Today we went to church with my grandma. As a matter of fact, this was probably the first time since I was in High School that my parents, my sister and I have been in church together. My grandma goes to a traditional Baptist church. The very same church I attended as a teenager. Aside from a new gymnasium and some building upgrades, nothing has changed. They do however have a “contemporary” early service. I’m not blogging about my judgemental point of view on the service; I’m blogging about one individual I observed in the service.
I didn’t even notice him until we started singing. We were singing some old hymns that I seemed to remember vaguely. I heard him singing loudly behind me. Not annoyingly loud but loud. He started to sing the wrong words and didn’t stop. He was just singing proudly and enjoying every minute of it. You just knew by hearing him that this was one of his favorite things about the week. This young man had Down Syndrome. I wish I could sing like that. I wish I could behave in a manner that showed others that I just didn’t care about their approval. I wish our churches provided atmospheres where children grew up encouraging each other to worship, serve, live in a way that honored God alone. It was wonderful to hear someone singing not to be heard. It was great to hear the “noise” that God asks us for. It was an honor to hear a true worshipper.
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