There’s a beautiful and terrible thing happening tomorrow.  It’s called graduation. 

It’s beautiful because when a chapter closes of any good book, we should run to the next with joy and expectation.  It’s terrible because a lot of my friends are leaving. 

Leaving is terrible.  Most of us don’t do it well.  Usually, when leaving’s on the horizon, we retreat from relationships instead of pressing into them. 

Sometimes I don’t feel it.  The music.  The Spirit.  The point.  The promise.  Any of it. 

Some weeks, if I were in the crowd, I’d probably sit down and not sing at all.  Or I’d go get coffee in the lobby or take a long time washing my hands in the bathroom. 

Sometimes I walk on stage empty.  I move my mouth to the microphone knowing for the next few songs my body will put forth motion and melody that my mind is not mesmerized by. 

Worship leader, you are responsible; when the sound guy doesn’t un-mute the mic,
when the slides don’t show up when the words are being sung; worship leader you are responsible. 

I tell our sound guy he is in the band. 

I tell our Pro Presenter guy he is in the band.

Because they are. 

My sister called at 6:13a.m. 

We all hate this phone call. 

“Josh, Grandpaw’s in a comma.  They are life-flighting him to San Antonio.  The doctors lost him twice this morning.  He’s on a ventilator, he can’t breathe on his own.” 

I called my mom.  She was with my Grandma and Aunt at the hospital. 

Three years ago I opened a blank document and started typing.  I had no idea what was going to come out of me.  My favorite singer/songwriter Rich Mullins once told his bandmates after playing them a new song, “All these words are in me, it’s just whether or not I have the guts to pull them out.”  It took years of guts to get out these words. 

Sometimes I wonder why the God of the universe chose to make being fully immersed in a pool of water His command for the new follower of Jesus to take part in.  Then I sit in the crowd and watch as our Pastor stands in a hot tub and dunks people and I realize the answer is simple:  We need pictures.  And somehow, in the mystery of God, getting all wet in front of your friends and family is a picture of being born again.

Your church has a vision.  Most likely even a mission statement.  If your church is serving the mission and vision well then you most likely have this phrase or sentence memorized. 

But what about the gathering you lead?  Do you have a mission statement?  Do you have vision for your team and purpose for your part in leading?  If right now I walked up to your drummer and asked him the mission of your worship band would he have something to say? 

It’s more important than we realize. 

My friend Drew knows a lot of Christian famous people.  Some would say, he himself is one.  Anyhow, last weekend Drew was doing an event with some Christian famous people and he got a bit of advice from a worship pastor who I greatly respect that he passed on to me. 

The guy’s name was Aaron Keys.  And rightly enough, he plays keys. 

Our church is made out of shipwrecks.  That’s what we told Resonate last night. 

Depravity is no easy topic.  Something about being told you’re dead doesn’t sit well with the alleged living.  The truly living love a good reminder of the bad news.  Something in the believer stirs at the recalling of their resuscitation. 

The truth is, God knows, we think we are a lot better better than we really are.  We think we are good people, living good lives, and God got lucky when we joined his team.  Not all of think this way all of the time, but some of us do, sometimes anyway, if we’re honest. 

It’s hard being honest in church.  Especially hard if you think church is a for saints not shipwrecks. 

This is my neighbor Sue.  She lives alone.  She has a big driveway.  The sky has been dropping big snow on Sue’s big driveway. 

Today as I was walking around outside taking pictures of the snow, I came off my front porch and I could hear talking. Just over the mounds of snow I could see the tops of two peoples head. 

It was Sue and Ashley (the young lady who lives in Amy and I’s downstairs apartment).  They were shoveling Sue’s big driveway and talking and laughing.