Preconceptions In Serving God III

 The third story in what has apparently become a trilogy is a little more vague in terms of dating in my mind - not so much that I do not remember the event clearly, but that I do not remember the moment where the realization hit.

The year (likely) was 2011 or maybe even  2012.  We had, again, changed up our lives:  we had since relocated to New Home.  Na Clann were all now in school, attending a K-8 Christian school with an attached church.  Membership got one a decreased tuition, so of course we had joined.  It was a flavor (a more conservative flavor, perhaps unsurprisingly) of our previous denomination (the one that had suggested teaching was a better option).   It was much more established with a formal clergy and elective board. 

But they did have a music ministry.

I felt relatively comfortable in music - I had been involved with music since the sixth grade instrumentally and vocally, had performed as an adult in a music duo and a group, and had spent 4 years performing on the Worship Team at our previous church.  There was  not really a formal process at the new church - one just simply got "asked" - but somehow I managed to get myself "asked".

And so, I joined the 11 AM Worship team.

In my previous Worship Team incarnation, I had performed literally every Sunday.  Here it was much more of an "on-again, off-again" schedule.  But I was more than happy to do it.  I was feeling as if I was serving.

Relevant to what happens next, it is important to know that I love to sing.  I tend to sing loudly - perhaps too loudly, in the view of some.  And while I love to sing, I almost completely lack the ability to harmonize - at all.  I can carry a tune well and even to some extent by ear, but that is only the melody.  Finally, I have an arguably limited range - upper bass to low baritone, perhaps 1.5 octaves.  Within my range, I am great.  Outside of my range, things become iffy.

The service was a Christmas service.  The song was Veni, Veni Emmanuel (O Come, O Come Emmanuel). I was excited when I saw the listing.  I knew this song.  I loved this song.  I loved the fact it had Latin verses (which I could pronounce and sing).  I loved that it was - squarely - within my range.

But during rehearsal that week, a couple of things became evident.  The first was that the arrangement was not the standard key; it was higher.  The second was that the decision had been made that I was going to solo.

I tried to suggest - mildly - that singing with someone else would have been better.  We practiced with two people singing the part - and even then, my voice was starting to crack like a 13 year old.

But Sunday came.  And on that Sunday, I soloed. 

Was it terrible?  No, it was not a train wreck.  Was it great?  Also no - I could hear myself straining and reaching and not quite hitting the upper notes (incredibly frustrating for a song that, if it was in the original key, I knew I could sing).

We finished.  The Ravishing Mrs. TB made some kind comments.  We packed up and went home to celebrate the season of Christmas.

And that was the last time I was ever asked to sing.

It did not hit me at first - after all, things were on a rotation.  But after 3-4 months of waiting, including having very small groups of singers when I was obviously there, even I got the hint.

My service after that - up to the time that we ended up leaving to switch to the church my wife worked at - was limited to communion service as requested.  I never asked about why nor was I ever told.  Even after the person in charge of that function left his position, I did not bring it up.

I completely understand not having someone with a skill do that skill.  The only thing that ever bothered me about the situation was it was fairly clear during rehearsal that I could not hit that note, yet I was put in a position where I was supposed to do it.   If this was something important - a time of war or a "Sing Or Die" moment, perhaps?  But for a typical Sunday service?  That seemed, well, a bit like a proverbial "Hail Mary", or a reason to ask someone to step aside without doing so.

The lesson - combined with the other two - stuck well enough:  when we became members and started attending our current church, I carefully looked at options and selected the ones that involved minimum public exposure:  making coffee and setting up after hours.  Both were within my wheelhouse of skills.  And both involved no risk of personal investment being wasted or simply being shuffled to the side without comment.  

Service in silence, it seemed, was the true calling.