Two Months Later

I hadn't realized how much I had missed it.

Last Sunday (8/15) I had an opportunity to play piano for my church.

The last time I had played piano was on Memorial weekend. My "sabbatical" had lasted a little over two months. I didn't have an end date for my sabbatical, and technically, I am still in it. But I wanted to play.

No, I ached to play.

I still do.

After a few key conversations with some close friends of mine, I found that I may have been too hasty in my decision to leave. I was lying to myself, to others, and to God. I was holding back on a part of my heart that ached to express my love for my God. In the two short months that I had quit playing piano, my foolish rebellion in refusing to reveal my truest heart was affecting me in ways that I had not realized. I was easily angered, easily confused, easily distracted, easily saddened.

Freedom to express oneself has its merits. And I realize that expressing love is necessary.

I had been so afraid of expressing love. I am afraid if I offer my heart--even to God--that it would be rejected.

There is no fear in love. But perfect love drives out fear, because fear has to do with punishment. The one who fears is not made perfect in love.

--John, 1 John 4:18

As I have probably mentioned many times before on this blog, I have an unusually high filter. I hold back on so much. And I stopped the one way I freely express myself.

Why would I think that quitting would be a good idea?

Despite my stupidity, I was glad to have the opportunity to play.

I still am.

So I played last Sunday. With all of my heart. And it was wonderful. It was healing. It was nothing more than a small offering of my truest heart to my God to let him know how much I love Him.

And I hope it was enough.

End of a Season

I suppose now I can finally talk about it.

Yesterday (Sunday) was my last Sunday morning as a worship leader at my church. There are many reasons that led up to this decision, and for the most part, I am peace about the end of this season of my life.

However, yesterday morning was rough. Everything was falling apart, nothing was going right, and I was an emotional wreck. I had spent most of my Saturday morning crying over this change, and I was determined not to repeat that in front of everyone on Sunday morning.

For little over a year, I was the worship leader for the 11 am service at my church. No one really knew that was what I did except for the worship team that served with me faithfully week in and week out. As such, for most people, this change in leadership won't seem different. I am stepping down from a role that people didn't know I had. So, if anyone saw me crying on Sunday morning, they wouldn't know why.

This change affects me more than I had realized. I love leading worship. I love putting set lists together. I love rehearsal. I love hanging out with my worship team and discovering how to play a song together.

I am really going to miss this.

This season has come to an end, and I eagerly anticipate to see what will come next; to see what dreams God will unfold before me; to see what desires of my heart will be fulfilled. It is exciting and sad at the same time.

But for the moment, all I can think about is how much I am going to miss this.

I would also like to say thank you to my wonderful worship team. Thank you for staying by me as I clumsily tried to figure out this leadership role. You all are gifted musicians and I am touched by your big hearts and service to God. I look forward to working with all of you again when I return from my "sabbatical."

Thank you to my friends who prayed for me over this day. A special thank you to Elena and Rana for visiting me and making this moment a celebration.

This dream of mine to lead worship is coming to an end. Even if it was for a little while, I am supremely thankful for the time I had been given to try out this dream and see if I could do it. And I hope that the end of this dream would make room for another dream to begin.

Sigh. I really am going to miss this.

Incense Over Coals

I wish I had come up with this phrase, but alas, a better wordsmith than I put that together.

This has been an exhausting week. I had been terrified in many surprising moments this week, but I just pulled through. And I was exhausted. Just to do something different, tonight, I visited the Ballard Campus of Mars Hill with my friend Chifonne. I wasn't expecting anything special to happen...which, sadly, has become the mantra of my life as of late.

I am so thankful that God has better plans for me.

**Sidebar: There were baptisms tonight. It was a moving moment; to watch people to be baptized amid people singing and worshipping God. This is a picture of heaven--of all the saints rejoicing in song and praise as they welcome people to God's family. It was beauty. It was joy. It was why we come together to worship...and I couldn't stop crying. Gloria!

Ok. Back to my story.

There were many things that spoke to me during my visit, but the one I wanted to share in this blog was this:

What have I stopped praying for?

Incense, apparently, was a picture of prayer. When incense rises, it is an illustration of our prayers rising to God. And our prayers are a sweet smell to the Lord God who loves us and sees us.

When did I stop pouring incense over coals?

The story that was shared tonight was of Zechariah and Elizabeth and the announcement of John the Baptizer (Luke 1:5-25). They had prayed for a child for years; but Elizabeth was barren. But...a single moment of tradition was changed when God went beyond expectation and answered a life-long prayer.

There are many things that I've stopped doing--some good, some bad. I've stopped writing. I've stopped blogging. I've stopped taking joy in the small things. I've stopped reading for fun. I've stopped praying for certain things. I've stopped expecting to meet God in the miracles and in the mundane.

It breaks my heart to realize how far I've come from that little girl who never lost hope in the God who loves her and that He will hear her.

Give ear to my words, O LORD, consider my sighing. Listen to my cry for help, my King and my God, for to you I pray. In the morning, O LORD, you hear my voice; in the morning I lay my requests before you and wait in expectation.

--David, Psalm 5:1-3

I will pour incense over coals. I will keep praying. And I will wait in expectation that I will meet God.

Without Thinking

Yes, there are times when I don't think about anything.

These rare moments come when I am playing the piano. I'm not performing, playing with a band, or even worshiping (although I do end up worshiping God at the end of these moments). I'm playing for the sake of playing. And everything that I think, feel, worry, or celebrating comes out from the tips of my fingers and onto the keys. And somehow, the music comes out and it is beautiful.

I don't get to play piano often. Time and resources are limited; and the times when I get to play are squished into a mere few hours when I am playing on the worship team. In the ten years (!) that I have lived in Tacoma and without a piano, I realize that it isn't enough. I have a deep desire to play and it often gets pushed off to the side to make room for other things and responsibilities.

The piano that I learned how to play on is housed at my grandparents'. It may sound sad, but that piano is home to me. Playing piano on that Always-Out-of-Tune Wurlitzer upright has saved me in more ways than I can recall.

I visited my grandparents on Friday. I often opt not to play the piano while I visit, in fear that they will make it into an awkward performance. I used to hate to practice playing piano in front of them mainly because they made my practices into a performance. "Abby, can you play...?"

Grr. Argh.

But I didn't care. I needed to play.

I pulled out the piano bench and lifted the cover. The wood squeaked a bit from not being used in ages. I ran through a few scales, cringing with an odd delight that the same keys were still out of tune, if not more so. The D over the high C produced its familiar tinny sound and the A above middle C still made a grating sound as it scraped against its neighboring keys.

Ah. The sound of home.

I didn't have any music with me, so everything had to come from memory. I played a few worship songs, a handful of hymns. After I had exhausted all I had remembered, I tried to play a few classical songs.

I won't lie--it was rough. And the delight from the first hour of playing had turned into frustration. Then a voice came from the corner of the room:

"Stop thinking. Just play, Abby."

My grandfather, who can't hear very well, had been listening to me pound away at the piano.

Sheepishly, I let my fingers rest on the keys, as I tried to conjure up a song from the recesses of my mind. I took a deep breath and resolved to not think for the next few minutes. I closed my eyes and let my fingers fly over the keys. My fingers seemed to remember more than my mind did. I didn't have to look to see where my hands were--my fingers knew exactly where every key was, remembered how it felt. In fact, I made more mistakes when I opened my eyes or looked at my hands. The songs came out of nowhere, but it was still sweet.

It was better when I wasn't thinking.

It was beauty.

After I was done, I sat in awe. There is so much more to me than I let on. And I wondered what would happen if I did more things without thinking.

Challenge

There was a challenge made at worship team practice last night.

Funny thing is, the challenge came after practice was over for the night and a couple of us were just chatting about how we got into music. (Ok. I was chatting, and people were answering my incessant questions.)

At one point, one of the guitar players brought up one of the first recordings we had done together. I had recently joined the worship team at that time--before all the critiques, orchestrations, and pad sounds started coming into my brain. He said he had been really impressed with how I played back then and wanted to know why I hold back now.

Stupid two notes.

I couldn't give him a straight answer. But what came out revealed my vulnerability and my large insecurity.

I don't think I play very well.

What resulted was a very informal jam session, which exhilarated and frightened me. In the end, the guitar player said he was glad we had this talk. Apparently, it had been brewing underneath for some time.

I was glad, too. It's good to be challenged once in awhile. Even if you fail.

Grace Notes

To keep me from becoming conceited because of these surpassingly great revelations, there was given me a thorn in my flesh, a messenger of Satan, to torment me. Three times I pleaded with the Lord to take it away from me. But he said to me, "My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness." Therefore I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ's power may rest on me.
--Paul, 2nd Corinthians 12:7-9

Its been a rough couple of days. I don't want to get into the details for the sake of privacy, but I did want to share what God has shown me during this time of sudden trial by fire.

For a long time now, I have held onto some anger and bitterness. I didn't realize how much I had until I calculated the time: 13 years. Half of my life had been wasted hating someone that I had given too much power to. It had been so much a part of my life that I didn't have to think about it. You say this person's name and I was suddenly a different person. And it would torment me for weeks.

How does someone become free of all of this? How does someone let go of something that was so second nature?

This past week, I realized just how much I didn't want to become that person any more. I wanted it to be over, to finally sing that final note in this recurring verse. I wanted it to be done.

I always thought that I would have time. It turns out that I couldn't wait forever. I had the chance to extend grace and finally have peace. I had imagined the moment for so long, but the outcome was far different than I had wished; my emotional reaction was completely surprising and unexpected. I suddenly didn't know my lines, didn't know the song, didn't know what to do.

Except cry out to God.

In music, they say that grace notes can make the song sweet. In this case, I agree.

I was reminded that His grace was for all. I was so angry that I wanted to keep withholding it, to keep myself from feeling anything other than anger towards this person. But it was killing me. And it did not please my Heavenly Father.

How does one let something like this go?

I went on believing that I didn't have grace to offer. That what I had to offer was a paltry offering, not worthy of sharing. But it could mean so much. And God uses all things.

So I gave what I could--this small grace offering to the person I was convinced didn't deserve it. Sigh...the wonders of our gracious God.

Amazingly enough, God turned it to something beautiful. Suddenly, I didn't hate this person. I no longer held what he had done against him and I no longer wanted to see him punished. I wanted him to know that even though I did not love him, God does. I wanted rest for him. I wanted peace for him.

May he find it.

And the grace I extended I realized was the grace that had only been given to me by the only Father that I do call my own.

My Daddy. Abba, Father. It has never meant so much to me than it does now. If it is truly over now, I know I only found it through grace.

Enough

This weekend, I attended the Christian Musician Summit. This was my second year, and like most sophomore years, everyone kept comparing it to last year. The concensus was that last year, they felt more bonded because they were in the same car. This year, we had a caravan of a few cars.

I had no comment to share because last year, I drove up seperately. And since I was sick, I didn't have a voice.

Sigh.

Last year, I was feeling a lot of sadness and discouragement from my new role in worship team and my walk with God. I confessed that I was having a hard time with God being enough.

This year, I had an unusual experience. Even after all the madness and chaos and disappointing situations I was in, I felt close to God. I loved that I was getting to know him every day. It is a sweeter song as of late, and I had never had that experience when I'm attending a church function.

Odd, huh?

I thank God that he had taken me to that place of peace in midst of storm, hope despite despair. And may I ever be an overflow of praise for Him.

Losing the "Me" in "Team"

I've been quiet lately, and it mostly has to do with the fact that I am very angry.

This Sunday morning, my worship team was up. As a piano player, you don't get a whole lot of songs where you're not just playing block chords or fills. I usually don't mind because I am part of the team. When I had rejoined the worship team, it was pointed out that sometimes, the best I can offer are the things I don't play in between each note.

Being a classical pianst, this has been a struggle. I'm used to filling every measure with notes, and I had to learn the art of the "rest."

Silence can be golden.

So when I have an opportunity to actually lead a song I get excited. And this week, I had one song all to myself. I don't mean to sound proud, but I was excited to have this opportunity. I get to work on a song and see how I can make it better. The musician in me that I have long ignored craves these moments.

And so I practiced. It reminded me of working on songs over and over again for choir. I poured over the music and listened to it non-stop. I wanted this to be a good offering to the Lord and to offer more than what I had done in the past.

Of course, our practice Sunday morning was rough. And I couldn't hear myself play and see how I matched up with the band. It was to the point where I wondered if I walked off the stage if it would even matter. I felt isolated and ignored. It was heart-breaking. Usually, I don't mind because I'm two-notes-at-a-time-fill-in-girl. But I wanted to hear if my hard work on my one song had paid off. So I didn't mind that I couldn't hear myself during worship.

It isn't about me, after all. Its a team with an audience of One.

Every service, we have a recording. We use these records to listen to our blend and work on what we could do better. I rely on these recordings to become a better musician, to work on the one gift I believe God had given me.

And so I reach the end of the sermon, and nothing. Silence. Nothing. I don't know the reason why, but I'm guessing that it had to do with a timing issue. Plus, its just me. It wouldn't benefit the entire band to hear my one song. They can't learn from it.

With my wounded pride, I destoryed the CD that recorded this horrible Sunday. Of all the horrible things that happened this past week, practicing that song was my highlight and I have nothing to show for it.

I know this isn't true, but I was already feeling like I had nothing to offer. And the fact that my one offering this week was not part of the team CD just offers further proof of my insignificance on this team.

I will probably regret this venting session, but part of me doesn't care. I had hoped to be a good member of this team, and I know this mostly my pride talking. But I have gone this entire week believing there is nothing good in me, except for one single thing...and I have nothing to show for it.

So all that is left to offer is silence.

But that isn't always a bad thing.

F sharp minor, A over C sharp, D

Ok...it’s the end of March and I realize that I have not written a thing.

Which is all right, I suppose, given the huge life change I experienced. (For those not in the know...don’t worry...just because I moved to my own apartment doesn’t change the fact that I’m still secretive)

But my moving isn’t the purpose of this blog.

This past Sunday, we shared the Lord’s supper, and the worship team was asked to play something in the background. We didn’t have anything planned (which isn’t different for us) and we waffled between doing a different song, a couple of hymns and then finally settled on playing the three main chords of the preceding song.

I was fine with it, but what they wanted me to play was a string patch. Which, for all intents and purposes, I don’t mind. I’ve been playing keys for quite some time, and it is nothing like the piano. I add atmosphere, and rarely do I get a chance to play anything melodic. Two notes can add a lot to the song, and I will play those notes with all my heart. Less is more, especially considering that every space has been filled with other instruments.

This isn’t a performance, and I am not doing a solo. I’m finding that many pianists who are classically trained have a hard time playing keyboard in a band.

I’m a team player, so I will play those two notes. And more importantly, it isn’t about me.
But there’s this part of me that feels like I’m holding back. Which, isn’t news to many people, but when I’m behind a piano, its the only place that I feel safe enough to express what was going on in my heart, my life. It’s the way I communicate, even if no one is listening.

So, here’s my confession. During that time of reflection and prayer, I decided the best way I could serve was to play the piano. No atmosphere, no two notes, nothing...just playing what my heart felt like. Sure, it was purely selfish, and I will reap the consequences soon. I wasn’t a team player then, and I feel bad. For like half a second.

After all that I went through these past couple months up to that very morning when the finally assault on my heart came darting toward me, I needed to play the piano. I needed to express what I could not in words and fall in love with music again.

Yeah, there were moments that I had to hold back and remember that I had a whole entire band playing that three chord progression. I could not deviate. I could not move on as much as I wanted to. But I didn’t care. There was form to the music, but there was freedom in it.

And that’s the beauty I longed to express to God, to everyone. In midst of all this craziness, I am still free.

I miss the piano.

Today has been brought to you by...the letters "I" and "N"

This isn't going to be a happy blog.

I don't know why it is, but there are just some people in my life who, through no fault of their own, make me feel very inadequate. They don't have to do anything, but whenever I have to spend prolonged periods of time with them, I feel all my insecurities come out. It's annoying, I know, but I just can't help myself. These people tend to remind me of how untalented I am and I just don't belong in their little club.

Let me be a little bit specific. As of late, I've been loving this musician thing I'm finding in myself again. I haven't really played music in a long time and I keep forgetting that there are people in the place I live that don't even know that I play piano and are surprised when they find out that I do.
I've kept my little "talent" a secret for seven years, and now that it's out, I've been loving every moment of rediscovering my heart beat.

Until tonight.

I don't know why it happens, but it happens every single time. I get to this moment when I know that my happiness bubble is going to burst, and the unwitting bubble burster infiltrates my giddy world by putting doubt into my mind. And when I doubt, I pull back. And when I pull back, I get frustrated because I know better. But I just can't get over that feeling that I can't do this and that maybe I really am not cut out for this.

All because I feel inadequate.

Yes, I'm insecure. This is not a call for an intervention on my insecurities with my identity or my hidden pride issues. I know I've got them. You, Dear Reader, have them too, so I don't think I can take any advice on how to get over it--so don't even try. I am convinced that someday I'll feel like myself and it will be ok. But for the moment, I feel like crawling into a hole and crying because I can't seem to make myself remember that what I have to offer is good enough...

...and more than adequate.

But don't you worry. I'll get over it. I always do. These people are just unwitting players who, for some reason, I give more power over me than I intended. I guess they don't understand that they hurt my feelings so many times before and that we're just beyond repair. And every time we're in the same room, all I can remember is the pain and the fact that I don't measure up to their high standard, as the have pointed out so many times before. But the moment will pass quickly and the little blip in my happy bubble will scar over and life will be good again.

I just can't guarantee that I'll have as much fun.

My Midnight Confession...

...when I tell all the world that I love you...

Yes, its another song stuck in my head. Just go with it.

Second of all...no more midnight blogs.

I recently attended the Christian Musicians Summit this weekend. I didn't know what to expect out of it since this was my first year attending the event and I had only "officially" joined the team two weeks ago. And since I had to work on Friday, I had to drive my by lonesome and missed a whole day of fellowship with people I had wanted to get to know. Believe me, a lot can happen in the car on the way there. That's where people start bonding, and I missed out on it.

You guessed it: Grr. Argh.

I have a tendency to withdraw and isolate during these events and I was starting with two strikes against me. And if you count the fact that I was already heartbroken when I had first joined the team, I suppose one could say I was technically out.

Amazingly enough, despite my broken heart (and without a voice most of the morning), I still encountered God. I still encountered love. I still connected with the awesome group of people that make up the worship team of my church.

Oh yeah...I was confessing something. I don't often go to this place, but if you can bear with me, this is my confession. So if you can't take it, wait until my next blog. I promise to be funny. But tread with caution with what follows: here be spoilers.

For a couple of months now, I felt my heart going under an assault. Everything seemed to break my heart. People, places, circumstances. As soon as I found the shattered pieces and tried to glue it back, another piece would break off. I hate trying to fix it all by myself. Can't someone just take it? Can't someone just hug me at the end of the day and tell me that everything is going to be all right? Can't I encounter someone who will just love me?

All I want is someone to take care of my heart.

Tonight...I finally realized that someone already has. And I struggle with it being enough.

Currently listening : Let The Praises Ring By Lincoln Brewster

My Little Secret(s)

Last weekend, my sister got married. Congratulations, Paul and Jenny! Many blessings on your marriage!! I love you guys.


In midst of the craziness that is my family and the usual stresses that accompany a wedding and the week I took to recover over said wedding, I had completely forgotten the news I had wanted to share.

Earlier this month, I played piano for our worship team. I had no idea how much I had missed playing piano and playing with a team. I had so much fun relating with other musicians and creating music together. And I look forward to when I can play piano again with them. I guess its a secret passion of mine to play music--I had kept it so close to my heart for so long that I think that not many people know how much I love playing piano.

But I guess the bigger secret is that I used to sing. I guess a more accurate statement is that I secretly love singing and wish I could be better at it (sigh...as much as I deny it, practice DOES make perfect). I sang only one song on one chorus (which is more than I had planned on risking) and I hoped that it sounded all right. Playing piano comes more naturally to me than singing. Piano is a gift, singing is a risk. And even if I never get asked to sing again, I'm fine with it. I've done it once, and I'm proud. In fact, I think that it was number 6 on my Top 22 List of things I wanted to do.

Yes, I'm happy. I think I even scared one of my co-workers who took a double take and asked me: "Are you happy?"

Yes, I'm happy. Life still isn't perfect, and there are some things that are constantly sending my mind in a whirl. Sadly, just because I'm happy doesn't mean that my mind hasn't stopped processing. Shoot, dang.

Yes, I'm happy. Don't tell anyone. It's our little secret.

Currently watching : Sports Night - The Complete Series Boxed Set

Sigh...

Sigh. I inherited a keyboard from my cousin. (THANK YOU SO MUCH!) Although I was trained on a real piano, I will not complain. I miss playing so much that I don't care now. I love this keyboard. I've played for two days straight since I got it and I feel SO much better.

Ok. I'm done. Leave me to my bliss.

Currently watching : Sports Night - The Complete Series Boxed Set

In the end, He saves me

O my words cannot tell, not even in part, of the debt of love that is owed by this thankful heart.

Thankful. I am thankful. God saves me. He gave me a job at World Vision. But moreover, He gave me friends and family who love me and want more for me than I could ever ask for myself.

I cannot begin to express the gratitude and love I have for my friends and family. I am nothing without you.

God gave me a job, but first, he gave me family.

Toes to the Line, Fist in the Air

God. Please help me. Save me. Please.

God, You are beyond my circumstances. You are above my current situation. But this is my confession. I HATE this. I hate, hate, HATE my current situation. My enemies are fully against me and it's documented for all to see. They have declared war. They want me out...or as one of them said: "Step up or step out." They told me that I am hurting the team, the store, the district. And as they began to tally in all the way I have failed, I kept thinking about how much I don't care. I don't care about this identity, this salesperson that they want me to be.

I would hate my enemies if I didn't agree with them.

I want to leave. I want to be saved from this current situation. I don't belong in this place; this horrible, unsupportive, unfulfilling job. Next Tuesday, instead of offering this forced plan for driving sales, I want to tell them that I'm putting my two weeks notice because God has found a better place for me.

I want to quit. But I can't. My spirit and my heart fail me. All I have left is You, Lord. You are my hope. But I'm dying here. I'm finding it hard to find the faith to keep going when everyone is expecting me to fail.

Please save me, God. Save me. Like you did at St. Stephen's. Like you did at Parkland. Like you did every night when my family didn't know what to do. Save me. I so desperately need you Lord.

I am in a den of lions. A fiery furnace. Pharaoh is behind me. They want my head on a platter...and I'm losing the fight. I fear that I may end up wanting to give it to them. But I can't. I am not a salesperson. I am not a servant of coffee.

I am a servant of Jesus. I am the Lord God's daughter. I am a child of of Father God. I am Christ's bride. I am filled with the Spirit of the Lord and I am here to proclaim His love to the world.

You are my voice in the wilderness. You are the light of the world. You are a big God and you are bigger than this situation. You are my Friend. You are my lover. You are my husband. You are the one who sees me. You are my help. You are I AM and there is no other. You are my hope in a place where I have no hope.

Oh Jesus, my Savior. I humbly ask that you may hide me from my enemies and protect my heart. They may hate me...but your unfailing love is better than life. May I hold to that as I hold unswervingly to the hope that you will bring me to a safe place.

God. Please. I cannot do this alone.