A significant upheaval within our church led to my hubby and I stepping into the leadership role of the worship band in 2014.
We had not asked for the position. I personally did not want to do it. But, as usual, the Lord set about making things work for my good that I wished He had done differently.
Like all church crises, the echoes and affects were far reaching in our lives, and I clawed through a season of debilitating anxiety. Every song I sang became an exercise in walking out what I had been learning so sweetly and kindly from the Lord over the prior years.
Worship isn't about the season I am in. It's about the God I am worshiping.
Slowly, slowly, I settled into a rhythm again. The anxiety retreated, and the Lord was so gracious in blessing us with a team of worshipers. Building a camaraderie of all pressing toward His presence, more today than yesterday, and more still tomorrow, bonded us.
And then I started to have some pain in my throat.
Strep, laryngitis, and a nasty cold later, I assumed it was just a winter sickness.
But the pain persisted.
I started struggling to make it through songs I was leading. I felt the tension in my vocal cords. I can remember coming down off the stage after worship and literally holding my neck with my hand, trying to find a way to lessen the tense pain I felt in the muscles.
Finally, not because I wanted to but because I felt like I had become a liability to the team, I went to the ENT. I will spare you the details of a scope into my nostril and then down into my windpipe. I will only mention briefly that I was asked to SING with that camera in my nose and throat, taking pictures of my vocal cords.
It was so not a blessing.
A couple painful procedures later, I was diagnosed with some developing nodules, and muscular tension dysphonia. Basically, my vocal muscles were tired and not working properly, and it would take major retraining to fix them.
So I started vocal therapy. And I did total vocal rest (which my husband and kids thought would be awesome in theory, but was actually really annoying for everyone when I could not answer their 10 million daily questions.)
I kept pushing through, singing, and I kept hurting, and after months of vocal therapy...they told me that all they could do had been done. I would either get better, or I wouldn't, and I would need to decide at what point to give up singing in order to maintain decent vocal function.
I passed off lead parts and harmony parts to my wonderful team. I sang, but with much less gusto. Gusto hurt, and besides, if I tried and my voice totally failed mid-song...that would be so embarrassing.
One morning in my quiet time, I remember telling the Lord, "I don't need to sing into a microphone to worship You. I will step out. I'm dragging everyone down anyway."
I felt settled. I made plans to talk it over with my hubby after the weekend.
That Sunday morning a song had been slotted, by said hubby, for me to lead. I had been saying no to most songs he had assigned me, because it hurt too much, or because I was concerned about totally ruining worship for everyone by opening my mouth and having a dying cow sound come out.
I looked at the song, and then shrugged internally. One last time, I thought. I can worship my Lord through the pain one more time.
"Who am I that the Highest King would welcome me?"
The first line came from my lips, and in a flash I saw my whole life, all my ugliness and struggle and striving and failure...and still He welcomed me, invited me, to come and worship Him. I smiled. What a glorious way to end all the years of singing.
The song continued and I felt the pain worsen. I could feel the muscles in my throat constricting and it grew harder and harder to push sound out. But I was determined to finish.
"Who the Son sets free, is free indeed. I'm a child of God, yes I am."
By the time I reached the bridge, I knew without a doubt that my voice would fail before the song was over. There was nothing left. I had been dealing with the struggle long enough to know.
"I am chosen, not forsaken, I am who You say I am."
You are for me, not against me, I am who You say I am."
Something happened in that moment. I opened my mouth, knowing no sound would come out, feeling in my physical throat that the muscles had stopped responding to my strain.
And yet, the words flowed. Even better, they sounded like they were in tune.
I laughed. I inhaled. I opened my mouth again.
I knew I was in the midst of a miracle. I knew it. I wasn't singing anymore. My voice had ceased to work.
The Holy Spirit was testifying of the Father and the Son, and He was breathing it out of my mouth, through my janky, tired, swollen vocal cords.
What was true in the spirit became true in the physical. I finished that song knowing that I hadn't really been singing. Instead, I had allowed the breath in my lungs to be HIS, and He had given me a miraculous encounter with Him that I would never stop being amazed by.
That was several years ago.
Every week, I wonder if this will be the week that the Lord releases me. Many weeks I arrive at rehearsal knowing my voice will hurt.
But the Lord gently reminds me of the truth.
His breath in my lungs.
His face as my focus.
Abandoned.
Testifying.
Because He is God.
And I will bring my sacrifice to Him.
It has become such a blessing, this physical reminder. If I lose focus on Him, on the WHY, on the spirit and truth and even-in-the-valley worship mindset...I can feel the pain again.
When I am walking in step with how He has called me to live, to worship, to minister...I don't feel the pain at all. The notes flow from my throat with ease.
Working for my good, that's what He is doing. Every time I worship Him, He works good in my heart. He expands His goodness toward me.
The other vocalists know that sometimes I will ask them to take a part I usually sing. "My voice is sad," I will say. And then...then I will remember...and I'll go sit down on a corner of the stage and refocus. Not because I want to be able to be the one singing.
But because this has become the way the Lord reminds me. In my heart, I am reminded of the little girl, and the cows, and the freedom of spirit that IS MORE POWERFUL than the failing of the physical body.
And He is faithful. Always faithful.
Who knows how long I will have this miracle. I don't even care at this point.
I'll never be anything besides a small town, grass roots girl, an average singer by the world's standards.
But...
He is worthy. And that is why I worship Him.
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