Why did I do it?
This was dumb.
Did I think something would be miraculously different this time?
Yes, she’s living on the edge. I’m going to do the dirty deed. Oh, it’s not what you’re thinking. I’m going to lead worship again.
Easter Sunday.
The most major holiday of the year in any church, this little infidel is going to lead worship. I’m doing a blindfolded dive into the deep end of the pool. The water may be a not-so-balmy forty degrees. Or frozen altogether, concussion anyone? I almost can’t say no, I’m asked to do this by a good friend, and there aren’t exactly a bunch of people sitting around with the skill set to pull this out of their back pocket who aren’t already quite busy with their own church. Easter Sunday, though…I wonder how the hell their worship director is taking off Easter Sunday, isn’t that the one day no worship director on the planet is off? Isn’t Easter literally in the job description? Holy days? And immediately I’m thinking there’s probably some BS going on under the hood at this church.
God must be calling me. Yes, God. This must be a God thing. With all the crazy shit going on in my life, maybe I need to return to my spiritual roots, maybe this time it will be better… and I sit down in front of the cabinet in my apartment and haul out a massive pile… stacks of music I haven’t had the heart to touch since DX yanked them from my vacated office when I was tossed from the church nearly five years ago. Memories flood back…a Christmas service with Trans-Siberian Orchestra blaring into the snowy night, a parade float bearing funk and a person-sized disco ball, a soaring Debussy flute solo, songs with odd meters, all of the crazy and incredible things I was privileged to have led, and the people I loved, and my eyes blur with melancholy tears as I think of how abruptly it all ended.
My mind fills with melodies from the past, but just as surprising as the swell of emotion is a realization… songs I know I loved, but can no longer recall. Have I really been away this long? Many of my beloved songs are now evaporated from my mind, leaving just a whisper of a title in my grey matter, enough to know something was once there. The church and its music has become a shadow in my mind. I just don’t remember anymore. I have a lump in my throat at the thought of how much I have lost. Will I be able to do this service justice? I may be unsure about where I’m at spiritually, but I know I want to help these unsuspecting folks connect with God. I will do my very best, give my very best. I’m ready to try again, pouring water out of a broken vessel. Hope it’s not too cracked.
They want me to sit in on their worship team for about six weeks, and then lead the worship service on Easter Sunday, when their regular guy will be out of town. I know, I know. Monica, have you lost your mind? (yes) Are you in any condition to do this? (no) Don’t you think you’ll get struck by lightning?? (if the powers that be didn’t already do me in for the awful pun in this chapter’s title, I’ll probably be okay)
I find myself dusting off my demure dress shoes and modest churchwear. Okay, I’m lying. I actually have to go purchase modest pumps and frumpwear, I know exactly what I need to wear, and I most definitely don’t own any of it any longer. Button oxfords, navy low-heel pumps, loose-fitting pants, yeah I know the routine. I can’t believe I’m doing this. I once again am waking up stupid early on Sundays. It’s Assembly of God, and those can run from rather conservative to holy barking mad. This one seems pretty normal and they are keeping the Gifts of the Spirit tamed down enough to have a reasonable service. I am grateful to discover that their team is surprisingly good. I’m going to be able to do some great music here.
did I mention the lead guitar guy is kinda cute?
Come on, that’s not the only reason I did it.
I genuinely wanted to know if I had done the right thing in exiting ministry altogether. The only way I’ll know if this is a calling is if I give it a try…and I get on the bicycle and start to pedal, though I bear the scars of having fallen off one too many times…
I pull out my favorite songs, and begin the familiar work of putting together the set. I start attending and sitting in on their team. I’m getting back in the swing of it all, so far, so good. It’s very interesting to me that this is the same denomination in which I was fired for getting divorced, but since it didn’t happen in this particular church, apparently it doesn’t matter. Whatever. Did I actually expect this to make any sense?
I hit it off well with the cute guitar player. Churchdude. Am I supposed to flirt in church? I find out the important part, he is indeed single. Also, he’s a really faithful believer, unlikely to be a player or an asshole. Certainly new territory.
I’m thinking maybe this is kinda great when I have my first meeting with the pastor about the Easter Sunday service. Oooookay, now the skeletons are rattling on out. He wants me to handle each song in a particular way, and we need to do it like such and such church. I can tell he has seen some nebulous larger ministry in a mysterious somewhere and is attempting to force that church’s format onto this body of believers. He is totally micromanaging this service. I had already noticed he weirdly likes to get up while we’re singing and kind of take over, standing in front of the worship leader and singing into his lapel mic, a comical worship leader karaoke. Sir, you’re not drunk enough.
He is one of those good-looking fauxhawked trendy pastors who looks hip and with it, but is actually extremely old fashioned in his belief systems. Annoying. He has a woman assistant who has her office bizarrely floor-to-ceiling decorated as a tropical paradise. Every inch is covered. In our meetings, I feel like I’m drowning in plastic fish in a plastic ocean with a plastic lifeguard who can’t possibly save me because, well, he’s plastic. I can tell from the minute I meet her she is one of those do-too-much-and-be-a-martyr-about-it people, a common church trope, pastoral assistant overly ecstatic to point out how overworked she is. It’s always a woman, and dammit, she will dramatically throw herself under the bus or anything else for you… but has more strings attached than a 17-sail full-rigged model ship. Then there’s the always present oversensitive girl on the worship team, total emotional grenade, pin pulled and ready to go off in a self-pity tirade at any moment.. And suddenly I’m relieved to just be filling in and don’t have to actually deal with any of this shit. Now a different tidal wave of memories easily crashes over the sentimental yellowed photographs of Christmases past I had been fawning over.
Yeah. Now I remember why I didn’t go back.
Oh. The worship leader I thought was so amazing in the first place, who is bizarrely not present on the most prominent Sunday of the entire year? He is awesome, but is himself just filling in, an interim, and I can see exactly why once I’m working closer with the pastor. This pastor has a vision for a specific trendy church format that is popular right now. Pastor McChurch. And this awesome worship leader doesn’t fit the McChurch mold. Pastor McChurch cant see gold when it’s right in front of his face, gleaming riches that will go ignored in favor of The McChurch Mold in which he is forcing this body to conform. He wants the Guy With A Guitar format. I find out months later that he put the $40,000 Baldwin grand piano into storage because it didn’t fit his McChurch model. Did somebody say McChurch?
Nobody does, and he doesn’t last too much longer there as a pastor. I really hope that Baldwin grand made it out of storage.
We have a dress rehearsal, and carry on with Easter Sunday service. I lead. It goes well. I should be excited. I’m buttonholed by members afterward. Am I staying? Will I be leading worship more? Am I becoming a member?
And I just can’t do it. I can’t do this anymore. I’ve lived too much life, I’ve seen behind the curtain. The Great and Powerful Oz….isn’t. I can already sense the walls closing in, my world becoming smaller. I can tell the pastor is going to have me under his thumb, and I’ll be scrambling to make sure I’m doing everything I can to keep him happy. I can tell that the oversensitive girl is going to hate me just as much as my stalker lady from the other church did, and that I am going to live in a fishbowl again, under the constant and judgmental watch of the church people and the clergy. And who knows what Aquarium Lady would do with me?
I even went on a date with Churchdude. I sit next to him at a gospel concert…amazing music, boring company. He’s a great guy, I should be enthralled, but I’m watching paint dry. By the end of the concert, I’m jumping up to run out the door. Ugh.
And suddenly I realize I already have a massive treasure…a gift of freedom, the liberty to do whatever the hell I want with my life.
As the last melody fades from my mind that Easter morning, I have a rebirth of my own.
I like my life.
Wayy more than I did in the church.
BZZT text.
Guy I met online dating. I haven’t heard from him in months…
BZZT another…
Would I like to go out for a drink?
Yes, why, yes sir, I would.
I peel out of the parking lot and drive my life out of church leadership for the last time.
Worship Leader Gone Wild 