Hi, I’m Joe Crappy Singer

Holy, holy, holy is the Lord God Almighty.

Sometimes I think you have to be pretty gutsy to put the words of angels to music. Restricting divine words to our melodies and pitch and the highs and lows of popularity is not something to be taken lightly.

I often feel the same way about worship. But then sometimes I feel the opposite. God would rather have us croak out whatever feeble words we can manage to express a shred of our gratefulness for his glory. He’s not looking for a Pavarotti/Elvis duet with U2 playing back up. He’s looking for you, and he doesn’t care if you’re Joe crappy singer — which I usually am. Lately when we’ve been singing some more upbeat worship tunes and I really get into it I start to think I sound like Eddie Vedder. There I am, crooning out my worship to God, trying to close my eyes so I don’t notice the cringes all around me.

And as messed up as that seems to us, that’s exactly what God is looking for. When the angels sing holy, holy, holy, I don’t think God cares if they’re off tune or if they don’t come in at the right time. God is not a Rolling Stone music critic, or even a cranky back pew critic who finds every fault in our humble Sunday gatherings.

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