For the past two years I have been involved in a process toward being a Commissioned Minister of the United Church of Christ, through music. In October 2016, I present my commissioning paper to the Committee on Ministry of the Central Association of the Massachusetts Conference of the UCC, as I continue the final steps of the journey. This is a the paper I have submitted to the committee.
Part One: Theological Perspective
I sometimes fantasize about having a born-again, “I saw the light” origin story to accompany my faith. One of my guilty pleasures is listening to Southern Gospel music where every lyric seems to telegraph some tale of abject wretchedness leading to redemption. But in my case, there is no such story to tell. I’ve been a practicing Christian my entire life, even during those youthful periods when straying was a natural instinct for many friends and family. My path has wound through exploring several denominations (as Part Three shows), but my belief in Jesus Christ as the foundational rock for my faith has never wavered. Spiritual exploration has never taken me away from him.
As one who is both a practicing Christian and a practicing choral scholar, the majority of my exposure to Biblical analysis and deeper textual study have been through the lens of their setting composers, and not my own. To this day, there are countless passages which I cannot read without my mind accompanying my reading, via Handel, Hassler, Bach, Mendelssohn, and the like, often in languages not my own. I come to a deeper understanding of my faith through the melodies that these composers were inspired to craft. Symbolism, numerology, and metaphor can all be found if you dig deeply enough into the interpretations of the finest composers, and my goal is, as often as possible, to find a deeper connection to God, using these analysts as my guides.
An opera character’s entire being can be expressed through the combination of a few short lines of text and the emotional music that they are feeling at the time. A seventeen-syllable haiku can be transformed into a moderately-sized art song. Even one word like “Alleluia” can be treated by the hands of a master like Randall Thompson in endless ways to create one of our finest choral pieces, which utters that word for nearly ten minutes, without becoming bland. In that way, music is a powerful summary tool.
Perhaps because I work so frequently with these distilled settings of larger texts, I have become a person who looks for similarities as a way to simplify larger, more difficult concepts. In that regard, kindness is a recurrent theme which permeates many Biblical passages, if you’re attuned to it. It seems to me that the majority of Christ’s behavioral suggestions focus at least in part on doing what’s right through following him. I recently came across a list of nearly fifty commandments that he laid out during his ministry: Repent, follow me, keep your word, love your enemies, and so on.
During this discernment process, I’ve been attentive to what elements are shared between different denominations. As such, I couldn’t help but examine these forty-nine commandments to search for a pattern. When confronted in Matthew 22, Jesus states that the entire Jewish law “hangs” on two simple commandments: “Love the Lord your God with all your heart…” and “Love your neighbor as yourself” (NRSV). This is Jesus at his most and least complex. When the entire Bible is reduced to these two declarations, there can be little excuse to fall from the path.
[In August 2016 I preached on the ways in which Jesus is quoted separately in Matthew 22:39 and John 13:34, and what it can mean for our relationships today]
And that is what comes to mind every time I hear the archetype of Anglican Church music, Thomas Tallis’ “If Ye Love Me” which, quoting John 14:15-17, assures me that if I love God and my neighbor, the comforter (the Holy Spirit) will be with me always. This, in turn, allows me to go into the world and be kind to even more people. In my high school yearbook, while other students quoted popular song lyrics and movie citations, my profile presented two statements, both of which confirm for me today that I was on the road to my current self before I was even considered an adult. The first, Mozart’s, states “I pay no attention whatever to anyone’s praise or blame, I simply follow my own feeling.” At seventeen years old, it is not “cool” to go to church every week, sing in a choir, and aspire to be a classical musician. That didn’t bother me. The second quote, my own, declared my intention to spend every day trying to make those around me laugh. Trivial, it may seem, but laughter has been the bedrock of my relationships ever since. When (in a world fraught with broken marriages) we are asked “how do you do it?” of our fifteen-years together, my wife and I reference the fact that we found a partner who made us laugh, and who has continued to do so. Looking back on that yearbook, there’s documentary proof that for at least two decades I have been crafting inroads from “acquaintance” to “friend” through laughter, strengthened by that same Holy Spirit, who, through a reminder from the German composer 220 years my senior, has allowed me to follow my own path, in spite of the reputation it may have given me at times. Just one of the many occasions in which God has spoken to me through my hero, Mozart.
During this discernment process, I have noticed in myself a greater confidence to proudly state my faith outside of the walls of my “sanctuary” (accurate with both of its definitions).
This New Commandment is, for me, a complement to our Golden Rule (Matthew 7 and Luke 6), “Do unto others, as you would have them do unto you”, and serves as yet another simplification of the entire faith. For a decade, I have worked by day at Boston University’s business school, for most of those years as the “School of Management (SMG)”, “affectionately” satirized as “Sex, Money, Greed”. It wasn’t until a few years ago, when a naming donation christened us the Questrom School of Business, and with it a renewed interest in post-2008 business ethics, that I learned of our “creed”, established 100 years earlier by our founding dean who used the Golden Rule as one of the tenets of business teaching. It was anticipated that the hanging of the Golden Rule in each classroom would make more than a few administrators and professors uncomfortable, in spite of our university’s strong background as a United Methodist school, but it was important to our Dean, himself an erstwhile church organist. Fortunately, it seems, people have accepted its posting without contest, understanding that the Golden Rule concept has been a backbone of religions and movements the world over for centuries.
A second precept of my theological perspective is the belief that all are welcome, and that God’s justice applies to all of us.
I value Christ’s assurance that “where two or three are gathered” he will be there too. And, as I always think in musical terms, this quote cannot enter my mind without Harold Friedell’s musical setting, which artfully juxtaposes measures of two and three beats, seemingly at first with no reasoning, until you examine the text.
For me, music and scripture are inseparably linked. Many of the Bible verses that I know by heart are through their connection to an anthem or oratorio. And I always try to dig deeply, as in the Friedell example, to discover the hidden messages that may be uncovered when we take the time to study the musical setting as deeply as a rabbi or monk would study their text-only Bible.
In June 2015, I was told at my first meeting with the Committee on Ministry of the Central Association of the Massachusetts Conference of the UCC that a church musician, in some ways, knows more scripture by heart than many pastors and theologians. Science shows that texts are more “sticky” when accompanied by music, and through repetition. My choristers frequently tell me on Thursday that Sunday’s anthem has been a weeklong earworm.
We all bring different interpretations to the scripture verses that we’ve learned over the years. And those personal interpretations can change wildly as we progress and make changes in our own development. The constant in all this is the verse itself. When we listen to choral albums and concerts, or make those glorious statements with our own voices in rehearsal and worship every week, we choral enthusiasts are reaffirming our belief in those sacred texts. And if we find ourselves humming those melodies as we make our way through life, it may just be because it is the texts, and not the melodies, that God has planted for us to hear as the real soundtrack of our day.
Part Two: My Place in the United Church of Christ
My earliest association with the United Church of Christ, by great extension, I guess you could say, is through the settlers of the Plymouth and Massachusetts Bay colonies. I lived just seven of my thirty-nine years at a distance greater than thirty miles from Boston, a place I’m proud to call my home. Chronologically speaking, my next connection comes through my employer Edwards Church’s founding in 1827 in Framingham, Massachusetts. However, my earliest legitimate tie is through my maternal grandmother who served as a member of Grace Congregational Church (also in Framingham, and newly partnered with Edwards Church) throughout the latter half of the 20th century. I’ve written before about the profound and long-lasting effect that Grandma had on me in my formative years. She was a confidant and friend, but only in reflecting on the tenth anniversary of her passing did I come to realize that in many ways she was the archetypal Congregationalist. She understood the value of the new commandment, loving her God and each of her grandchildren with her whole heart. She never wore either on her sleeve, though; a quiet Christian. She was generous, and loving, and as her body began to break down, she lived her life through those of us who still had steps to take. It is an incredible honor knowing that, through our recent merger, I am now serving with members of her congregation. Grandma is still with me.
When considering the additional (denominational) mergers that led us to the UCC as we know it today, I can’t help but think of my grandmother, coming of age during the early 1930s when four churches became two, and being nearly fifty years old in 1957 as the churches she frequented were applying a fresh coat of paint to their signage, to reflect their involvement in this new denomination, the United Church of Christ.
The third part of this paper goes into greater detail regarding my winding path to the United Church of Christ. Suffice it to say, I have made it here, and am happy. A few things in particular are of utmost importance to me.
Autonomy of the Local Church
A bad experience (see Part Three) with the United Methodist Church led me to seek, without knowing the exact terminology, an autonomous church. Paragraph 18 of our Constitution declares that:
“The autonomy of the Local Church is inherent and modifiable only by its own action. Nothing in this Constitution and the Bylaws of the United Church of Christ shall destroy or limit the right of each Local Church to continue to operate in the way customary to it; nor shall be construed as giving to the General Synod, or to any Conference or Association now, or at any future time, the power to abridge or impair the autonomy of any Local Church in the management of its own affairs.” [note]
Perhaps it is my New England roots, but I can’t now imagine being a part of a denomination that wouldn’t have the decency to allow its congregations complete control of their teachings, buildings, and personnel. I’m grateful this is built into our founding documents, and could not be removed without substantial General Synod debate. I think that autonomy is an instinctive tradition in the United States, given that our nation was founded in opposition to monarchies, and for the most part has engaged in a history of trying to give people their due rights. It is of no surprise that today’s UCC is itself a melting pot, a microcosm of the United States in general. We enjoy a high percentage membership of former Catholics and members from other Protestant denominations. In speaking of our Statement of Faith Roger Shinn addresses the fact that its use is “encouraged” rather than “required” by General Synod:
“The United Church [of Christ] makes no claims to infallibility. It makes no pretense that it has discovered once and for all the right way to state the core of Christian belief.” [note]
Covenantal Church
The covenantal structure, as outlined in the Constitution’s sixth paragraph, is the backbone of the United Church of Christ. By this structure, each “expression” of the church (Local Church, Association, Conference, General Synod) is guaranteed an audience of the others. Unlike some governing structures which are strictly top-down, in the UCC, local churches are encouraged to become passionate about any issue, and bring resolutions to Annual Meetings for consideration by their Association and Conference. Our passions have the potential to come forward all the way to the biannual General Synod:
“In this covenant, the various expressions of the United Church of Christ seek to walk together in all God’s ways.” [note]
I have seen this covenantal structure at work at the Massachusetts Conference’s annual meetings the past three years. They have become a yearly reminder that in the UCC smaller voices actually matter.
Open and Affirming Church
Among the resolutions brought forward in this covenantal structure, I connect most deeply with the Open and Affirming movement. From the moment I first set foot onto the grounds of Westminster Choir College, in a time that the general population hadn’t yet “figured it out”, many of my closest friends and fellow performers have been homosexual, I have been a brother to all people who struggle to exist simply as they are. It is inherent in the Beautiful Community of musicians that we love each other as ourselves. And so, ONA was one of the first key elements of Edwards Church that drew me to my current position. I am confident that the United Church of Christ’s progressive reforms in support of LGBTQQIA tolerance have been an influence on the right-thinking movement we are seeing at the national political level now. Same-sex marriage and a wide scale increase in transgender acceptance made 2015 one of the years I will remember for the rest of my life. (And we figured it all out long before the Episcopal, Presbyterians, and United Methodists, Hallelujah!)
ONA is a perfect example of a resolution that was important to a small group of believers, which spread over Annual Meetings and General Synods until it became a hallmark of our denomination. Others, like the Just Peace movement, have had similar multi-year paths. It gives me satisfaction to look through the history of Synod activity and see that many of these large movements have occurred and been tweaked over several years, proof of the living body that is the United Church of Christ.
Protestant Church
It goes without saying (amongst us) that the United Church of Christ is a Protestant denomination, yet every single time that I find myself explaining why I have to leave a Saturday night party a little early, it’s not the UCC part that I need to explain. The Catholics and unchurched in the room get confused much farther upstream. “So, are you a Catholic?” they ask. “Are you even a Christian?” If I want some sleep before Sunday services, honestly I should start these discussions sooner than when I am putting on my coat to leave.
As a minister of music, with a strong background in the fundamentals of church music history, church history has also become second nature. You can’t read the story of western music without encountering the Petrine Doctrine, the printing press, Martin Luther, Henry VIII, and so on.
The history of the Catholic, Lutheran, and Anglican churches are such a tremendous ride, I was dismayed in reading Gunnemann, [note] is comprised of people with journeys similar to mine.
It is possible (I have several friends with supporting stories) to serve a congregation musically without being a member, or without even being a believer of the same faith. Our contracts, after all, don’t state that we must participate in communion or be baptized in front of everyone at our first service. Provided one is capable of paying attention, selecting thoughtful musical choices, and maintaining the flow of the worship service, it’s really not essential that one be a believer and a member.
As for me and my ministry, though, it is essential. In choosing the church I would apply to in the hopes of spending a long time serving, I knew it had to be one at which I could be both a good shepherd and a member of the flock. In this, I am led by John 10:11-16, which defines my choir as my “flock”, a term I use colloquially. I believe that those choristers are my responsibility, and I am their deacon. A “hired hand does not care for the sheep”, but a good shepherd will go to great lengths to care for his flock. Moving on in this passage, Jesus implores me to find other sheep and “bring them also… [that] there will be one flock”. I interpret this to mean that I must do more than wave my arms and hope for the best. The members of the music program must perform to their highest ability each time they worship, and I must do all I can to include the congregation (“the first choir”) in the music education process, by informing them about the pieces we sing, periodically teaching appreciation classes that interest them, and inviting them to join in the singing whenever the score calls for it.
The experience at Edwards Church has been a symbiotic one. Just as I hope to give, so do I gain. Just as I offer my passion and gifts, the congregation’s notes and positive comments buoy my spirit showing me that I am doing the right thing here.
Part Three: Faith Pilgrimage
Ministerial Background
I grew up in a small United Methodist Church just a few miles from Edwards Church UCC, the church which I have served for the past eight years. It was so small, in fact, that by the turn of the 21st century it was forced to merge with a neighboring UMC. As a youth, though, I felt like I was in a healthy worship community. I don’t know if this was due to the ignorance of youth (meaning I was wrong as a kid), or if it was caused by the fog of time, that phenomena which can also cause one to stand in a postage-stamp backyard and wonder how it had shrunk since childhood. Let’s take it to be that the church had been healthier when I was young, but atrophied to extinction just as I was leaving college.
[Read more in my original post, “My Long Journey Home“]
There was at least one major benefit to the small-town nature of this church. We had so few people, I was bumped to adult-status very early on, serving as member and then chair of the Music and Worship Committee while in high school and college, and singing in the choir from the age of 16 or so. Then, as now, I thrived on worship unity and flow, and loved getting involved in the creation of any “Lay Sunday” opportunity I could get my hands on. It didn’t completely matter that the choir sometimes outnumbered the congregation. I was cutting my teeth professionally, and the church staff were willing to give me as much line as I wanted. I continued commuting to services and rehearsals throughout college, and even chose my next school based entirely on my hopes of pursuing a church career post-graduation.
And then it happened. During the summer between my two graduate years at Westminster Choir College, the governing body of the United Methodist Church told us that we were too small to be viable. They were justified by their polity, but it was my first experience at seeing how much I longed for an autonomous, covenantal church, like the United Church of Christ. Yes, we were small, perhaps even pathetic in the eyes of our General Conference, but to all of us who were marginalized that summer, we felt homeless after our final service. I had had a key to the sanctuary from high school, and spent many daytime hours there in college and on summer vacations, practicing piano and organ as comfortably as I would have in my own house. At the time, I couldn’t bear the thought of losing it all.
That was it for me and Methodism. Justifiable or not, I decided never to put myself into a situation again in which the wishes of the local community of believers would mean nothing in the end. But that meant that after commencement, degrees in hand, [Nassau Presbyterian Church of Princeton, New Jersey, where I served as music administrator for fifteen church choirs. It was nearly a dream come true, there on the periphery of greatness, using my organizational skills to help the music program run smoothly. I enjoyed the Presbyterian Church (USA) more than the United Methodist Church, but had fundamental differences with certain aspects of their structure as well. But, I was getting closer.
Upon moving back to Massachusetts, it was essential that I find employment as quickly as possible, and I ended up tabling my hopes of church music employment for just a bit longer. I managed the New England Philharmonic, a job whose weekend commitments kept me, yet again, from pursuing church membership or position. I served three seasons with the ensemble, learning a lot, but realizing more and more that I needed to reclaim my dreams, and pursue them more vigorously.
Current Position
In the spring of 2009, I began my pursuit in earnest. While on vacation in the White Mountains, a location that gives me comfort and clarity, I found the job listing on Craigslist. I was familiar with and liked its town; I had no issues with its denomination; and it was to start for the coming fall. One line in the announcement sealed the deal for me: “Open and Affirming congregation”. I researched that phrase and it was all I needed to know.
[Read more in my original post, “Comfort in Things Unchanged“]
I updated my résumé, wrote a cover letter, dusted off my open-score playing skills, and began my relationship with my new home church. There was the phone screening with the pastor. There was an interview, portions of which I still remember vividly, portions of which I wish I still remembered vividly. There was a trial rehearsal, fifteen minutes or so dedicated to working with the choir on, appropriately, Harold Friedell’s “Draw Us in the Spirit’s Tether”. There was the first visit to worship. With the completion of those steps, I was offered the position of choir director at Edwards Church, UCC. For the first time, some twenty years after the germ had first appeared, I was a professional musician.
From the start of my job search, it had been essential that I find a place whose values were in line with my own. I am a believer that music staff should be true to the mission of their church, and not serve purely as a “gig”. [website for the music program. In 2014, I met two goals on the same day, by preaching my first Edwards sermon, and teaching my first music appreciation class, open to the full congregation. I intend to do much more, in an effort to expand all members’ connection to Christ through music. I see my flock as more than a dedicated core of choristers. This is where we belong, and at times in these eight years it’s been tempting to take it for granted. I say “at times” because there are just as many occasions when I am nearly brought to tears of joy thinking about what a blessing this family is in my life.
Hearing people’s testimonies, praying for others, joining new groups of friends, seeing a member return from a long vacation or illness, receiving a card in the mail. These are all continual reminders of the blessings pouring out of Edwards Church.
It is because of these connections to the people and the traditions of this local church that I am seeking a commissioning in Music Ministry. I am not looking to complete a series of checkboxes toward the goal of one more bullet on my résumé. Rather, I see this anticipated commissioning as an affirmation that I am called as a servant of God by the United Church of Christ. There are far more skilled conductors and rehearsal accompanists in the world. The gift which I bring is a dedication to the church and its people. Music is just the vehicle, the common ground on which we can meet. For me, Commissioned Ministry represents that commitment to the local church, to God, and to myself.
Commitment to the United Church of Christ through Music
In 2014, as I set up my personal website, unsure of what would become its mission, I coined the term “Beautiful Community” to express the way I feel as part of the musical world. And, a year later, I developed those ideas further into a sermon with that same title. My first musical expressions were intensely personal impressions, almost. Few people knew the amount of internal passion that burned within me on evenings and weekends throughout my high school years.
That began to change when I first realized the community inherent in the chamber music field, where every individual can make or break a group. Chamber musicians become their own deacons, if you will, and in those four years, working tirelessly as a full-time student, and testing what I’d learned, as a budding church musician, I began to see how intricately connected music and religion were for me. Unfortunately, many performing musicians never explore that far. I’m glad that I chose to connect my experiences to Jesus’ teaching that “where two or three are met together”, he too would be present. That has become my mantra as I have worked to clarify my theological position.
I am dedicated to the belief that all the faithful are worthy of the musical gifts that God has bestowed on those of us who are fortunate enough to make music to his glory. As such, I treat my choir as my flock, as we all do, but realize that I have a commitment to the entire congregation. This has been part of my goal throughout my tenure at Edwards Church. A mentor of mine (Sue Ellen Page, of Nassau Presbyterian Church) teaches that the congregation is “the first choir”, a term which could both ruin the ego of a “gigging church musician” and serve as the bedrock of a serving musician’s ministry. How cruel that many of my colleagues effectively hold their hands in front of themselves saying to the bulk of the congregation, “Stop! You don’t actually make music, so you don’t get to learn about any of it either… Oh, you don’t like the music we sing? Tough, it’s good for you.” My repertoire choices attest to the belief that God is all around us (still speaking), and is experienced by people in many places (sanctuary, nature, classroom) so why not offer them many options to hear God as well. We do a disservice when we offer only one composer, style, or period over and over, or declare that other music cannot connect people to God.
I have felt a lifelong desire to reach out to all people, and that inclusiveness is directly related to my beliefs about the music of the church. As suggested above, I don’t believe that any music is inherently inappropriate for church. It is our goal, as church musicians, and worship planners, to gauge individual services and occasions, and meet their needs with music appropriate for each worship experience.
Yes, this may mean that sometimes a piece that was planned and rehearsed may not end up being the right choice, based on the tone of the day. It is not the music that reigns, but Christ. It is our job to take the congregation “there”, and “there” is an ever-moving target. Sometimes we are meant to be front and center. At other times, it is essential that we blend in; the servant, not the performer.
[Read more in my original post, “No Big Deal Matters“]
In his Sermon on the Mount, Jesus goes to great lengths to warn his disciples against ostentation while praying, giving to the poor, and fasting. In describing the devoted Christian’s habits, he instead uses the phrase “in secret” six times in Matthew 6 (NRSV), alone. I believe that this train of thought extends nicely to my focus area, as a church musician. I began, as a young man, timid to share my gifts. Being a church musician was so unusual to my high school friends, I felt I had to do everything in secret! Over time, however, I’ve come to realize that Jesus, elsewhere in this sermon, calls me to “let [my] light shine before others, so that they may see [my] good works….” The paradox of these two statements, juxtaposed in the same sermon can only be settled through what follows in that ellipsis: “… and give glory to your Father in heaven.”
On my journey toward Commissioned Ministry, I’ve begun to expand my “Beautiful Community” model in an attempt to let God’s light shine upon an even greater number of people, outside the walls of Edwards Church, and I intend to continue reaching out, as I am able. I published a well-received article on managing a hymn-writing competition in the UCC Musicians Association‘s journal. I presented at the American Choral Directors Association Eastern Conference on “Empowering the Volunteer Choir with Technology”. And at that same conference, I was invited to join a roundtable panel on “Saving the World Through Singing”. These are small steps toward truly reaching the entire world, but I am moving at a pace that I can handle, as I continue my full-time job in educational technology at Boston University. All my professional thoughts are compiled and tracked at my personal website, where I invite other members of the larger community to join in the discussion. Any way that I can assist others, I welcome. Small steps, they may be. I have been inspired, of late, by the poetry of John Rutter (in his anthem Dedication and Amen):
“With so many roads to follow, so many dreams, and schemes to plan,
If I may not change the whole wide world, may I do the best I can.” [note]
That sentiment struck me the first time I read it in preparation for leading the choir, and I have wiped a tear thinking of it many times since. In this fast-paced world, we are often told to “be the difference” and “make the change”. But this charge can paralyze us at times by its own weight. Right now, I’m not in a position to preach to the world, or to conduct a symphonic choir, in the hopes of moving the audience to join their local United Church of Christ. But, I can make these smaller steps. I can do the best I can.
Epilogue
I wrote the majority of this paper in the spring and early summer of 2016, during a time of many coincidental changes at Edwards Church. Our accompanist was beginning to retire after some twenty-five years of service. Our Christian education director position had just opened up. Our church leaders were in a period of discernment regarding a merger with neighboring Grace Church UCC. We were beginning to think about the possibilities of adding a second service which would ease our welcome to Grace by reflecting their familiar style of worship. On a near-weekly basis, I saw church polity in action, after many years without any comparable events happening.
Through the readings and conversations I’ve explored during my commissioning discernment period, I have found that I am now more confident to speak up and lead. I have a more finely-tuned understanding of the long-range ramifications of our present-day decision-making, and have felt empowered to make suggestions that may affect our music program for years to come. I’ve always taken my position seriously, respecting the time and talents of our members. Now, this process has led me now to see my ministry in historic terms as well.
It amazes me to think of the continuum on which I serve, both at Edwards Church and in the broader UCC in general, and to think that future generations will look at the work we are doing right now as historical document, proof of our convictions. Those efforts that we fight passionately for now will be admired by those who follow us, regardless of how they play out. I know this to be true because I regularly remind myself that a few years back, a student pastor was charged to preach on the legacy of Jonathan Edwards, concluding that, although we may not agree with all his teachings now, we should strive to have the strength to live out our own present-day convictions as passionately as he did, when our congregation’s founders honored his name.
Professional musician was a term that gripped me from the age of ten. I had to attain it, and fought for it in spite of mentors’ conflicting advice, the sternest of which came from my studio teacher who, in saying “If you can manage to avoid a career in music, you should,” implied that there would be no smooth path. He was right, but I couldn’t bring myself to avoid it. Open and affirming was also a term that gripped me. It symbolized for me what a church should be. I knew I had to be a part of a church that cared about humanity to that extent. Commissioned Ministry in Music is term that is new to me, relatively speaking, but yet another that gets caught in my mind and I know it must be a part of my life.
I am a better person because of music, and my creator’s faithfulness is ever clearer to me because of its place in my life. When I bring people closer to God through my music, I am assured that I have done “the best I can”. I’ve gained strength from that realization for years. Of greater significance is my recent conclusion that the authority Commissioned Ministry brings (coupled with its ability to lead people to serve with me) is what may allow us truly to “change the whole wide world”.