Musicology/Spiritology

Since I haven't blogged in a while, I think it's worth mentioning that for the past eleven months, I have played on the Vineyard worship team just about every week, with a week off here or there (no joke--I think I've had a max of seven weekends off). The past three months, I have been serving as the worship intern, which as had me working in that realm throughout the week too. Sunday, I had my first non-acoustic show in a long time, and it went swimmingly.

It is things like this that really get me thinking sometimes about just how important music is in my life, and how many different things I thought that meant--like that I should move to Chicago to become a full time musician, for instance. Two years ago, I was absolutely sure that what God wanted for me to do with my talent was to invest in it full time as a profession. A year ago, I was completely sure that I had made a complete mistake. So I moved back, gratefully. A month later, I found myself playing for a worship band--somewhere I never thought I'd go back to--and, surprisingly, enjoying it. As much as I'd criticized worship songs for being shallowly written (both musically and lyrically), I had come to appreciate what I saw as shallowness as simplicity, and I came to appreciate the space offered by that simplicity as freedom. I learned how to praise God again, and I learned to do it from the stage. To tell the truth, playing an instrument is much more natural for me than sitting in a large group and singing along. A lot of times, notes and rhythm say more from me than words do. If you ever catch me praying in solitude, you'll hear me humming rather than whispering. It's a language I sometimes feel like I speak better than English--which has brought up problems of its own when I try to write songs.

There's so much music can say. And lately, my lyrics have been talking about robots and time machines while the music itself just talks about truth, and beauty, and trembling, and aching, and love, and thankfulness.

I hope everyone hears that louder than the words.