by Brenda Burnett

Bow down your ear, O Lord,
and answer me.
Watch over my life.
Be merciful to me, You are my God.

In my mind, the words to this song are accompanied by both a lovely melody and an image: the choir as a praying community. This is the song we sang in a circle around our friend and sister, Jane Gunningham, as she set off to live and work in Africa. But praying together is something the choir does every week, not just on such special occasions. That focus on prayer is one thing that keeps people in the choir year after year. And of course, there’s the music!

Why do people join the choir and then stay for years? Both long-timers and newer members gave similar reasons for participating: love for God and for music in worship; a desire to serve; having a part in something larger than ourselves. As one member put it, “This is something I can do for this body of believers to encourage them in their faith, and I hope that is what we do.”

We all love seeing the faces of the congregation, the children as they come up for their sermon, and the beautiful stained-glass window over the back of the church. And (of course) we love our guaranteed seats for Easter and Christmas services.

Wednesday night choir practice takes place every week, fall through spring. Our practices are more than just practice—they are times of mid-week renewal. I admit that often, by Wednesday, God is already pushed to the margins of my attention. Sunday’s message of who God is gets crowded out by the noise of a busy life. By 7:00 pm, it’s already been a long day, and the yawning has started.

At about 7:05 pm, we stretch, breathe deeply, and warm up our voices. Chit-chat, a little teasing, and laughter ripple through the group. Gary leads us in prayer. We stand and sing, sit and sing for a while, work on some tricky spots in the music, stand and sing again.

Gary stops us and encourages us to listen as well as sing: For You, O Lord, are good. Forgiving. And great is Your love. Be merciful to me. You are my God. At the end of the evening, we pray for each other. As I leave, I feel like a peaceful space has opened inside, and for days it’s filled with a sweet, prayerful song.

On those Sunday mornings when we are part of the service, we gather early to practice. Sometimes we feel good about the way we sound, and other times we know we’re a little ragged. Gary reminds us that our purpose is worship, not performance.

When the time comes for us to stand and sing, something interesting happens. We’ve seen it over and over: in the worshipping congregation, our music is more than the sum of our rehearsals. God takes our heart-given songs and fills them with His own breath.

(Psalm 86 adaptation by A.D. Miller)