Just Side Effects
I usually don't like helping with music for church. In the past, I've pushed away offers to join worship groups, worship leading roles when offered on youth Sundays, and even hymn leading because there was always someone else who was able and willing. Anything up in the front was stressful. I wanted to do it right; I couldn't live with messing up in front of so many people. If someone else could do it, I was happy to let them. There was also the compounding Jared Stutzman attitude that worship should never be a performance, and being at the podium always felt like I was showing off. My eager pride could so easily begin to take precedent over any good intentions. I would much rather sit among the congregation and sing as part of the group forced into a place of knowing that though I am a choir nerd, my voice is no more important than anyone else's to God, and that though I could write down my own, unvoiced reflections, I have no more wisdom than anyone else, and I don't need the temptation to try and impress people with maturity and eloquence. These reassurances kept me focused away from what I could give, but on what I could receive.
Here, the unit is so focused on serving our seven supporting congregations. In addition to our service to the community through our placements, we also want to serve the churches who have given so much for us to be here. We offer insights during discussions bringing fresh viewpoints, join in church events, help out where we can, and help in services. I'd say we help lead music for church services close to half of the Sundays (I actually haven't counted, this is just my perception). We spend a few hours that week picking and practicing songs - Eva plays piano, Abby sings, Krista drums, Leah sings or throws in some banjo (the boys mostly watch, but Evan can be persuaded to play clarinet). I initially avoided any of these commitments. Krista was happy to direct, everyone else was happy to sing and I was happy to remain in my seat quietly containing any possible pride.
Sometimes, however, a song would require another strong voice, so I would stand up for one song before unceremoniously returning to my bench. I was actually needed, I would not refuse that. Then another Sunday, Leah and Krista were out of town and Abby had an ear infection. For some reason I agreed to help Eva. We prepared both contemporary music and hymns until that morning the technology refused to cooperate. We led our hymns then spent the next section of the service scratching together more hymns to lead without practicing. Standing alone, my voice confidently carrying the melody, my arms moving with the energy of the line, I felt so strong. People came up to me afterwards and were so affirmative of my skills. Encouraged, I led hymns at our next church again feeling the power in my arms and voice.
I was satisfied with how it was all going. Now as I flipped through the hymnal, I could see which ones I wanted to lead for the congregations. The hymnal though it always had been, became even more so a fun book to have around. I could just pick it up and entertain myself by practicing directing meters or exercise my sight reading skills on new hymns and harmony lines. I've been in the habit of doing this in the past as well, but now with renewed interest.
This recent, sporadic hymn taste-testing has refreshed my memory of beautiful texts and filled my mind all the more with ancient melodies. Song is always on my tongue, ready to burst out. Though I've been so blessed by it, it's also grown to become a distraction. During church services, a hymnal tempts me from its bench pocket. When the service lags, wouldn't it just be so easy to pick up and flip through..? Added to that, on days I'm in the service, I take the time to run through what I need to say and do, sometimes very last minute. I tell myself it's more important than listening to congregational sharing right now. Priorities shift.
And then there's this pride, the pride of doing my part well, of knowing that my voice is so strong and clear, that people like listening to me, that I am one of the best, that I'm blessing everyone else (yay me). I start to look more at myself than to others and begin to think that Sunday services are more about what I've prepared than engaging with the congregation. It's too too easy to be too engrossed in music preparations to talk to people.
Hymns are good. Talent is good. There are so many good things that can distract us from what we should focus on. The minutiae of life pull our attention - relationships, food, petty wants, our God-given imagination that drifts away during boredom, even the church services. We can get so caught up on the particulars of liturgies, music styles, order of worship, the dumb decorations, or what we wear when in actuality there are no direct commandments for any weekly worship services like we have (not that I'm aware of anyways...). It's sometimes hard to see why we do all this when we're caught up in the middle of all the tangled details.
Leah once illustrated to me a good view of Christianity. There's Jesus in the center and everything else - community, evangelism, speaking in tongues, healing, worship, love, righteousness, peace, ethics - are all side effects. Though every denomination likes to pick out their own focus (you see the community, peace and justice in Mennonite focus), we are all striving after God. By believing in God's truth, all these things just happen. By loving, these things just show up. When I say it like that, it seems so effortless, though in reality, the process of discerning the Holy Spirit, God's will, the direction for community outreach, the truth in concerns to culture, the balance of mercy and justice (and all the many paradoxes that surround the faith) is so time consuming and divisive. These blinding side effects all coiled together make up what we might recognize as a vague structure for "religion," the construct the surrounds and makes sense of faith. It encompasses all the human structure and ritual wrapped around the core of Christ.
My type of personality is very well suited for religion in all its structure. I'll gladly accept the easy outline-able guidelines given proper justification; I'll gladly hold up traditions and think them beautiful; I'll argue for the time tested worship styles and ideals; I'll accept what the church demands, its framework was designed by people like me after all.
All the distraction that comes from the color-within-the-boxes sentiments found in religion get under some people's skin though. They are frustrated with all the talk back and forth and just want to have Jesus and none of the side effects. It was the inspiration for this spoken word poem attacking religious legalism.
I admit, he has his points, he preaches rightly that we should focus on Jesus over what conventional Christianity teaches (shoutout to the Reformation), Christians should live what they preach in radical ways, and often the Kingdom is often even more Upside Down than we think it is, but a large part of me pushes back from him and wants to defend my church, rituals, my holy commandments from God. Of course Jesus didn't come to "abolish religion" he says he "came to fulfill the law and the prophets." The church is the poorly organized conglomeration of people trying, trying, trying to get to the core of Jesus and often messing it up. Yes, religion is a human construct, but it's the fact that humans are searching for Jesus that justifies its flaws, and yes, it does have flaws. Christians are sinners, you can't expect us to uphold the standard of love that Jesus gave us. I feel justified in my repulsion, my religion is sacred. Then again, I've now been conflicted (per usual).
When we were in England on Tour this summer, one (extremely charismatic) pastor spoke to us about how he came to Christianity not because it made sense, or because of other Christians or any other common reason, but because he "fell in love with Jesus." It wasn't the first time I'd heard that before, but when I thought about myself, I couldn't say I was actually "in love." I don't know Christ well enough, or in that way to love him. We can't know him like we know the flesh and blood people around us; then again he was flesh and blood for that specific reason, though I maintain that he is not flesh and blood living in this day. We can read about him and his adventures with the twelve, and understand his truth, but I don't feel like I know him like I know the character of Bailey, Amy, or any of my other friends. Does he have a sarcastic streak? Did he like blueberries? What did his laugh sound like? Then again, the Bible never said he ever laughed. It's hard to love someone if they never laugh. And here there are people saying that they are in love! I've never even been "in love" with a person straight in front of my own face! How could I be in love with Jesus, this old Arab guy who lived half way across the world in a culture I can only understand through patchy bits of sermons, who speaks in weird puzzles and never laughs?
But Jesus is the core! How could I love his side effects and not him?! I worry that I love the worship more than whom we're worshipping that I'd rather see the beauty of what we offer back than the original inspiration. I'm afraid, so afraid I don't love Jesus.
Since I love Jesus' people, Jesus' truth, and all of Jesus' side effects, I reason that I must love Jesus. I just can't see it all yet. All I can see now are the shadows of him, and if I love that, then I'll have to love him. Even if he has a weird sense of humor.
I've stopped asking to lead hymns in the service these past weeks. I know that loving hymns isn't bad, but I know that loving Christ is better even if it's not as fun to pay attention in the service rather than singing. I am recognizing the line between Christ and his side effects, acknowledging religion in all its virtues (and inherent flaws), but also its core. I have to keep a check on my distractions, all of them. I must listen to people fully rather than checking my phone really quick, read my Bible rather than be distracted by smaller things during break times, focus on love in my work placements rather than the work being done, my being rather than my works. Then, slowly, I will understand more and more about who this Jesus guy is like and know that, "nothing is as wonderful as knowing Christ Jesus my Lord. I have given up everything else and count it all as garbage. All I want is Christ and to know that I belong to him. I could not make myself acceptable to God by obeying the Law, but God accepted me simply because of my faith in Christ. All I want is to know Christ and the power that raised him to life. I want to suffer and die as he did, so that somehow I also may be raised to life. I have not yet reached my goal, and I am not perfect. But Christ has taken hold of me. So I keep on running and struggling to take hold of the prize. My friends, I don’t feel that I have already arrived. But I forget what is behind, and I struggle for what is ahead. I run toward the goal, so that I can win the prize of being called to heaven. This is the prize that God offers because of what Christ Jesus has done."
-Love, Baby Stevus
(This is for you, Leah and Krista)
 |
| Look at us cuties. Evan's in the back, Eva and me in the middle and a happy Abby below. Jonathan isn't cute. |
Here, the unit is so focused on serving our seven supporting congregations. In addition to our service to the community through our placements, we also want to serve the churches who have given so much for us to be here. We offer insights during discussions bringing fresh viewpoints, join in church events, help out where we can, and help in services. I'd say we help lead music for church services close to half of the Sundays (I actually haven't counted, this is just my perception). We spend a few hours that week picking and practicing songs - Eva plays piano, Abby sings, Krista drums, Leah sings or throws in some banjo (the boys mostly watch, but Evan can be persuaded to play clarinet). I initially avoided any of these commitments. Krista was happy to direct, everyone else was happy to sing and I was happy to remain in my seat quietly containing any possible pride.
Sometimes, however, a song would require another strong voice, so I would stand up for one song before unceremoniously returning to my bench. I was actually needed, I would not refuse that. Then another Sunday, Leah and Krista were out of town and Abby had an ear infection. For some reason I agreed to help Eva. We prepared both contemporary music and hymns until that morning the technology refused to cooperate. We led our hymns then spent the next section of the service scratching together more hymns to lead without practicing. Standing alone, my voice confidently carrying the melody, my arms moving with the energy of the line, I felt so strong. People came up to me afterwards and were so affirmative of my skills. Encouraged, I led hymns at our next church again feeling the power in my arms and voice.
 |
| Somebody took a picture of me singing. Shame on them. |
I was satisfied with how it was all going. Now as I flipped through the hymnal, I could see which ones I wanted to lead for the congregations. The hymnal though it always had been, became even more so a fun book to have around. I could just pick it up and entertain myself by practicing directing meters or exercise my sight reading skills on new hymns and harmony lines. I've been in the habit of doing this in the past as well, but now with renewed interest.
This recent, sporadic hymn taste-testing has refreshed my memory of beautiful texts and filled my mind all the more with ancient melodies. Song is always on my tongue, ready to burst out. Though I've been so blessed by it, it's also grown to become a distraction. During church services, a hymnal tempts me from its bench pocket. When the service lags, wouldn't it just be so easy to pick up and flip through..? Added to that, on days I'm in the service, I take the time to run through what I need to say and do, sometimes very last minute. I tell myself it's more important than listening to congregational sharing right now. Priorities shift.
And then there's this pride, the pride of doing my part well, of knowing that my voice is so strong and clear, that people like listening to me, that I am one of the best, that I'm blessing everyone else (yay me). I start to look more at myself than to others and begin to think that Sunday services are more about what I've prepared than engaging with the congregation. It's too too easy to be too engrossed in music preparations to talk to people.Hymns are good. Talent is good. There are so many good things that can distract us from what we should focus on. The minutiae of life pull our attention - relationships, food, petty wants, our God-given imagination that drifts away during boredom, even the church services. We can get so caught up on the particulars of liturgies, music styles, order of worship, the dumb decorations, or what we wear when in actuality there are no direct commandments for any weekly worship services like we have (not that I'm aware of anyways...). It's sometimes hard to see why we do all this when we're caught up in the middle of all the tangled details.
Leah once illustrated to me a good view of Christianity. There's Jesus in the center and everything else - community, evangelism, speaking in tongues, healing, worship, love, righteousness, peace, ethics - are all side effects. Though every denomination likes to pick out their own focus (you see the community, peace and justice in Mennonite focus), we are all striving after God. By believing in God's truth, all these things just happen. By loving, these things just show up. When I say it like that, it seems so effortless, though in reality, the process of discerning the Holy Spirit, God's will, the direction for community outreach, the truth in concerns to culture, the balance of mercy and justice (and all the many paradoxes that surround the faith) is so time consuming and divisive. These blinding side effects all coiled together make up what we might recognize as a vague structure for "religion," the construct the surrounds and makes sense of faith. It encompasses all the human structure and ritual wrapped around the core of Christ.
My type of personality is very well suited for religion in all its structure. I'll gladly accept the easy outline-able guidelines given proper justification; I'll gladly hold up traditions and think them beautiful; I'll argue for the time tested worship styles and ideals; I'll accept what the church demands, its framework was designed by people like me after all.
All the distraction that comes from the color-within-the-boxes sentiments found in religion get under some people's skin though. They are frustrated with all the talk back and forth and just want to have Jesus and none of the side effects. It was the inspiration for this spoken word poem attacking religious legalism.
I admit, he has his points, he preaches rightly that we should focus on Jesus over what conventional Christianity teaches (shoutout to the Reformation), Christians should live what they preach in radical ways, and often the Kingdom is often even more Upside Down than we think it is, but a large part of me pushes back from him and wants to defend my church, rituals, my holy commandments from God. Of course Jesus didn't come to "abolish religion" he says he "came to fulfill the law and the prophets." The church is the poorly organized conglomeration of people trying, trying, trying to get to the core of Jesus and often messing it up. Yes, religion is a human construct, but it's the fact that humans are searching for Jesus that justifies its flaws, and yes, it does have flaws. Christians are sinners, you can't expect us to uphold the standard of love that Jesus gave us. I feel justified in my repulsion, my religion is sacred. Then again, I've now been conflicted (per usual).
When we were in England on Tour this summer, one (extremely charismatic) pastor spoke to us about how he came to Christianity not because it made sense, or because of other Christians or any other common reason, but because he "fell in love with Jesus." It wasn't the first time I'd heard that before, but when I thought about myself, I couldn't say I was actually "in love." I don't know Christ well enough, or in that way to love him. We can't know him like we know the flesh and blood people around us; then again he was flesh and blood for that specific reason, though I maintain that he is not flesh and blood living in this day. We can read about him and his adventures with the twelve, and understand his truth, but I don't feel like I know him like I know the character of Bailey, Amy, or any of my other friends. Does he have a sarcastic streak? Did he like blueberries? What did his laugh sound like? Then again, the Bible never said he ever laughed. It's hard to love someone if they never laugh. And here there are people saying that they are in love! I've never even been "in love" with a person straight in front of my own face! How could I be in love with Jesus, this old Arab guy who lived half way across the world in a culture I can only understand through patchy bits of sermons, who speaks in weird puzzles and never laughs?
But Jesus is the core! How could I love his side effects and not him?! I worry that I love the worship more than whom we're worshipping that I'd rather see the beauty of what we offer back than the original inspiration. I'm afraid, so afraid I don't love Jesus.
 |
| The crew and Susan Nisly visited the Great Jtown Flood Memorial on an extremely chilly day at the end of November. From left: Eva, ME, Krista, Leah, McNise, Evan, Jonathan, Abby |
Since I love Jesus' people, Jesus' truth, and all of Jesus' side effects, I reason that I must love Jesus. I just can't see it all yet. All I can see now are the shadows of him, and if I love that, then I'll have to love him. Even if he has a weird sense of humor.
I've stopped asking to lead hymns in the service these past weeks. I know that loving hymns isn't bad, but I know that loving Christ is better even if it's not as fun to pay attention in the service rather than singing. I am recognizing the line between Christ and his side effects, acknowledging religion in all its virtues (and inherent flaws), but also its core. I have to keep a check on my distractions, all of them. I must listen to people fully rather than checking my phone really quick, read my Bible rather than be distracted by smaller things during break times, focus on love in my work placements rather than the work being done, my being rather than my works. Then, slowly, I will understand more and more about who this Jesus guy is like and know that, "nothing is as wonderful as knowing Christ Jesus my Lord. I have given up everything else and count it all as garbage. All I want is Christ and to know that I belong to him. I could not make myself acceptable to God by obeying the Law, but God accepted me simply because of my faith in Christ. All I want is to know Christ and the power that raised him to life. I want to suffer and die as he did, so that somehow I also may be raised to life. I have not yet reached my goal, and I am not perfect. But Christ has taken hold of me. So I keep on running and struggling to take hold of the prize. My friends, I don’t feel that I have already arrived. But I forget what is behind, and I struggle for what is ahead. I run toward the goal, so that I can win the prize of being called to heaven. This is the prize that God offers because of what Christ Jesus has done."
Phillipians 3 : 8 - 14 (CEV)
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| The unit at church. From left: Jonathan, Evan, ME, Leah, (lower row) Krista, Abby, Eva |
(This is for you, Leah and Krista)
Erin,
ReplyDeleteI read the words you write and I can hear you speaking them in my mind. I hear your voice, and I hear your little humorous interjections, but also your worries, your concerns, your longings and desires to know Jesus more. When you say you're afraid you don't love Jesus enough...I said that. I SAY that. And I think it is that worry, that fear that we are not living up to the impossibly high standard that God set for us in his perfect love that shows just how much we love Him. We care enough, we love enough, to want to be better. We know we can do better and should do better. I'm still afraid that I'm not loving Jesus enough, and I fear my lifestyle is slowly pulling me away from Him...and then I read your blogs and I feel pulled back in again, somehow, even if just a little. I can't wait to see you again with my own two eyes, and hug you with my own two arms, because girly I know we will have so much to talk about!
Desiring to Love,
Casey Breneman
Erin, your deep reflection on life encourages me to do reflecting of my own. Thank you for sharing.
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