Slideshow image

It was a beautiful September day at the beginning of my second year of college when the entire student body filed into the Landing, a small building located in the heart of our little college town. There was a buzz of excitement and energy in the room as old friends re-connected, new relationships began, and anticipation of a new year was upon us.

Our college chaplain walked up to the front of the room, where a single microphone stood, and drew our attention forward. After a quick welcome, he led us in a prayer for the year ahead of us. As he concluded, the sound of a piano broke the silence.  

I could only hear the sound of keys and the voice of the leader from where I stood, but the screen allowed me to follow along with the three part round she was teaching us. The altos sang out, “Great is He, who’s the King of kings and the Lord of lords, He is Wonderful”. Then the tenors came in with “Hallelujah, salvation and glory, honour and power, He is wonderful”. Finally, the sopranos (who were dominated by our classically trained music majors) sang out like angels, “Hallelujah, hallelujah, hallelu-jah, He is wonderful”.  

After leading us in the round 3 or 4 times, the leader brought the song to a close. Except the voices of our entire student body continued to sing these simple but declarative words. We just could not stop. Time after time the song repeated and it steadily grew louder. Unlike “The Song That Never Ends” that becomes more annoying each time you sing it, this song resounded deeper and deeper within our student body the longer it went on.  

My throat was beginning to tire, and my arms were sore from reaching them out to the King I was worshipping, so I opted to take a break during one of the many repetitions. As I stood there listening to the chorus around me I realized that in that moment I was capturing a glimpse of eternity.  

Until that point, I had always imagined eternity in a similar way to how our culture portrays it. We all walk around in the clouds with white gowns on, singing all day, and eating cream cheese on our bagels (wait…minus that one…that is a commercial advertisement). Quite honestly, as much as I love music and singing, this portrayal of eternity lacked any kind of appeal to me. I could not understand how Christians would long for a life time of, what I imagined, would be monotonous and boring.  

But here, in this moment, with my peers, I saw a whole new vision of what Christ calls us to both here in the present and into eternity. Worship that flows from every part of our being, that cannot be contained. Where we find ourselves in His presence and can do nothing but offer all that we are to bring Him glory and honour and praise. The most freeing of realizations being that this doesn’t come solely through music, but that we can offer ourselves to Him in this way through everything that we do.  

This was one of a few moments in my life that directed me into the role I now have within the church, and it is one of the moments that has shaped my leadership through music. My longing each and every time I lead a group of people in worship is to give them an opportunity to encounter Jesus. To capture a glimpse of His heart, His vision, His love, His truth. To have a taste of eternity. Because when we encounter Jesus, things change!