Last night I was caught completely off-guard by Gungor, the last artist of the Wednesday Night of Worship--as clichéd as this sounds, you really had to be there. I doubt I can come up with words to describe the evening. The variety of musical styles and instrumentation was amazing and surprisingly refreshing, coming at a time, for me, when I'm very nearly (and I hate to admit this as a worship leader in the church) "worshiped-out."

Having come to this conference immediately following a week at a quadrennial denominational conference that was also filled with inspiring times of worship, I think I'm at a point where I need some quietness and solitude, and not just to process all of the content that I've taken in, but just to be still before God.

Don't get me wrong--I love the incredible variety of worship bands and artists and all of the different styles and worship experiences that this conference affords, but two weeks of non-stop input and daily corporate worship has given me a yearning for...well, fishing.

And I'm not talking in spiritual terms about "fishing for souls"--I'm really talking about going by myself to a quiet, lonely spot on the lake, where the only sounds are the sounds of geese and cranes and turkeys in the woods and waves lapping at the rocks, and the occasional splash of a largemouth bass--where I can quietly reflect on the goodness and creativity of God, listen for his still, small voice, and rest in his presence.

Frankly, it's going to take some time for me to process everything I've heard and seen in the past couple of weeks. I'll transcribe my notes at some point, and I know that I'll be doing great if I can implement even one or two of the ideas that have come my way this past fortnight.

So, one more day of NWLC11, and I'm looking forward to it all; and then I'm looking forward to going home.

Again, let me be clear--I'm grateful beyond words for these times of communion with God, for opportunities to worship without being the worship leader on the platform, for new ideas and perspectives, for reminders of what my priorities ought to be, for a brief respite from the week-in, week-out routine of my ministry--all of that has been wonderful, priceless. And I love a loud guitar and drums as much as the next guy--maybe more than most guys my age. But I'm tired, and I'm ready to be alone with God for a while. I need some time to practice the discipline of solitude.

I'm grateful for the experiences and the content and the input; I pray I'll be able to process it thoroughly, and soon--but I'm also praying for a day's rest sometime soon.

There seem to be more people here this year--space has been more of an issue in many of the breakout workshops, and it just feels like a bigger crowd in the corporate worship times.

Miles McPherson (milesmcpherson.com) was our general session speaker this morning, and this former NFL player-turned-pastor was both entertaining (the guy could easily be a stand-up comedian) and inspiring in his clear, practical communication of the truth of God. This is a guy who knows the word and follows the heart of God.

It was also a treat to worship under the leadership of Reuben Morgan, Ben Fielding and Kari Jobe, who led a powerful acoustic set. (Morgan and Fielding wrote "Mighty to Save"--very cool to hear them lead it.)

My morning workshop was on the topic of moving people to participatory worship--unfortunately, I had to duck out of the last few minutes of it (too much coffee earlier this morning), but what I heard was helpful and motivating.

I'm going to try to get into an electric guitar workshop this afternoon, followed by a workshop on authentic and transparent discipleship for the worship leader. We'll see if I can find seats!

The folks who host us here at the Church of the Resurrection are really wonderful--every volunteer (and there are hundreds of them) has been cheerful, helpful and they seem truly blessed to serve us, even when they have to stand outside in the 100-degree heat and humidity to hand us bottles of water as we file past on our way to cool classrooms and auditoriums. Amazing.

Tonight's worship leaders are Kari Jobe, Gungor and Rebecca St. James.

I'm in day 2 of the National Worship Leader Conference in Kansas City, and this is on the heels of the General Conference of the Free Methodist Church of North America in Rochester, NY last week. (More on the latter conference another time; it is enough to say that it was really amazing.)

This conference, NWLC11, feels very much like it has in previous years, which is a good thing, because this has been a great conference the past two years. This morning I attended a session about which I was a little apprehensive, titled "Leading Worship after 40." My fear was that I was going to be told that it's time for me to stop and let younger blood take over. This was not the message, not entirely. That time will surely come, but in the meantime, more "seasoned" worship leaders need to be working closely with their younger team members, and mentoring many of them to continue their legacy. An inspiring (and convicting) session.

I was shut out of the acoustic guitar workshop I wanted to attend this afternoon because of space restrictions, but I did get a chance to sit in on the Tim Hughes songwriting workshop, "Releasing Creativity." Well worth the time. Hughes is a thoughtful and intelligent songwriter and worship leader, and his advice was great whether I ever write another song or not.

I also attended a session on utilizing space, art and music to introduce the element of surprise in worship, to keep the congregation awake and wondering what will happen from week to week--not surprise for the sake of surprise, but rather creative surprise for the purpose of awakening people to the truth of God in fresh and interesting ways.

Leonard Sweet filled in for the absent Jack Hayford in this morning's general session, and his thoughts are always worth mulling over. I'll try to summarize the main points of his talk a little later--as you can imagine, I've had little time to process the previous conference, much less the current one.

Tonight: Matt Redman, Brenton Brown and Brian and Jenn Johnson.

I just listened to an episode of the TED Talks podcast (TED is a non-profit organization devoted to "ideas worth spreading"--the acronym "TED" stands for "technology, entertainment, design." Well worth some time.) This particular episode was a talk by Rick Warren, pastor of Saddleback Church and author of The Purpose-Driven Life--he was talking about why his book continues to sell a million copies a month (this was in 2006) after three years, and he said it has to do with the fact that everyone eventually wonders about the purpose and meaning of their life. He referred to the story of Moses and God's call on his life--as he looked at the burning bush, God said to him, "What's that in your hand?" It was his shepherd's staff, the primary tool of his trade (Moses tended sheep). God told Moses to throw it down, and it became a snake--you know the story--and ultimately it became the tool through which God did all of the amazing things that followed in Moses' life--the plagues, the parting of the sea, etc.

Moses' staff was a symbol of who he was and what he did for a living. His willingness to do what God told him to do with it unleashed incredible power and influence in Moses' life. Pastor Warren used this story to make the point that God intends for us to use the things he gives us--the skills, the abilities, the experiences, the way we're wired. He made us this way, so why wouldn't he want us to be who we are? In fact, says Warren, God is most pleased when "you be you."

I've struggled at times with this very question of the way I'm wired--why would God wire me up this way if not for the purpose of using the way I'm wired for his purposes and glory? Warren says that when God sees one of his children doing the things he wired him or her up to do, he is pleased.

Earlier this week, I overheard some co-workers talking about the film, "Chariots of Fire," and I couldn't help but remember the scene in which Eric Liddell has a conversation with his sister, who seems a bit put off that he is pursuing his career as an Olympic runner, seemingly forestalling their plans to go to China as missionaries. He explains to her (I'm paraphrasing), "God made me for a purpose--he made me for China. But he also made me fast. And when I run, I feel his pleasure."

I'm realizing (and it's taken a very long time) that the thing that pleases God the most in my life is when I do the very things that he has made me for. It's tempting, for those of us who are wired up as nerds, to think that somehow our gifts and abilities are less "spiritual" than those of people who are wired up for the more traditional spiritual professions--preachers, teachers, missionaries, etc., and to consider ourselves as being less useful for God's purposes. But the truth is that when we do the things that God uniquely wired us up to do, he is pleased.

So, what's that in your hand?

(I'm cross-posting this entry in my media blog.)

I'm taking my lovely wife to see Andrew Peterson this weekend, and somewhere along the way I found the Rabbit Room, a collaborative blog written by Peterson and several other artists. Pure gold. Why am I just finding out about this?

If you're a Christian artist (of any sort, singer, songwriter, singer/songwriter, painter, glassblower, puppeteer, whatever), then do yourself a huge favor and set aside a couple of hours to browse through the many interesting and engaging posts at The Rabbit Room. The writing is excellent, thought-provoking, refreshing, encouraging and challenging. You'll bookmark it or add it to your RSS reader (if you're smart). You'll come back to it again and again, and you'll pine for the next new post.

Just take my word for it and get over there.

One of the things I've noticed about modern worship music (and I think I've mentioned this before) is that there are quite a few songs out there that contain lyrics that make statements like these:

"We lift our hands..."
"We stand and lift up our hands..."
"I stand before you now with trembling hands lifted high..."
"And I will daily lift my hands..."
"Lift up your hands, be lifted up..."
"We lift our holy hands up..."
"Lift up your hands and clap for joy..."
"Our hands are lifted high..."
"We lift our hands in praise to you..."

When I'm in a place like the National Worship Leader Conference, there are way more hands in the air than there are at people's sides. But when I'm leading worship in my church, on a "good" day there might be one pair of hands lifted up out of fifty, or even a hundred. You could pick almost any other phrase in any song that prescribes a certain posture (e.g., "We bow down..."), and more times than not (in my church, anyway), what we sing is not reflected in our posture in worship.

I suspect that to a great extent, this is a cultural thing that varies considerably from church to church, and our church is (apparently) not much of a "hand-raising" church. Should I be concerned about that? It is enormously tempting for a worship leader to assess the effectiveness of his or her worship leading on the basis of how many people seem to be "into" the worship singing enough to lift their hands, clap their hands, sing along, what have you. Is that reasonable?

I have led worship for groups of pastors and lay leaders from time to time, and I must admit that when I've led groups like that, they tend to get physically engaged in worship far more than our regular Sunday congregations, and I find it more exciting, more rewarding and more satisfying when that happens. Should that be the case? Is it really fair to assess one's effectiveness as a worship leader, or the effectiveness of a given worship set, based on what percentage of the group has their hands in the air (or clapping, or weeping, or (pick some other criterion)?

Maybe I should just chill out about this--but I confess that it bothers me just a little bit that so many of our people can sing songs like the ones I quoted from above, week in and week out, without actually doing what it is that they are saying they are doing by singing those songs. Is it disingenuous for us to sing lines like those while we're just standing with our arms at our sides (or folded, or with our hands in our pockets)?

In the interest of full disclosure, I have to admit that I've not traditionally been much of a "hand-raiser" in worship myself. This is partly because I am a worship leader who plays the guitar, and one typically needs both hands for that, and the times that I'm in worship and not leading worship are, sadly, few and far between. And even in the context where I'm worshiping but not leading (like when I'm at a worship conference), I'm not likely to have my hands in the air all the time. I suppose I reserve that physical expression for times when I am (for lack of better language to describe it) "in the moment" emotionally.

Does that say something negative about me as a worshiper? Does it say something negative about anyone in worship who doesn't lift their hands (or clap, or otherwise become physically engaged)? Are those who don't raise their hands in worship somehow less spiritual or less earnest in worship than those who do? (Should I even be asking questions like these?)

If the raising of hands in worship is merely a matter of congregational culture and/or personal preference and style, should those of us who lead worship in churches that typically don't raise their hands avoid leading our congregations with songs that seem to encourage the singer to do that? To put it a bit more bluntly, are we singing lies? If I sing, "I lift my hands up" with my hands in my pockets, have I been dishonest in some way, or do we view such lyrics as merely poetic or somehow suggestive of the internal, unseen posture of our hearts?

As it turns out, the Scripture actually encourages worshipers to lift their hands (see Psalm 134:2, for example). Shouldn't I, as a worship leader, do the same? Should the members of our worship team who aren't busy playing instruments actually be modeling this posture for our congregation?

Is there danger that the lifting of hands in worship could become a peer-pressure thing? By encouraging the lifting of hands, are we running the risk that someone whose heart really isn't into worship will go along with it merely because they don't want to be seen NOT doing it? Shouldn't this expression of worship be genuine and natural, flowing from a heart that is truly yielded to God in worship?

And if the lifting of hands is to be encouraged and modeled, what of those people who are extremely uncomfortable, perhaps not really ready to express themselves in that way? Have we put them in an awkward situation?

Or is the lifting of hands in worship something that we do outwardly in obedience, whether we truly "feel it" inwardly or not? Is it the sort of thing that can affect our hearts in the same way that serving someone we don't really like can often end up endearing them to us?

I know that others have written about this extensively (yeah, I Googled it), and I'll go read what they have to say when I get more time, but in the meantime, I'm just asking these questions.

Do you have any thoughts on this?