Yesterday was a good day.
A busy day, but a good one. I play piano on my church's worship team. I don't know if I've mentioned that here before. But it's true; I started playing in youth when I was fifteen or sixteen, and I've since transitioned to jamming out in the grown-up church.
The grown-up portion of the church gets called various things. I call it "big service," but it's known at church as "main service" or simply as "main." Our worship leader used to be the youth pastor. One day, youth was cancelled, so he announced over the microphone, "Next week, we will be in main."
For some reason, I thought he meant Maine, as in the state with lobsters and L.L. Bean. I wondered if the youth was taking a mission trip I hadn't been informed of.
Apparently, I wasn't the only person who thought that, because five minutes later, the youth pastor's voice came over the loudspeakers again. "Main service. Jeez. Not the state."
Anyway, I really like this guy. It's not like we know each other well or consider each other friends. We're siblings in Christ, though, which is a rather unique and hard-to-explain dynamic. So when I found out on Sunday that I was supposed to play on Wednesday--not just for a normal set, but for a set composed entirely of worship--I hesitantly said yes and immediately apologized for not having enough time to practice.
But the service went great.
We didn't even have enough time to practice all the songs together as a band. We got through five songs in forty minutes, which is good considering that we had to reconfigure how many time we were going to play the bridge on one particular song. But then, when service started, and we spent an hour and eight minutes playing and singing and worshiping God...it was great.
You know how refreshed you feel after a good talk with your best friend? How loved you feel after snuggling someone on the couch while watching a movie? How touched you feel when someone gives you a present just because? That's what spending an hour and eight minutes in God's presence is like.
Normally, by the end of the fifth song, I'm just...worshipped out. My imagination is tired of being silenced, my flesh is ready to go home and watch Criminal Minds. But not last night. I enjoyed every minute of it.
I'll have to do it again sometime. And if you've never gone to a worship night, it's a worthwhile experience. Even if you poop out after the first four songs and have to sit in the back for a while. It's okay. You have to start somewhere.
Well, I have to clean the house today. And wash my sheets. And you know...my bedroom is such a disaster area I should probably apply for federal funds to help with the clean-up. So I'd better get busy. List your favorite worship song (or your favorite song to clean to) in the comments, and have a great day, dear readers!
M. J. Piazza is a Jesus-loving, dog-walking country girl who just so happens to write books.