Even more specifically, I worry (which I confess I should not do) about why people aren't singing along in church.
Ironically, last week I found myself in a room of a thousand people, with a band playing and singing skillfully ("10,000 Reasons" to be exact), and I. Did. Not. Sing.
But I was with God. And He patted me on the head and told me to get over myself.
Then, there's this, from a former librarian blogger I've been following lately:
"I have an embarrassing confession to make: I cannot sing. I am tone-deaf. Worse, everyone I stand near in church sings really, really well. Like, they are or were in one or many choirs. Like, every member of their family has musical talent. Like, people tap them on the shoulders and tell them what beautiful voices they have. And I stand next to them. What I used to do is not sing. I liked the music just okay anyway, and I felt bad that I wasn’t getting audience participation points for singing in church, but what could I do? Not only was my voice awful, but I would be compared to my friends with great voices. So, I didn’t sing."Shalini muses a bit more about just what it means for her to be in church. And she changes her mind, because then there's this:
"I’ve been singing every single week since then. Yes, it’s awful. Yes, it’s embarrassing. But I’m All In, and it feels good to know that everyone around me knows I’d sacrifice my cool, my integrity, because otherwise, what else would I hold back? I’d be stopping myself fro.m getting something great, and maybe my pride would be stopping someone else, too. Maybe if I own up to my embarrassments, someone else will, too. Maybe not, but just the chance that there’s someone else who wants to sing but isn’t hears my screeching, ear-piercing songs, and sings, too, saying, “Well, at least I’m not as bad as her.”Read the whole post for the whole story (warning: there's a cuss word). And seriously - don't worry that it's not good enough for anyone else to hear.