This morning on the way to work I was going full-out concert mode with the radio. I was hitting the high notes, I was hitting the low notes, and I was hitting all the choreographed jazz hands parts. It was a performance for the ages.
You should be so happy you didn’t have to hear it.
Seriously, I have an amazingly bad voice.
For the longest time, this bothered me. I used to sing softly at church, some might even call it whisper-singing. I wanted to let loose, but the fear of people actually hearing my voice kept me quiet.
In middle school my friend Jessica told me that she actually never sang in choir and especially not at our concerts. She lip-synched everything because she hated singing. The only thing she hated more than singing was band and orchestra, hence the choir elective. I took this revelation as my saving grace and lip-synched my way through seventh and eighth grade.
You know what is absolutely terror-inducing for people with bad voices? Singing a capella. I need some guitars, a piano, and preferably three sets of drums to drown out my singing. Take away all the music and just let a bunch of people or, GOD FORBID, just a few people sing? I will take a fake bathroom break quicker than you can get to the chorus.
A sweet girl in my youth group once told me that she thought it was weird she could never hear me singing when she sat by me. I just smiled innocently, but in my head I was thinking, MISSION ACCOMPLISHED.
Singing is not my forte. I’m not exactly sure what my forte is at this point, but I’m hoping to narrow it down soon.
This morning as I pulled into the school parking lot basking in the glow of my rock star performance, I go to thinking about what God hears when I sing. Does he hear the tone-deafness that he blessed me with? Does he notice that at some points in the song, I’m not actually singing but yelling? Does he cringe like those seated around me at church do sometimes?
That guy loves my voice, which makes me giggle a little to think about. He doesn’t care that I’m off by a beat and my voice keeps cracking. He doesn’t care that I don’t know the majority of the words and make up my own (BETTER) ones to most songs on the radio. He just likes that I’m singing. And he really likes it when I’m singing to him. I imagine he’s got this amazing dad-filter that can auto-tune my voice to make it sound like an angel. I bet I sound amazing to Jesus as I’m singing his praise. He’s just sitting back and delighting in my worship. Like when your kids make you pictures and they’re absolute crap but you love them because they did their best and you’re just happy that they thought of you.
That’s how God feels when we worship him.
So sing. Sing loud. Sing badly. Sing off-key. Or sing amazingly, if you can. I’m totally not jealous of you.
No matter how you sing, I won’t notice, I promise. I’m way too busy giving car concerts to pay attention to your voice, but God hears you and he loves it.
So today? Let’s sing.