Today’s gem was good. In sharing it, I might step on a few toes. Most of you who know me will not find it surprising that I am not opposed to doing this for a good cause. The service had a rhythm to it. There was a song and then a time of prayer. Then another song followed by another time of prayer. Each prayer time had a different purpose. The first was to ask for forgiveness of sins. The next was praying against distractions. Another was to yield all of our life to Him – withholding nothing. There seemed to be a natural flow. There was a time to dance. There was a testimony time when few folks stepped up and shared what God was doing in their lives.
It was a three hour service, and that was before the special dinner, so I will not share the entire thing. But here is the part that God spoke to me through. The pastor called for a special time of music. “Who has something that they would like to share with the church? Who has been singing a song to glorify God as they cook, as they shower, as they walk through their house, as they go to school? This song has been making you strong. It has been pointing you back to God. It is the song that God has been preparing in your heart. Come up and bless the congregation with what He is doing in you.” What a different view of why we should sing. Two different women stepped up and sang. One had a stunning voice and it was beautiful. One had a shining spirit and though her voice was not as perfect – she was still beautiful. People were blessed by both.
And then a little voice behind me started:
“Mungu Yu Mwema, Mungu Yu Mwema, Mungo Yu Mwema, Yu Mwema, Kwangu.”(God is so Good)
Her brothers and sisters joined her and then they stood while they sang and made their way to the front. They sang and danced their way through this song and another. Their older brother joined them on the congas. As they were singing, I found myself with tears rolling down my face. You could tell that they had not only worked on this – they believed it – and it showed. This little girl was my friend Miracle. Her brothers Nyonzima and Maombi had invited me to their church. You see, I know their story and God has been very good to them.
In American culture we have moved away from embracing the simple heart-felt song of faith sung by an untrained child. We have chosen not to have “special music” in our churches because we do not want to draw attention to any one person. Or worse yet, we look for the polish and perfection of the stars of our congregations and make idols of their gifts. God help us.
What are we teaching our children? When I was young, I was often asked to sing – solos, duets, in the choir, in the church musicals. I will be the first to say that I am a simple singer who likes to harmonize more than I like to read music. I have not really been formally trained, though I did attend college on a music scholarship. I know that there are those who have far more talent than myself. But I was given the opportunity as a child to express my love for God in my own church with my own voice. I also remember how I felt when I moved to Nashville as a young songwriter. I learned very quickly that if you didn’t have “it”, then you shouldn’t sing. I was not there to become a star. But I learned very quickly to keep my voice in check and not share it. It is a lesson that I still unlearning after 25 years.
While I know that a polished voice can move my soul, I also know that I am most affected by the passion of the person who is sharing their gift. The gift is not the voice. The gift is the thing that gave you a reason to sing. The gift is the message that “I have lived through this and I need you to know that God has given me all that I need to survive.”
In the midst of the trials that I have faced, and I have faced many, one of the things I least want to hear is the well-meaning soul who says “well, at least you will be able to write a good song out of this situation.” And yet, I believe that the strongest writers have lived a little deeper, struggled a little longer, or known the valley of the shadow of death just a little more intimately. The words flow from a raging river that most have only had to wade in. And those who have lived in that river, fought in that river, and wrestled to keep their very lives in that river have been given a gift that must be shared when they climb out, or are carried out of that river. For me it is the testimony that God has saved me. It is my witness that God will do the same for someone else. It is the gift He has given me to share.
Much like Miracle’s song. She sang a song of God’s goodness because she knows His saving hand. At her young age, she has seen more life and death than I have. Her very name is her story that she survived when the doctors said she would not. She knows that an almighty God watched over her family as they fled from the war-torn areas of the Congo through Uganda and safely to freedom here in the United States. She knows that He will carry her across any river (or ocean) that comes along life’s path. She has a gift. And today, I needed to hear it. It was a reminder to me that we are all called to bring our gifts to the altar.
Let us think twice about silencing the young, or the weak, or those we deem less talented. Someone may need the gift that they have to share. And the gift may have nothing to do with their talent.