Let Freedom Ring

Posted on August 6, 2007
Filed Under Ministry, Singing, Fulfillment, Work, Transparency, Freedom, Courage |

With butterflies in my stomach, this weekend marked the first time I “officially” led worship at my new job. (That feels weird to say because when I’m choosing the songs to sing, gathering vocalists to sing with, and leading worship it doesn’t feel like “work” . . . course, it’s early yet . . .) I had a great time and I hope the people were blessed and God was pleased.

There was a progression of sorts in the way in which I led from one service to the next. During the first service Saturday night, I noticed myself “hiding” (if one can hide on a platform and before people); my pastor did too and asked me if I was hanging back because of how the monitors were placed or if there was something else going on. Coming clean, I responded by saying it was, well, fear. He then, gently, encouraged me to step out toward the front of the stage and to “have freedom.” Freedom . . . hmmmm.

In the past ten years of me leading worship in one form or the other, I have been encouraged, held as an example, and, yes, even criticized for my expression of “freedom” during worship. It seems some people appreciate my uplifted arms and general movement while I’m singing songs that honor and uplift the name of God. Others, and if I’m being honest - mostly men, have found me, um, “distracting” and have gone so far as to attempt to advise me concerning how I move and how I dress. Unfortunately, I have listened more often to the voices of criticism, judgment, religion and disapproval over those who speak encouragement and affirmation - and even stopped singing all together at one time because of how awful I felt at the thought of me being a “distraction” during worship because of my movement, my dress, my appearance, my gender, my words . . . my worship. Heaven forbid.

So it was with those voices echoing in the recesses of my mind that I took the platform Saturday evening - hanging back, trying to be as tiny and invisible as I could be, while simultaneously attempting to, well, lead? You’re right. It is impossible.

Here’s the truth: I’m emotional. I’m, by nature and even before Jesus, joyful. I’m expressive. I’m extroverted. I’m enthusiastic. I’m optimistic. I’m excited. I’m friendly. I’m not shy. And I’m the same person I was when I was two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight . . . I am who I am. I am who God made me to be. And, I love me and can’t be anyone but me. I’m the one jumping around dancing to the music. I’m the one with hands up raised. I’m the one who King David would have probably hung out with during worship because I bet we would have gotten one another. And the minute I try to be someone different than who I am is the minute I become more self aware (am I standing still enough, have I offended anyone, am I singing too much, smiling too much, drawing too much attention to myself?), and less aware of the One whose praises I am singing. Heaven forbid.

Psalm 150

1 Praise the LORD. Praise God in his sanctuary;
praise him in his mighty heavens.

2 Praise him for his acts of power;
praise him for his surpassing greatness.

3 Praise him with the sounding of the trumpet,
praise him with the harp and lyre,

4 praise him with tambourine and dancing,
praise him with the strings and flute,

5 praise him with the clash of cymbals,
praise him with resounding cymbals.

6 Let everything that has breath praise the LORD.
Praise the LORD.

I’m grateful to say that at the encouragement of my pastor and my friend and worship pastor, I was able to more confidently step out and into a more authentic expression of my worship and leadership. By the last service, I felt at home. In fact, it was during the last service that I received what I will embrace as all of the affirmation that I hope to ever need if in the future yet another person feels obligated to tell me what a distraction I am and I’m tempted to begin the debilitating cycle of self-doubt again.

See, during the last service, my church offers our silent service for those members of our congregation who are deaf or hard of hearing, and it was one of those members, a brother, who came up to me and, in a way that he was sure I’d understand, motioned and mouthed the words “you were great up there. Thank you.” I, hugging him, told him thank you with tears in my eyes. I had tears because I knew that he, this deaf brother, could not hear me . . . but he, he could see me. He could see my worship - my lifted hands, my smiling face, my sometimes dancing, sometimes bowed body . . .

I trust that I was less a distraction to him, and more an encouragement for him to worship the God of us both. So, be encouraged to be who you are, to embrace how you’re made, and to express God within you the way He uniquely looks in you. Someone, someone needs to see it.

Peace and Blessings,

Nicole Walters