Oh yeah, I remember Hymns

I grew up in a very, very, very Southern Baptist church. We had the organ, the piano, and the choir...that was it. There were no guitars or drum sets. There were no light shows or drama teams. We sang from the hymnals and that was all. You'd get a funny look if you were even swaying to the music. I'm not kidding. "Conservative" doesn't even begin to explain it. When I went to college, my friend Julie exposed me to the wonders of praise music. To my surprise, you could play a guitar in church. I never knew...Music has always been a huge part of my life but I never felt any real connection to the music that I heard in church. It was always separate from the music that I actually enjoyed listening to. Stepping foot into a church where the music was fun and upbeat allowed me to open up in a way that I had never thought possible. I became a praise music junkie buying and burning (this was in the days before iTunes) as much music as possible. For the next few years, I wouldn't set foot in a church that didn't have at least 6 people in their band, and if I saw a hymnal in the pew, I wouldn't be returning the next Sunday. Yeah, I was a snob and I was completely missing the point behind each and every one of these songs that I was obsessed with. I caught myself not even paying attention to what the pastor was saying and I'd usually end up leaving the service early. I was only there for the music and I don't think I was actually hearing the meaning behind the words.
Well, I continued along this path for a few years, but then things changed. I was in a service where the band started playing an old hymn. I think it was Just As I Am or something similar to that. It was as that moment that I just felt this sense of joy wash completely over me. All of these wonderful memories from my childhood just rushed all over me and, yes, it was a warm fuzzy moment. I was at a point where God wasn't really playing a big part in my life and if I went to church, it was only out of a sense of obligation. I wasn't getting anything out of it, or better yet, I wasn't allowing myself to get anything out of it. I know this sounds corny and like a giant cliche, but I felt like my heart just opened up and joy poured in. I felt a huge sense of peace. It was the oddest thing. I'm not saying that it was a hymn that changed my whole outlook, but I think that it was at that moment that I actually started to listen to the words of songs. From this point on, I listened to the words and I began to notice that a lot of praise music is just bad. The writers' hearts were in the right place but singing 7 words 32 times isn't really what I call good musical form. I like songs that have a message. I finally came to understand that the music that one hears in church isn't supposed to replace the pastor's message but to support it and prepare us to hear what is being taught. When I visited my family over Christmas, I went to church with my grandmother, and for I think the first time in my life, I actually got something out of a Southern Baptist sermon. I enjoyed every second of the service. I loved the organ, the piano, the hymns, and the tone deaf music director. The pastor gave an excellent message and I left that church with questions (I think the best sermons leave you with unanswered questions and a deep desire to answer them). For the first time in I don't know how long, I left a Baptist church with a smile on my face. You better believe that I won't tell my dad because I just hate when he's right about something...especially something that we've had many long and heated debates about. Do you know how hard it is for me to admit that my parents might actually know what they're talking about? Yeah, I'm sure you do.

I heard How Marvelous in church this morning that that's what prompted this post. I'm done now. Live long and prosper or whatever.