Lenten Humility, Easter Hallelujahs

For the past few years, most of my writing time has been spent creating major concert works for choir and orchestra. I’ve loved deep-diving into this niche of my skill set, but my most recent project, SOLAS, has been especially meaningful. In essence, it’s the gospel set as a sacred classical work. And after months of immersing myself into these themes—grace, faith, Christ, salvation—I’ve found myself overwhelmed by the sheer beauty of our redemption. The gospel is stunning. When you truly encounter it, humility naturally follows.

As I’m putting the finishing touches on SOLAS during this Lenten season, I can already tell it’s going to change the way I experience Easter. And isn’t that, in a way, what Lent is meant to do? To center our hearts, to quiet us in remembrance so that we can fully step into the victory of Easter morning?

Easter is the grand crescendo of the church calendar. For choir directors and music ministers, it’s the moment—the Super Bowl of sacred music. We spend weeks preparing, rehearsing, fine-tuning harmonies, and hoping that our tenors don’t mysteriously vanish on Easter morning. (Why does that happen? No one knows. But it does.)

In all that preparation, it’s easy to get caught up in the logistics: the musical choices, the flow of service, the satisfaction of pulling off something beautiful. And while these things matter, sometimes they end up becoming the sole focus of the season. If we love our songs more than our Savior, we’ve missed the point. Easter is about the breathtaking gift of Christ’s sacrifice and resurrection. And if we really want to embrace that gift, our hearts need to be humbled.

Shifting Our Hearts Toward Humility

So how do we do that? How do we prepare our own hearts—and lead our choirs and congregations—to approach Easter with the kind of humility that allows us to experience the overwhelming beauty of the Resurrection?

Remember the cost of Easter
The joy of Easter morning can only be fully realized when we grasp the weight of Good Friday. Jesus didn’t just have a rough day—He took on the wrath of God, bore our sins, and endured suffering beyond what we can comprehend. When we truly sit with the magnitude of this sacrifice, humility isn’t something we have to manufacture. It’s the only natural response.

Encourage your choir to reflect on this. Maybe take a moment during rehearsal to read Isaiah 53 or Psalm 22 together. Let those words settle in. The more we understand what Christ endured, the deeper our gratitude—and our humility—becomes.

Embrace a daily posture of humility
True humility isn’t just about setting aside pride in our musical abilities. It’s about recognizing our total dependence on God—not just in rehearsals and services but in our daily lives. A humble heart changes how we respond to God’s voice, how we interact with others, and even how we approach conflict.

A humble choir member values unity over personal preference. A humble leader serves with love instead of control. What would our choirs (and churches) look like if we carried this kind of humility beyond the music?

Recognize that repentance leads to humility
Humility isn’t something we can just will into existence—it starts with repentance. That means honestly recognizing when we’ve placed ourselves or our desires above God. It’s a personal practice, but it’s also something we can gently encourage in our choirs and congregations.

As you rehearse songs about Christ’s sacrifice, create space for your choir members to examine their own hearts. Repentance isn’t about shame—it’s about realignment to God’s heart. And when we do that, our worship becomes deeper, richer, and more authentic.

How a Humble Heart Transforms Worship

Humility shifts everything. It moves us from performance to presence, from applause to adoration. When we step into Easter with humble hearts, our worship is transformed because:

God is pleased
We sing on Easter morning out of gratitude! It only makes sense then that we want to please God with our song. A humble heart approaches music as a sincere offering of love—not just as an activity we enjoy.

The Holy Spirit moves freely
The power in our music service doesn’t come from perfectly performed anthems but from God’s Spirit moving. When our hearts are humbled, we create space for God to move, to touch hearts, and to work beyond what we could ever achieve through technical skill alone.

We experience deeper joy
There is profound joy in surrender. When we let go of the need to be noticed or affirmed, we find freedom in simply worshiping the One who is worthy.

Easter morning is coming. The trumpets will sound, the sanctuary will fill, and voices will rise with triumphant hallelujahs. But in the weeks leading up to that moment, we can be intentional in our preparation—both in rehearsing music and preparing our hearts. Let’s reflect. Let’s repent. Let’s allow God to shape us so that when Easter morning comes, we are ready—not just to sing, but to fully receive and celebrate the victory of the Resurrection.

And if the tenors still disappear on Easter morning? God’s grace is sufficient—even for that.