared at my feet, shocked.

I tried to recover quickly, looking over at the flip-flops that I had worn into the gym and said, "Oh, I got into the shower without my shoes!" And I chuckled at myself and shook my head, hoping to imply a good, strong, "Silly me."

The woman looked visibly relieved.

So now I know.

I wonder how immodest Spaniards think Americans are.

Back Home

I'm back home from staff conference. It was amazing. I missed Troy and Heather (in the U.S. on furlough) like crazy, but this was the first year that I felt like I knew at least as many people as I didn't know.

I have been challenged, convicted, commissioned, brought to tears, brought to uncontrollable laughter at extremely inappropriate times (i.e. the big emotional communion time we always have at the end of the conference), and inspired, not to mention having a grand old time hanging out with a bunch of people who are crazy about Jesus and who are going through lots of the same stuff. We seem to understand each other innately.

Amy and I both feel like we'll be processing stuff from conference for a while--some basic but really important questions. Right now the major thing I'm coming away with is the need to really really pray. To walk in my neighborhood like I did when I was first getting to know it, and to pray and pray and pray.

A ver que pasa....

Pondering and Praying

I'm posting because Victoria called my skype and told me to.

I'm still chewing on stuff from conference...probably will be for a while. Amy and I both feel like we'll need to sit down and talk about all this a bunch once we're home and our brains can slow down. Right now it's just leading me to pray alot.

Here's one thing: I really want us to be a church that operates out of a real, deep love for Madrid.

Here's some "fleshing out" of it. A prayer for Oasis Madrid:

Make us a church, Jesus.
Build your church.
Your dream.
Your mission.
A church that loves You
passionately, ridiculously, fearlessly

a church that loves Madrid
passionately, ridiculously, fearlessly
a church that loves Madrid's people

the raging, noisy, young wallking botellones
the ears above aching for quiet
the pushers, shovers, pickpockets
at the rastro
on the metro

the old ladies with fans
the moms pushing designer strollers
the moms carrying one, holding the hand of a string of 2 more

the tattoed, the pierced, the dyed
the stoned
the prostitutes and the men who pay
convinced they're worth only what they charge, no more
the rest of us who choose not to see

the homeless in tunnels, on benches, on curbs
on stoops, under cardboard, under the free metro newspaper

the too young girls with too short skirts
the boys and men who follow behind
enjoying the view

the students
the parents
the kids

the sleepy club-goers crawling home at 7 a.m.
the goth community
the gay community
the church community
catholic and protestant
the muslims
the gypsies

the ones who throw trash down
the ones who pick it up

the often dirty, always hilly, winding streets
the graffiti artists
panaderias and perfumerias
plazas upon plazas
sangria
tortilla
olives
all on a terraza at 2 a.m.

friends
families
cien pesetas

The Madrid I see, I love
You love more
passionately, ridiculously, fearlessly.

Make us a church
Make us love Madrid.

Musings from Staff Conference

First of all, I'm cold. I'm wearing long trousers and a jacket, and still a little chilly. It is heavenly. Exactly the break from Madrid that I needed.

I'm really resonating with some of the stuff that we're talking about at the conference--the speakers, Al and Debrah Hirsch, are super cool people and just ooze a love for Jesus and for the people around them. I would love to sit down with them for some hours and pick their brains.

Here are some thoughts that have been going through my mind and some thoughts from the conference. A lot of stuff about God's mission, caring for the people around us, and reaching out to marginalized people. No conclusions here, just some things I'm chewing on:

1) For the past few months this thought has been resurfacing in my mind over and over: "The church does not exist for itself."
I have yet to flesh out all that this means.

2) A quote from Al: "It's not so much that the church has a mission, but that the mission has a church."

3) A paraphrase from his session this morning: ----churches focused on ministry/program don't get around to mission, even if they intend to. Their resources are focused on themselves. --------on the other hand, churches that are organized around mission get to mission and ministry, because ministry is the means by which you do mission.

Anyway, I've got a lot to mull over and put into words that I can figure out.