When my sister and I were in college, we came home during Christmas break and worked together in a local deli that provided walk-up service for a seasonal favorite: honey-glazed Christmas hams. The owner was a family friend who needed extra help for the two weeks leading up to Christmas. He told us our work would begin with 10–12 hour days, and then three days before Christmas, we would need to bring sleeping bags, be prepared to sleep in the store overnight in two-hour shifts, and otherwise work around the clock. I chuckled and scoffed at this notion. Nobody needs that much ham! I couldn’t have been more wrong! There was so much business and demand it was difficult to keep up – and to stay awake and focused on two hours of sleep. It was a good temporary job and enjoyable, rewarding work.
I survived the honey-glazed-hamathon and went straight from work to church on Christmas Eve, where I was to play a trumpet solo. I played what, in my mind, was the absolute worst I had ever played in my life. Every musician has a level of expectation when they perform, and my playing was subpar. I was disappointed in myself, discouraged and disgusted at my playing, and physically and emotionally exhausted. I sat down in the corner of the balcony where I had played and wept. After the service, more people than ever came to tell me how moving my playing was. My inner conversation called these people liars. How could they enjoy something that was obviously so horrible? Outwardly I thanked them for their kind words. Once I slept and regained some semblance of balance and cogent thought, I realized God had managed to use my weakness that Christmas Eve and turned it into something beautiful that touched the hearts of others. While it wasn’t my best, it was my best at that moment. God blessed and multiplied my gifts that evening.
Several years ago, a church I was serving was in the process of beginning an instrumental ensemble. We made announcements from the pulpit for several weeks. We did a newsletter blitz encouraging anyone with instrumental chops to reach out. After a month of this, one of my chancel choir members mentioned offhand that his friend, we will call him Randy, used to play trumpet. I reached out to Randy and, sure enough, not only did he play trumpet, he was interested in playing with us at church. He ended up accompanying the choir on several anthems throughout the year, playing in our instrumental ensemble, and eventually joined the chancel choir (he had a great tenor voice!). While he had heard the announcements from the pulpit and read the pleas in the newsletter, what Randy needed was a personal invitation. For him, that invitation was the permission he needed to unlock his gifts and let them flourish. Once he took that simple step, his gifts blossomed and all were blessed.
Most church ensembles are a hodgepodge of misfits: an odd mixture of singers who struggle to match pitch sitting beside singers with vocal talent that will blow your mind. Super-serious church instrumentalists playing next to those with a mischievous sense of humor. Retired folks with all the time in the world next to fresh college graduates who are working three jobs. Wealthy folks with mountain and beach houses ringing next to those struggling to pay rent on their one-bedroom apartment. This is not to disparage church ensembles – quite the opposite; this is a testimony to the strength of church ensembles and to the work God does in and through them. Our strength is in our diversity. No matter what our giftedness, economic class, or strengths and weaknesses, the ground is level at the foot of the cross. As we are reminded in 1 Corinthians 12, “There are different kinds of spiritual gifts but the same Spirit; there are different forms of service but the same Lord; there are different workings but the same God who produces all of them in everyone.”
Each ensemble is a mixture of personalities, expressiveness, and gifts. This is exactly what makes our ensembles essential and God-infused. This is why we play trumpets when we are exhausted, why we ring bells when we are grieving, and why we sing when it defies all logic. Choir practices, handbell rehearsals, instrumental ensemble drills: all of these are a grand preview and preparation for our eternal worship that is to come in heaven.
“Each of the four living creatures had six wings and was covered with eyes all around, even under its wings. Day and night they never stop saying: ‘Holy, holy, holy is the Lord God Almighty who was, and is, and is to come.’”
—Revelation 4:8
