That Time We Murdered the Little Drummer Boy

Let me clarify that we murdered the song Little Drummer Boy, and not an actual small child that plays a drum. That would be beyond awkward. That would be a felony.

No, I'm talking about my most botched attempt at playing a song in front of an audience, of which there are many.

It was a dark, cold December night in Wisconsin (shocking), and I was leading worship at Crosspoint Community Church in Oconomowoc. This particular worship set was a challenge. We had planned a 5 songs set, but one of the songs was actually a medley of 3 Christmas carols. Just because it's a medley and you're only playing one verse and chorus of the song, you're still basically learning the song. On top of the medley, we were also doing the Jars of Clay version of the Little Drummer Boy, which has a funky, syncopated rhythm happening. Very cool, but a little tricky and very unlike the standard version we've all heard a million times.

A few minutes before the service, I was chatting with the senior pastor, Terry about how the rehearsal went, the transitions, the amount of material there was that week, typical Christmas work load ramp up, etc. He said something to the effect of I hadn't had any major screw-ups that year, so I had a mulligan coming. Thanks. I think.

We started the service with the medley, which I considered the most challenging part of the set - three embedded songs with transitions. I think it was Holly Jolly Christmas, Jingle Bell Rock and some other hokey, Burl Ives type deal. Anyway, smooth sailing. That was followed by a worship song. Odds are 3:1 it was by Chris Tomlin.

Then the real fun started.

The drummer started the click track for Little Drummer Boy and then began playing his beat. Unfortunately, I didn't recognize it. I tried to focus on what he was playing, but it didn't even seem like his beat was following the click. "This could be a problem," I remarked to myself. Or maybe I said "oh crap." Hard to remember. I tried to fall in line on guitar, but I could not find the rhythm. I stopped playing and stopped the drummer.

I asked the drummer to try again with similar results. It was around this time I started hearing comments from the back of the room. Good times. Turns out it was the senior pastor heckling me about not having a screw up yet. Yes, hilarious. At least the congregation was in a good mood about it.

At this point I was just a bit flustered. I tried attempt number three without drums. I still could not find it. I was hearing the standard version melody and rhythm in my head, which only made things worse. However, despite my anxiety level spiking you could sense the audience pulling for us. Then someone else in the band gave it a shot. Nothing. Still more laughing and smiling and a supportive energy in the room. I can't remember how many restarts there were in what felt like seven and a half hours standing there trying get the train rolling again.

Eventually I remembered a 3 note riff in the verse that brought me back. I started the song on my own and got through verse one, line one. The crowd went wild. Okay, not wild, but they cheered and you could tell they were still rooting for us. The rest of the band fell in and we made it through the song. It was a little clunky. It didn't matter. There was much rejoicing by the band, the crew and the congregation. And the senior pastor.

A few things I took away from that night...

One, be careful about working at or over capacity. Especially in a ministry position at the busiest time of the year.

Two, no matter how bad the train wreck is, church is gonna happen. I've participated in services where the drummer had to cancel at the last second, where a singer lost her voice minutes before service, where we lost power and had to set up in the lobby with no PA system. I can be prepared for lots of things, but not everything. Trust God that it'll work out.

Three, my church family is family. And they love and support me even when it all falls apart. Maybe especially then. And because of that, what felt like a total disaster as it was happening ended up being a unique, funny, touching moment we all shared together. Pretty awesome.

Merry Christmas, all!! And if you'd like to check out Jars of Clay doing their version and not murdering it, here you go!

https://youtu.be/Mb0hAPimGrU

Harold and Emma

I'll start this off with a disclaimer. This post is not specific to leading worship or church production. I think it's a pretty good story though.

A few Fridays ago I took my daughters to the airport so they could fly home to visit family. After getting through the terminal very easily, we had some time to kill and went to look for some chairs near the gate. Emma (12) was the first to approach the row of seats, where there were about half a dozen empty ones next to an older black dude who was probably in his mid-sixties. Before we even get our butts down, Emma says "what brings you to Wisconsin", which is where my girls were heading, but confusing since we were in Phoenix, but that's kind of how Emma rolls.

Frankly, I was surprised, because I usually think of Emma as having trouble with social skills, but I may have to reconsider.  Emma sat down next to Harold and I was on the other side of her. Harold smiled and informed Emma he was flying to Indiana. Millie (11) was glued to her phone.

Harold and Emma started to have a conversation about Indiana and Milwaukee and cold and snow and family and the desert and mountains and rattlesnakes and scorpions and mosquitoes. It was pretty awesome.

I joined the conversation the way most introverts that want to be polite do - reluctantly. Over the next half hour or so, I learned that Harold worked for the railroad for 40 years. Harold lost his wife in 2013. He retired in 2009 and has been visiting Phoenix regularly since. He has a girlfriend who doesn't want to live in Arizona. He has a daughter and a son that live in Phoenix. His daughter works for a bank and worked for Fresh and Good Foods until they recently went bankrupt. Harold loves Phoenix, but since his girlfriend Theresa doesn't, he probably won't be moving anytime soon.  Friends told him that he would hate Los Angeles if he ever visited, but he visited and didn't hate it. Harold believes in God. He brought it up several times. Especially when he told me how his son died in 1992 in a motorcycle accident and that he visits his grave several times a week. I shared with him how I lost my wife to cancer in 2009 and that I raise my girls on my own with help from friends and family. We both fought back some tears telling and listening to our stories.

When it was time for my girls to get in line to get on the plane (which is when my blood pressure instantly jumps over 200 for those of you keeping score at home) Harold shook my hand and gave Emma a big hug. Millie was still on her phone. It's okay. She has plenty of her own moments.

I walked my girls to the jetway without any meltdowns. Them or me. Then I stared out a giant glass wall waiting for the plane to inch backward. Harold came over to ask how I wasn't balling right then. I told him hiding it was a learned skill.

After the plane took off and I watched it turn into a tiny dot blotted out by the sun, I started to head out, but not before I walked over to shake Harold's hand one more time. He gave me a hug instead.

I walked back to the parking lot thinking about what had happened. Because Emma struck up a conversation and I was open to it, I ended up connecting with another human being and it was pretty amazing. How many times have I shut down that opportunity because "I'm an introvert" or because there are other things on my mind or because my fantasy football lineup needs another adjustment?

It was a good reminder from Harold and Emma to be open to those connections.