Singing Ugly

There I was in a roomful of mostly teenage boys, all of them belting out the words to "Blessed Be Your Name" as I strummed my guitar and sang it out with them. We'd sung it the past three or four weeks in a row, but they still weren't tired of it. Not in the way many people would be by that point. In fact, they were the ones who'd requested we sing it. Sometimes singing sounds a bit more like shouting, though. And although some music majors I know might have cringed had they heard it, I would never have traded those minutes of hearing our guys sing out passionately to Jesus, much less the privilege of singing to Him with them. 

To some, it may have sounded overly-boisterous. To others, perhaps a bit off-key. But for me and the other youth leaders present (if I am allowed to speak for them), it was beautiful. True, a few of the boys may have only been singing so loud simply because they knew the words to this one, and one or two might have been attempting to show off (or goof off). But many of them, you could tell, were truly worshiping. 

Very, very few things in my twenty-two years of living have ever impacted me quite the way those moments did. My heart wanted to burst inside me with joy and thankfulness and awe, just seeing glimpses of what God was doing in these kids I love (and now miss terribly. I still pray for you.), how He was drawing their hearts after Him. It felt like I got a sneak-peek in that moment of His Fatherly heart, for He delights to hear His children sing.

God doesn't demand a series of perfect notes; more often I think He wants to hear our broken dissonance. Anyone can practice and train until they can mechanically produce just the right sounds, but is it just me or does flawless performance sometimes seem to be lacking in feeling? Don't get me wrong; I'm not saying you shouldn't work at singing "better." But I can tell you that after hearing students of music hurl all their disgust at a Christmas concert because at one point the audience was invited to join in and they "weren't singing it right" or were way off key, my heart was not pressed much towards worship; it was broken, because all they could see were the notes and not the far more priceless souls of the people uttering them. 

There's this theory I've run into at times, that some people can't sing. I, personally, think it's hogwash. I invite and even plea with you to sing ugly. Please. Do it for me. Because on the days when I'm focusing more on hitting the appropriate notes than on the One I'm singing to, I need to hear you behind or beside me crying from an earnest heart like some of those youth-group boys in Jackson were that night. I need to be reminded it's less about my perfect performance (though I dare say I've never given one of those anyway), and more about the One we're singing to. 

I very much look forward to the day when all God's people are gathered together in one place to worship the one true King and desire of our hearts. I don't know whether we'll all be able to sing perfectly then or what, but I have a feeling we won't so much care what we might sound like individually at that point. Our eyes, our ears, our hearts--they will be focused elsewhere. They'll be focused where they should be in the here and now. 

So if singing beautifully comes more naturally to you, don't look down on someone else for singing off-key. Learn to find delight in their willingness to sing anyway, even if perhaps its a more humbling experience than it is for you; or maybe it's not because they can't hear themselves. Maybe none of us should care to hear ourselves. I for one sing best (I think) when I'm not focusing on the singing, but on Jesus. I can't say that for sure, because honestly when it happens I'm not really listening to myself. Because it's not about me. It's not about my voice, or yours for that matter. It's about the One who gave us a reason to sing--who is the reason why we sing. 

There's just something about hearing multiple voices raised in praise and surrender to Him. It's beautiful. It's encouraging. It's a teeny, tiny piece of heaven here on this earth. So don't sacrifice that by putting overmuch emphasis on how you or anyone around you is singing. Just worship; get lost in awe and joy and the sovereignty of the One who is our hope, our King, our Redeemer. He's worthy of all our praise, and then some. Let's put the emphasis where it's due. 

An Open Letter to Switchfoot

{First off, let me state simply that although the term "open letter" bears the connotation (due to  a long history) of being political-type tools for sparking debates--that is not what I intend this to be. In fact, that's far from my intent with this open letter. Rather, this is partially me striving to walk out what I talk about, and partially me attempting to counteract a cycle of criticism and attack when it comes to us Christians and what we believe vs. what we think our brothers or sisters believe. I'm not saying that rebuke and correction are wrong--they are most certainly a necessary part of doing life together and pressing one another closer to Christ--but there is also a time and a place for encouragement and exhortation. More often than you might think, correction and encouragement even go hand-in-hand. As for me, this letter is meant more as a public thank-you than a critique.}

Dear Switchfoot (a.k.a. Jon, Tim, Jerome, Chad, and Drew),

Guys, I just want to say thank you for sticking it out and continuing on a road that I know hasn't always (or ever?) been easy for all these years. Thank you for your unashamed honesty and vulnerable transparency through your music, interviews, concerts, etc. I haven't seen Fading West yet, but a couple days ago I was blessed to be able to see you in concert for the first time, here in Memphis. It was an awesome time, and more encouraging than I feel able to put into words. I've been listening to your music for the past ten or so years, and God's really used it at so many points in my life--sometimes to encourage, sometimes to convict, almost always to sharpen my focus on things. There is perhaps no more vulnerable position to be in than to pour out your heart to people who don't know you, to put your art out there where anyone can see/hear it, where more than a few can (and have) come away with a wrong impression of what you're striving to communicate. Thank you for being persistent in putting yourselves outside your comfort zones and daring to continue to be honest in your lives and your music.

I've listened to a lot of bands/artists over the years, but I have to say Switchfoot holds a unique role in my journey. The first song of y'all's I ever heard was "Dare You to Move," and when you played that one at the concert it took me back to so many moments it's been instrumental in--from the comforting and peaceful effect it had as the only familiar song coming over the radio to a nervous twelve-year-old in a doctor's office, to various moments waking up to it during high school and reminding me that "Today never happened before." I can't tell you how many times any one of your songs has pushed me to think through things more intentionally.

And I have to tell you that it hasn't always resulted in a better stance on my part. I must admit that for a season (specifically after I first bought and listened to Nothing Is Sound) I was really disheartened by your music, because it felt like you were emphasizing so much the darkness and the disconnect, the things so wrong with this world we live in--that you didn't have enough emphasis on the hope that exists on the flip-side of all that. I felt letdown, in a way (no pun intended), because it seemed to me that y'all had gotten overly cynical. At that point in my life, letdowns like that felt irreversible; I was under the impression that once someone I respected started to show signs of faltering, it was only the beginning of an inevitable, downward spiral.

But you see, that is exactly why you guys ended up with this unique and special role. I can't remember specifically which song or album I was listening to, but the moment still stands out in my memory, alone in my backyard with a portable CD player and a pair of headphones, gazing up into a starry sky and expressing to God my feelings disappointment. And He responded. He answered my despair with a gentle, loving rebuke: "So pray for them." It was no audible voice, and not even something that can necessarily completely fit into words, but He impressed on my heart that night a glimpse into the reality He has since been leading and training me in, that my position is not that of a helpless bystander, and that my job is not merely to applaud or disapprove of anyone else's actions (or music). That night was when God first started teaching me not to give up on people.

So I kept listening to Switchfoot. And I kept praying. And this has been one of the most significant instances in my life that I can point to and testify that prayer doesn't just change who or what you're praying for; it changes you. And more often than not, it's been my heart that needs to change, moreso than the circumstances I'm praying about. That's been the story of this journey with my encounter(s) with your music. I admit, I've been arrogant at times, judged myself capable of knowing where y'all's hearts were at through hearsay and a handful of song fragments; thinking I could guess your motives when I heard about your "going mainstream" and facing much of the same fierce debate and criticism Lecrae is presently wading through. But over and over again, God kept pressing me back to my knees about it. I didn't know exactly what I was praying for, what it would look like if and when those prayers were answered; I just knew that I wasn't allowed to throw my hands up and walk away. I knew that even when I didn't agree with every line of every song (and to be honest, there are still some I disagree with), it was not left to me to frown, condemn, and turn away.

Why? Because y'all are my brothers. 

I may not know you, may never have a conversation with any of you, but I am bound to you with blood that runs thicker than any merely-human blood ever could. Even if we don't see completely eye-to-eye on everything, even if we have completely different lifestyles and schedules and routines, we're all following the same King. We're all learning to walk out His love more truly day by day, seeing more and more clearly that, indeed, "Love alone is worth the fight." We're all learning to see ourselves and others more like He sees us and less like the world does. We're all in this thing together.

So thank you. Thank you for being honest in a world that pushes for fake images...for daring to walk a path of risk and adventure and discomfort...for pouring your hearts and lives out night after night to share your songs with strangers and friends alike...for demonstrating love in the face of animosity...for being humble in your honesty and down-to-earth in your presentation...for directing the loudest applause toward someone else...for speaking (and singing) the truth in love. After all these years, I have to say you guys have proven yourselves and your message by how you have walked it all out. Keep changing the world, one step, one song, one smile at a time. And know that I'm still in your corner, and still praying for you. Keep living it out!

For His glory,
-Kala

Entering the Battle (Notes on Music: Part 1)

I mean that title. But before I get into it, let me tell you what I don't mean by it. I don't mean I'm looking for trouble or I'm planning to be antagonistic about all this. I don't mean I'm wanting to start some kind of debate. By nature, I am a shy, sheepish person who doesn't particularly like stirring up hornets' nests. But beneath the surface there is a fire, a burning passion that somehow can't sit still and watch all the time, and leave things the way they are. I'm aware that some of the things I have to say in upcoming posts are not going to be popular, and they might make you feel uncomfortable, or offended, or uncertain. I'm not asking you to agree with every word I say or every facet of opinion I hold regarding art or music or the music industry or even our culture. You don't have to agree with me. In fact, you don't even have to read it.

But I have to write it. I have to write it because it has been welling up inside me for so long and the dam's about to break if I try to put it off longer. I have to write it because I can't keep silent any longer, because there is a battle going on over this and because this battle I've been fighting silently for years now is surfacing, and the same God who at other times has miraculously enabled me to keep my mouth shut is now opening it. I honestly still don't feel like I'm ready for this, but perhaps I need that edge of incapability to force me to approach this humbly and not with arrogance.

Now let me explain a little more about the battle aspect. As KJ52 put it in a song, "See, the battle's for souls, and we['re] on the front lines." When it all boils down, the heart of the matter is not our music or our taste or our opinions; it's about a war that's been waging longer than any of us have been alive, and the victories in that battle take place when the God of the universe brings people from death into life. It's not about our music. But it influences our music, and music can play a role in this battle. Part of the reason this topic is so close to my heart is how influential music has been in my own story of God bringing me from death into life.

Music communicates. It does so differently than other modes of communication: it's not always as clear as writing or as straightforward as speaking. On some levels, music is its own language, conveying moods, ideas, themes, feelings, and heart-cries even when there are no words accompanying it. It serves a function, because there aren't always words, and sometimes our words need something to drive them home to the listener's heart. And music can do that.

God created music for a reason. And at the core of that reason is the same purpose He created everything else for: His glory. Because He needs stars and planets and people and all of creation testifying to his goodness to make Him feel secure in His position? No. Because He is that good. Because He is the only One worthy of such worship; nothing and no one else compares to Him, nor ever will.

If we're going to get into talking about things like love and God's glory and worship, we may need to pause here to bring up something that is at once impossible to fully explain or comprehend for our finite minds, but which is central and crucial to the why and the how of it all: the Trinity. You cannot fully explain or understand the love of God if you don't understand this truth about who He is: that He Himself sets the example of love not being self-seeking (1 Cor. 13). God the Father, God the Son, and God the Holy Spirit: One God. I know, on the surface it makes about as much sense as your math teacher telling you 3=1. But then again, it's not the only time the Bible defies our math textbooks: He also said that husband and wife become "one flesh" (2=1), remember?

So the moral of the story is to throw away your algebra book, because it obviously doesn't line up with what the Bible teaches, right? (Friends who are math majors--please don't stone me for saying that!) Of course not. The Bible is full of math. The point here both is and isn't the math. It is, because the Trinity (and marriage, for that matter) stands out as a stark reminder to us that our God is much, much bigger and greater than we will ever be able to fully know. That's why He's God, and we're not. I for one don't have the capacity to keep the earth spinning around the sun, hold every molecule together, and orchestrate the events and interwoven stories and struggles of every person on this earth in this moment. I can't even fully grasp all that He is at work in, from sunsets to flowers to providing birds with food to eat.

Back to the Trinity: this is the epitome of love that seeks another's gain. The Father, Son, and Spirit have been in constant unity and fellowship since before time began. The Father's love for the Son and the Spirit, the Son's love for the Spirit and the Father, the Spirit's love for the Father and the Son...who can adequately describe it? See, God's not after His own glory for the sake of making a name for Himself; His Name already stood, unshakably and undeniably, long before He made anything to testify of it. Everything that exists finds its purpose in proclaiming His glory, because He is more glorious than even all creation's worship can proclaim. He is greater than all we see, all we have seen, all we ever will.

"For from Him and through Him and to Him are all things. To Him be glory forever. Amen." 

-Romans 11:36

This is at the heart of the battle that started when a created being who was not worthy of such worship, tried to claim God's glory as his own. Captivated by his own light, he rebelled against its Source: the One who had made him and given him everything he was, everything he had, everything he was now trying to elevate above his Maker. Lucifer fell, along with all who followed him. And the story could have ended there, before this world knew the sting of death and the pain of sin. But there was a greater glory that would not have been seen or known or even guessed at, had God stomped out Satan when he first rebelled. As Switchfoot put it, "The shadow proves the sunshine." The darkness is itself evidence of the light's existence, and that there is something standing between that light and the patch of ground that's shaded. But darkness always loses out to the light. 

There was a greater glory to be displayed in our God's faithfulness to people who also rebelled against Him, who ran from Him, who failed time and again (ahem, still do) to see and sing of His glory. He has proven Himself stronger than our darkness in His ability to call us "into His marvelous light," so that we may proclaim His greatness and His glory. 

The greater glory is known as the Gospel. The good news. The fulfilled promise, that our God did not leave us as orphans, that He did not leave us broken, empty, chasing the tails of our own glory. This is the fulfillment of what we were created for: to know and to sing of the glory of the One who made us. The greater-ness of our God, who overcomes everything that would stand between Him and accomplishing His purposes in this earth to display the greater glory.

And this is the battle. And music plays a part. In the posts that follow this one, I'm not going to claim what all music should or should not look like. But I'm also not going to pull any punches and say that "art for art's sake" is okay. The purpose of our music, just like the purpose of our lives, should be the praise of His glory. And there's not one set way to do that. But we'll get into all that at a later date. =) For now, I leave you with this song to ponder how much bigger our God is than we will ever fully understand. 

There's a Battle Going on Here

I'm going to attempt to keep this short, because it's really too big a subject for me to dive into in one solo post, but perhaps this one will turn into an intro of sorts and I can return to the subject at a later date and go more in depth.

But there is a battle going on, and it reaches into many, many facets of our lives. Heaven and hell are vying for men's souls, and the war infiltrates every medium of communication, and even art, that we have. One area in particular that's been highlighted for me in recent years, is music.

Again, I am doing my best to keep this brief tonight, as this is something I've been thinking and praying about for quite a while now, so there's a lot I want to say, but now's not the time for all of it. I don't know how many people underestimate the power of music in our lives, but there shouldn't be any who can. At least here in America, where we have such a wide variety of music available right at our fingertips (or headphones), music is one thing that impacts us in ways many other means of communication can't. Words are powerful, don't miss that. But music has a way of aiding words' message, or even speaking on its own apart from words, that hits our hearts.

And I believe there is a battle going on in the arena of music. I'll be honest and say that although I have a very wide range of the types of musical style that I like--from instrumental to hip-hop to pop and folk and so forth--what I choose and prefer to listen to is generally within the ranges of "Christian" music. I put it in quotes because I've got a bit of an opinion on the labeling--because not everything that labels itself as "Christian" lines up at all with what Scripture or even Christ Himself says. I've grown up listening to largely contemporary "Christian" music, including more than a few songs that I wouldn't necessarily recommend to anyone now but that at the time were instrumental in getting my heart where it needed to be for God to work in it. The beauty I find in that is that we serve a God who is bigger than doctrinal flaws in lyrics and human flaws in general, and who is more than able to speak through the broken vessels that we all are.

When I first began to be aware that not all "Christian" music was entirely wholesome or entirely in-line with actual Christianity, the zealous hard-line prophet within me wanted to denounce any artist who had even one song or one line in a song I didn't agree with. I allowed myself to become focused upon the flaws and grieved over issues that, while not unimportant, never should have been my central focus. I became very judgmental about music. And it was in the midst of that judgmental season, where I was ready to completely give up on any artist whose doctrine seemed shallow or unfounded, that God nudged me and questioned my line of thinking.

These were my brothers and sisters in Christ that I was denouncing, acting as if one flaw or lack of understanding or a "correct" stance in my eyes, was enough to mean there was no hope that anything good could come from them from then on. All around me, I was seeing artists I had once respected falling short and failing to keep either their music or their lives in line with the teachings of Scripture. And I was giving up on them, left and right, clinging to the few who had yet to let me down.

But in the midst of my ranting and my disappointment, God posed a very pointed question to my soul: "So what are you doing about it?" As one of His followers, was I called to abandon my brothers and sisters taking on the spiritual battle (knowingly or not) in the arena of music? Or was I rather called to desire for them to be drawn closer to Him and made stronger by Him? Was I called to focus upon their flaws and say that because of this or that they couldn't possibly be used by Him?

I reeled back in shock as He reminded me of several songs and artists that had deeply impacted me only a few short years before, even if some of them had since lost my loyalty or respect. In the moments I needed to hear that particular message, it was there, and God used even flawed and imperfect lyrics and, yes, even trite music styles, to bring my heart to its knees and bring me to a place of surrender where I not only realized my need of Him, but His willingness to be the answer to that need.

Perhaps I'm rambling by now, but what is on my heart tonight to say is this: I have realized I am called to cheer for my brothers and sisters in Christ, to lift them in prayer whether I agree with everything they say or do or not. Can I endorse or applaud artists who hit the mark, whose lives and music are so evidently shining with the Light of the Gospel and the testimony of lives transformed by grace? Absolutely. But I no longer feel at liberty to put down those I don't admire as much or write them off the moment I hear something in their lyrics that grieves me. That's not what I'm called to. I'm called to forgive, and to hope and even expect the best for them. I'm called to pray rather than ignore, to look not to man but to God to accomplish His purposes in us and to draw all our hearts--musician and listener alike--closer to His.

More to come at some point regarding some more specific testimonies of how God's been driving this into me, but for now, hear me on this:

    There is a battle going on.
     We do not wrestle with flesh and blood.
    The victory is in the hand of the Lord.
    He's never lost a battle yet.
    There are greater things ahead on the music scene than any we've seen yet.
    Our God is on the move.

RAK KHAZAK. Be strong.