Sunday Mornings

I've got nothing against musicals, if they're good enough. I just never asked to live in one. But every Sunday, that seems to be the case. This particular Sunday was no exception.

We started with the usual barage of praise choruses. They seemed introspective or just plain shallow, or I was just in a crotchety mood. Either way, I decided the most honest way to worship was choosing not to sing.

One song in particular made this choice interesting. The verses were from Amazing Grace, a song I could never have a problem singing. But the chorus was added on by some contemporary Christian singer, as if adding a chorus made it his song now. Did it add meaning? Not really, so I just sang the verses.

We were done singing, and then we were ready for...more singing! But before that, we had to listen to someone else play special music. She played the piano well, but beyond acknowledging that I had nothing major to reflect on. So I watched members of the audience for a clue. Women were watching the fingers move, to see if they could do that. Men seemed impressed, because many of them couldn't do that. One dude was doing a sort of restrained "holy head-banging" nod thing. It was distinct from the sleep nod, so I gathered he enjoyed it. No one else looked bored.

We sang a couple of hymns. I knew or at least hoped the message would be good, as it usually is. But the excessive singing makes it hard for me to focus. I mean, it's exactly like living in a musical. No one sings this much in real life.

The message was good, then we sang our closing song. "They Will Know We are Christians by Our Love." I thought they'd know by our excessive singing, but I hope the other is true as well.