Worship Servants

The motto of a worship team needs to be "He must increase and I must decrease." The team stands before the congregation and plays and sings the songs they've practiced all week—and instead of looking for applause the way every other musician does they hope the congregation sings praises to the Lord and forgets about the team.

C.S. Lewis wrote in The Weight of Glory

It is a serious thing to live in a society of possible gods and goddesses to remember that the dullest and most uninteresting person you may talk to may one day be a creature which, if you saw it now, you would be strongly tempted to worship, or else a horror and corruption such as you now meet if at all only in a nightmare.

All day long we are in some degree helping each other to one or the other of these destinations. It is in light of these overwhelming possibilities it is with awe and the circumspection proper to them, that we should conduct all our dealings with one another, all friendships, all loves, all play, all politics. There are no ordinary people. You have never met a mere mortal, Nations, cultures, arts, civilizations, these are mortal, and their life is to ours as the life of a gnat. But it is immortals whom we joke with, work with, marry, snub, and exploit -- immortal horrors or ever lasting splendours.

When we look out at the congregation we see saints: priests appointed by God to sing praises and authorized to bring petitions and thanks before His throne. He hears them when they call. There is not an "ordinary" human in the group, and they have assembled to worship God in a special way together; with songs and prayer and blessing and recitation and instruction and a holy meal.

Our job is to shape the service and sing and pray and play our instruments to make it easier for the congregation to pray and sing their worship together. Applause is not a reward but a defeat.

Our brothers and sisters don't always have musical training, so we guide them in songs so they can sing their best. Some are shy to speak out in service or have trouble pronouncing long words—no matter, they are priests and we their servants in worship. Perhaps some have never thought before to pronounce God's blessing on their neighbor—we can model it for them.

That worshiper whose voice drifts between keys is an exemplar of humble service to poor children, and whose holiness I do not come close to emulating. Dare I interpose announcements about potlucks in between his praise to God and the reading of God's word?

No matter whether the culture has the congregants dancing the aisles or kneeling at the mourner's bench—our task is just to make it easier. They do not need us: God hears them just as well when they pray without a leader, or sing a capella without a director.

As for me—I enjoy being the center of attention and praise. So my current job is nearly ideal—the more perfectly I anticipate needs and adjust the monitors, the more invisible I am.