Good church music always gets to me.
I hate to admit it, but I often leave church and promptly forget what the sermon was about (I blame A.D.D., though I take notes and everything!) but almost always, some part of the music sticks with me long after church is over and gives me something to ponder all week long.
Sunday after Sunday, it never fails… three or four little words from one song will speak to me, the Holy Spirit touches me, and I’m a hot mess.
I get teary-eyed almost every Sunday, because of the music. I don’t boo-hoo or sob, mind you, but pesky stinging tears often spring to my eyes uncontrollably.
Oh, I try to hide it; it’s kind of embarrassing. So if you see me all watery-eyed in church next Sunday… just pretend like you don’t. Thanks.
I love the contemporary service at church. Love, love, love it. But still, it’s the traditional hymns that I remember singing as a child and hearing my grandmother play on the piano that get to me the most, and I love it when they take my favorite traditional hymns and give them a contemporary twist.
Its one of those things that makes church the best form of therapy ever. (And honestly… don’t we all need therapy?!) I never leave church the same way I came in, which is the best part of any good therapy… you come in all weary from the weight of the stuff you’re carrying, dump it there, and you leave lighter and freer, and it just feels good.
And Lord knows I need it, because I do have some stuff. And, though this probably comes as a shock, even I can be mean and nasty and once in a while… even do bad things.
Oh yeah! ME! Its true… and I don’t like that about myself.
But then in church, one little line from one good hymn jumps out at me, and God instantaneously shows me ME and shows me HIM…
… and the stuff that’s ME gets ever-so-slowly chipped away Sunday after Sunday, because that’s God’s ultimate goal, after all; to make us less like US and more like …HIM.
Which is great because as it turns out, I’m made up of stuff that isn’t always so lovely or admirable, and I want to be.
There just aren’t enough Sundays in my lifetime.