The Gospel Project

Dear Lord, thank you for today. Thank you for giving me this opportunity to be part of a choir again. Thank you for humbling me yet again, for pointing out my flaws, for teaching me life’s lessons. 

Dear Lord, I won’t say I was well-behaved inside today. I won’t say I haven’t made the same mistake yet again. All over again. Yet Lord, Thank you for forgiving me; for pointing it out to me even more plainly – pointing my pride and impatience out to me. Father, chide me; guide me; show me how to love and learn to be a blessing; how to see the bright side of things. How to see this as a second shot at making things right this time.

It seemed like ACSi all over again. Amateur choir, amateur singers, but an enthusiastic talented leader. A “volunteer” choir, so to say; no auditions, no questions asked. No need for an official sorting of voices – take your pick, “SATB?” “Alto”. So then we start, totally Elaine Wan style, “stretch! loosen up!” “I want you to feel this part vibrating.” “pretend you’re throwing a ball – now throw your voice!” 

A new song for the new term. I catch myself starting to sight-read. I find myself becoming the note-perfectionist all over again. “That’s wrong; you should be going down there”; “she definitely has a really good voice, but she’s wrong and her voice is making me lose my thread too”; these thoughts start to flood my mind. They make me go crazy. I resist the urge to try to keep the notes properly read. I fight the icky dark desire that creeps up and makes me want the conductor to stop us and correct us for every notation error, every off-tune note, every off-beat assumption. “This is frustrating; I wish they could sight-sing too” I begin to think. “This is so ACS, so ACS all over again”.

And then a thought flashed by.

Why do you think you’re here again? Why do you think you have been put into this situation once again?

And it struck me.
I looked up. I see the leader being pleased by every harmonic ending we make. I see her jump with joy and excitement at every new bar. I hear the passion in her voice; I hear the sincerity in her praises of our singing. I could not understand how she could stand it before; but it now dawned upon me. Not how she could be so genuine when she encouraged us and reassured us that we sounded good (when we obviously did errrm not), but why I was here.

What is this Gospel Project about? It is about reaching out to the community. It is about creating a space where people can come and belong. It is about nurturing love and a spirit of generosity and hospitality towards others. It is about fellowship, about commitment, about building each other up – building our self-confidence, building our courage, building our sense of self-worth – and building our expression of our love.

No, this choir is not a choir for the elite. It is not a choir that is exclusive. It is not a choir that says you have to be perfect, you have to know how to sing or even just keep a tune. It is not even really about singing songs. It is about creating music – and music, is the by-product of hearts entwined together working fervently, joyously, dedicatedly towards the same goal.

I looked at the lyrics of the song. “Someone’s crying Lord. Someone’s praying, Lord.” I started to comprehend the fullness and depth of what I was singing. I looked up at the leader, red in the face with energy, belting out the tenor part, snapping her fingers to the beat. Ashamed, I bowed my head.

Oh Lord hear my prayer 
As I lift my voice and say 
I need your love today 
I need you right away 

Here I was, once again. This time, I sang, not caring whether I hit all the semitones, not caring whether anyone else had wrong notes. Threw these perfectionist prideful concerns away! Sang, with all my heart, meaning every word, and for once, I felt the efforts of everyone around me. I felt the fellowship, I felt the honest voices lift up and fill the church. I heard the sounds come together in harmony; I saw the satisfaction painted on everyone’s faces when the leader said, “Did you hear that? It’s all coming together!”

For once, I didn’t hear the mistakes; I didn’t hear the lacking alto notes when we jumped to soprano at the trickier bits; I didn’t hear the bases go flat “boom boom boom”; I didn’t hear myself going “not again!”.

For once, all I heard was, “I know we’ll make a way/ Yes we will make a way/ Oh Lord khumbaya“.

And, Music sure sounds good to me

Advertisement