Two weeks ago, I was asked to speak in church, to present an "Intersection of Faith."  I was happy to speak about where I have seen and felt God's presence these last few months.   Here it is, written.

When I think of an “intersection of faith” I think about a street corner, and what the streets might be named at that corner when God appears, unexpectedly.  This past year, the the streets in my church life might have been named “Music” and “Worship.”  But, truth be told, I was already running away, down a different road.  

I was finished with church music.  I love singing and listening, of course, but after more than 3 years on Music Board, I was ready to try something new. I went to a PINS meeting, window shopping along my journey for a different sort of volunteer opportunity.   

When I was invited to attend a worship meeting, I was wary— I was a visitor, after all, and I thought I should sit quietly for and listen—but that’s really not my style.  Before long, I found myself invested in the discussions about liturgy, planning, timing, and of course, music.  The music questions seemed to be directed at me, and I did my best to field them.  I’m not a choir director or a worship leader.  I actually know quite a lot. . . of nothing.  But I know what I like, and I’m usually willing to say so.

That night, amid dodging questions about hymns, I noticed a palpable spirit among the people there.  The excitement surrounding the creation of the eleven fifty-nine was contagious, though I had to admit that part of me felt like a big phony — was this service even for me?  The other side of me wanted to be a part of the experience.  Either way, I was pulled to the process in a way I have not been pulled before, and I left that first night feeling energized and renewed.  

Shockingly, I found myself on the worship team email list the next day.  I remember thinking,  “It’s fine.  I don’t have to focus on just the music, since I’m done with music, right, God?

Soon after I found myself in Peter’s office, with a question posed to me.  

“Can you give me two out of three?”

Were we gambling in church? Not exactly.  There were some committees on the table, and I needed to choose.  Was I ready to choose nothing at all?  

“Peter, I’m not sure,” I said.  I was trying to quickly, and without panicking, figure out if I could I stay on the worship team and lead a worship music committee while finishing my term on music board.   The search committee for the new director of music ministries was also being formed.  

I had to think fast.  Peter was waiting, and my head was spinning.

“God, I’m not sure what’s going on here, remember?” I thought.  “I thought—no more music.  And now three new music committees?”  I had no idea what to say.

“Yes,” I heard.  “I can do two out of three.”

Was that my voice?
“Worship and search,” Peter said.  “And music board is almost over for the year.”

So, three out of three, at least for a while.  

“You know I know nothing about music,” I said, in a last ditch effort.    “I love music and I love to sing, but I have no real background.”

“It’s completely okay,” said my minister.  “I didn’t really go past the 7th grade.”

That’s funny, I thought.  He’s a funny guy.  

And I also thought, that’s funny, God.  Why are you leading me further down this road, into the dark alleys of meetings and emails and interviews?  Where are you taking me?  I had no idea.

Within minutes of the first meeting of the search committee, I knew.  The people around me were buzzing with energy, and the work here, and on all three committees began to fill me, not deplete me as I had feared.   I was more involved in church musice than I had ever been, and I was also more excited about meetings than I ever expected.  Who leaves a meeting with goosebumps?  Maybe I do, after God has been so obviously present.  

Over the summer, we hired a new director of music ministries, who arrived just in time to help audition singers for the eleven-fifty nine.  We were looking for a pianist, and had to look no further than Tom.  We were searching for a vocalist, and found two— two who not only auditioned, but who worshiped with us during their auditions.   The abundance was obvious, the timing a blessing.  God had provided more than we had ever prayed for, and we were grateful.  We gave thanks, knowing we had not been alone along this journey.    

I know without question that none of this was serendipity, coincidence or luck.  God’s plan all along was for our church to be blessed with a choice, and for the participants to come together exactly when and exactly how they did.  

Recently, standing in the kitchen at Open M, I was approached by a friend, a woman from church.

“Are you a part of this new service?” she asked me.

“I am,” I said, knowing I had better get this right.  She has a clear and strong voice in our congregation, and I wanted her to have the best information I could provide.    I said a speed-prayer, asking God to grant me clarity as I went on to express my excitement, and my hope that she would come and see what I have seen.   

Because I have seen God over and over again these past few months, standing on my corner of “Music and Worship.”  And even though I proceeded to stumble over every word in that kitchen conversation, I hoped my enthusiasm spoke for itself.

I worship through music, and God guided me back— just down a different path, or three.  And I know now, that whenever I am not sure where the road leads, I can simply show up.  God will lead me where I was meant to go all along.