I’m at a retreat in Estes Park leading worship for 60 screaming fifth and sixth graders.  We sing “What a mighty God we Serve” and “There is no one like you” at the top of our lungs.  It’s fantastic.  Drop your pride and come to Scene56.  See what you must become like to enter the kingdom of Heaven.

 

I broke a string about an hour ago as I sat on the stage and sang “There has never been anyone like you, there is no one like you there has never been anyone like you, There Is NO ONE LIKE OUR GOD…..yea.”   In the happy silence after the song, some little girl kindly says to me out loud, “Your guitar is broken…” .  So I smile and rend the string from its peg, making her laugh.  I then sat outside under the falling snow while the children’s pastor talked about other world religions of no value, and changed my broken G-string (oh ha funny).  

 

Its a funny thing, kids.  I was so sure that this weekend I agreed to leading would test my limits and make a better servant out of me.  I have no patience for chaos you see (some drummer I am), and game after disorderly all-inclusive designed-for-eleven-year-olds relay game should put me at my whit’s end.

 

But as I replaced a Phosphor-Bronze .026 guitar string with the closet diameter backup (a tragic .017), I was overcome with a feeling very opposite of being at your whit’s end.  It felt a lot like hearing and smelling rain in the morning from your warm bed with hours to sleep before you have to go anywhere, if that means anything.  See I am allowed the privilege of leading worship in His house, and it’s good to me.  I don’t have anything profound to say on the matter.  Just I’m very happy doing it.

 

I couldn’t care less if  was fifty twelve year olds or fifty thousand twenty-somethings.  Where I am is where I am and we sing the same things at the same time.  If God hears from heaven and he smiles and he likes it, I’m who I want to be.  

I’ll say it again.  I’m already who I want to be in Christ Jesus.  

 

There is no one like our Godddddddd, yeah.