Every Wednesday night I head over to the good ole church of the Naz. I walk down my little hall into the cold classroom. Take my seat at the table. Watch Beth Moore talk to us about Daniel or Revelation or whatever study we might be in at the time. BUT I listen to the music. I listen to the people upstairs playing, singing, stomping. I worship with them. Sure I hear what Beth is saying most of the time. But the rest of the time I am tapping my foot, singing in my head, worshiping my Jesus.
Its like my own private worship service.
I have my sermon. My worship music. I even have the urge sometimes to get out of my chair, walk down the hall and up the stairs and through the door and kneel at the altar. I have the urge but I never do it. I fear I may get some crazy stares. Or that they might stop playing.
The crazy thing is the people upstairs are practicing. Sometimes I only hear one song stop and start and stop and start during that whole hour. But that is okay. That is what I needed. That is what I wanted. Usually it is a song that I LOVE. Long after they stop playing and singing and stomping. Long after I leave the building. I still hear it. I still sing it in my head.
So I am glad that they are practicing above me. I am glad that they are loud. I am glad they dont get it on the first try. I am glad that they are there every Wednesday.
They add so much to my night. They are what I look forward to. They are worshiping with me and dont even know it.
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