The family that sings together
stays together. Isn't that how the old saying goes? I have sang my entire life.
I really didn't have a choice to be honest with you. When my parents discovered
that I could sing I was immediately shoved up on stage. I hated it. It even
bothered me more that I was somewhat good at it. Singing was not for me. Sports
were my forte' and Singing was for girls. At around age 10 I realized that
girls loved boys who could sing. ANNNNDDDDDD I'm in.
Music is something that is in my
family's DNA. My Great Grandfather was a world class fiddler. He and his
children all played instruments. Guitar, mandolin, fiddle, bass, and banjo. My
family hails from the rolling hills of southern Ohio and the mountains of West
Virginia so bluegrass and gospel, as well as the traditional folk tunes of the
day is what they played. If hillbilly's had a VonTrap family, they were it, and
nothing makes me more proud to be a part of that heritage.
Before they came to Christ, they
would play at Barn Dances and local events. Barn Dances in that day could
sometimes go on for several days. Moonshine was often present, and it was a way
for the "wayward sinners, and backslidden Christian" to have carnal
fun. It was at one of these barn dances that my Grandfather, Robert Grate, found
Jesus. On a hot and humid summer night after playing a set, he wandered outside
and heard music coming from Fairplay Chapel. Fairplay is a small one room
tabernacle used for church services, Revivals, and Christian concerts. Grandpa
wandered over there out of pure curiosity, and when the preacher finished his
hellfire and brimstone sermon, my Grandfather, in tears, went forward.
Upon returning to his gig, he
announced that was no longer going to play at barn dances, but Great Grandpa
asked if he would stay and play the next night to finish off the contract.
Grandpa agreed. God disagreed. That night a thunderstorm blew in and rain
ruined all of their instruments. A few hours later, they were all at Fairplay
Chapel, and an entire family of musicians found Christ. From that point
forward, they would use their gifts to glorify God. They became worship
leaders. Reads like a movie script right? I mean seriously? Wow.
This gift was passed to my
father. He was and is a gifted singer. For my entire childhood he was our
church's worship leader and my aunt, Marla Grate Chambers
was
the piano player. As a small child, I always watched my dad. At the time, the
tears that flowed, the hands that were raised, the testimonies that would
follow, didn't make much sense to me in a deep theological way, yet something
happened in my heart that I couldn't quite explain. Looking back I now see that
it was the Holy Spirit working in my heart. Sunday evenings were always a tad
nerve racking. Sometimes they would just call you up front and ask you to sing.
This is where the stage fright would come in. Are you kidding me? Dad would
look over say his famous phrase that he thought was so wise. "Just wing
it". For those of you who are MBC Loudoun attenders, you just got a major
insight into why I am the way I am and why I think fast on my feet. I was
taught how to "wing it" at a very early age.
smile emoticon
I was always terrified in those
moments, and stage fright would often grip me, but then I would remember, that
girls like boys that can sing....
wink emoticon
In hindsight, it was my father
who taught me how to worship.
Now that gift is with me and my
family and we are making music together almost weekly. It is one of the greatest
joys of my life to worship with my family in a tradition that is generational.
Emmy is excelling on piano, Elijah is strumming his guitar, Zeke is learning
every Coldplay song he can on the keyboard, and Holly is, well, Holly:) I don't
have adequate words to describe her talents and gifts.
This all comes together for me in
an experience I had with my precious Emmy in 2004. She was three years old and
we were at my parents for Christmas. On a cold and blustery Friday night Holly
asked me if I would give Emmy her bath and get her into bed. I poured her a
bath, retrieved her favorite rubber ducky and sat next to her on the floor.
Next to me was a CD player and I popped in Shane and Shane's latest song that
had had been bootlegged from a concert. The song 'Yearn" came on and what
happened next has only happened a handful of times in my life. I was
overwhelmed. Totally and completely overwhelmed. Tears began to fall down my
cheeks as I celebrated the gift of my daughter, rejoiced over the blessing of my
sweet Elijah, and my pregnant wife, carrying our yet to be born firecracker
Zeke. I rose to my feet! My hands went skyward and I praised. With everything
in my being, I praised. I sang as loud as I could. At that moment, everything
was clear. I seized the moment.
When the song was almost done and
music began to fade, I looked over at my daughter whom I had completely
forgotten about. She was standing, eyes closed, with her arms raised up to the
sky. She was worshiping. She had begun the process of investing in a
generational tradition that had been passed down through the decades. When she
noticed that I was no longer singing, and the music died down, she peeked out
of one eye, laughed, and went right back to the wind up rubber duck...
Psalm 145:4
One generation commends your
works to another; they tell of your mighty acts.
In other words,
Your children
will learn how to worship by watching you worship.
Your children will learn how to
love, by watching you love.
Your children will learn how to
live, by watching you live.
Your children will learn to study
the Word of God, by watching you Study.
It is a great question I suppose.
When our children observe us, do their arms go up or down? Even today, whenever
I get to witness or find myself stuck in a thunderstorm, I remember the
courageous act of my grandfather, and the tradition of worship he started by
walking an isle, kneeling at an altar, and surrendering all.
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