My Experiences in Choir

It started out almost six years ago as an "eh, why not?" thing. Those hobbies don't tend to last very long if you don't get serious about it at some point. But that's really all it was.

Now, it's become more than a hobby to me. It's a critical part of my personal worship experience to sing in my local church choir.

I remember it was immediately after high school graduation that I first heard the choir was taking on new members (I've since realized they're always in 'open season,' but obviously some times are more conducive than others). I'd recently taken a liking to youth praise and worship, but I was still very much a raw singer. I even supposedly knocked my parents' socks off with my amateurish rendition of "Famous One" during a Beach Camp rally at an evening worship service. And it wasn't my vocals, I don't think. It was the mere fact that I was not only up on the podium singing, but helping to lead.

Singing in church didn't come naturally to me as a kid. Didn't really care much for it. To make a long story short, I got a new perspective on worship during junior year at a Windy Gap retreat. Basically, I had to confront my long-standing notion that (a) I couldn't be any good at worshiping God through singing without any real talent, and (b) my distaste for singing in public was too big of a stumbling block. Well, God took care of the stumbling block, and surprise surprise, I started to grow fond of worship through music.

Which led me to the choir. What attracted me was the fairly laid-back nature of membership. Of course, we have all of the basic sections: tenor, bass, soprano (of which my lovely fiancee is a part of), alto, and baritone. But I didn't have to have a strong background in the music or performing arts to be a member. I didn't even have to know how to read music (to this day, I still don't. Not sure when, or if, I'll ever get motivated to learn)!

So I thought, "hey, this doesn't sound too hard. I'll give it a shot. I've got a long summer ahead of me before college. Might as well fill it with something."

Nearly six years later, that summer-filler has blossomed, under God's wing, into a Wednesday & Sunday staple for me and my future bride. It is no simple coincidence that she and I first met in that old (and now abandoned) choir room. Had I not heeded the call to join up that summer, who knows where we'd be today?

Like any activity, it's had peaks and valleys. I remember the last time I saw my grandfather hale and strong watching me sing in my first Christmas cantata. I remember stepping out on faith by narrating a piece of Henry Blackaby's Experiencing God cantata. I remember taking in a concert put on by the choir and orchestra at a time when I felt terribly low about my Mom's emergency appendectomy (too much to go into - browse my first few December 2004 entries). I remember student-teaching and college taking me away from choir for lengthy periods but being welcomed back with applause and smiles each time that I returned.

I've met some good friends and associates in that choir, several of whom I still sing with today.

As for my voice, the whole "not reading music" thing is a source of inspiration to me. I remember reading about Jim Cymbala, pastor of the Brooklyn Tabernacle, how his wife leads the choir and has brought home numerous Grammy awards for her original pieces and productions. And to my knowledge, she still has never learned to read music herself.

So she inspires me. I've since learned to pick up music basically the same way she does: my ears. Once I hear a piece a certain number of times, it usually clicks in my head, and I have no trouble singing it on Sunday. Oh, I have enough rudimentary knowledge to realize how notes go down or up with the song. But could I name them? Certainly not. Could I explain stuff like scale, rhythm, beat, mezzo fortissimo, or molto ritardo? Perish the thought.

I've noticed my tenor voice has grown a bit stronger in recent weeks. Maybe I'm subconciously trying to push myself to sing with greater intensity, to be more of a vocal leader. I have several flubs, naturally, but I'm doing better at singing through it and not letting it slow me down.

My other inspiration, of course, is Anna Kate. She is no doubt the vocal brains of this operation; she's been through voice training and could easily explain all those terms I tossed up there. It's a personal treat just to listen to her, whether it's accompanying her Mom on piano or harmonizing with a song on our local Christian radio station.

I guess what made me write this reflective entry was a minor incident yesterday morning. I got up to sing in the choir as usual. We filed in, sang the opening hymns, and sat down. Routine. But five minutes into the service, my stomach turns into a kiddie Moon Walk. I feel nauseous; I had not eaten anything, and the feeling led me to believe it had to be a virus of some kind. My initial thought was to bolt out of my seat and run for the bathroom. The old me would have gladly done it (the one who didn't care about singing, was still a raw newbie or was in the choir just for kicks).

Anyhoo, I didn't bolt. Silently I prayed, "God, please just help me last long enough to get through the anthem without throwing up." He answered my prayer with a "yes," and I managed to sing the anthem, and even the hymn that followed it, in a good, strong voice. Never would have done that years ago, and it's not exactly a pleasant thought. But I didn't want to leave. I was prepared to risk losing control and puking up my guts all over the soprano section (sorry, ladies) if I could still be used to communicate God's message through music.

That's how important choir has become for me.