It may be the world’s most unlikely worship band.
Can I tell you about it?
I’d showed up for a regular appointment at a local senior retirement center. For several years, they’ve let me serve them as a speaker at their Christian worship service, held Wednesdays at 11:00am sharp. Except this time, the start time wasn’t as sharp.
The fact is, we were late. Our piano player and sound technician (a husband and wife couple) were delayed. A lot. Fortunately, there’s a guy who owns a nice Bose radio, and he played a CD of reverent piano solos while we waited. And waited.
The canned music was calming, but not the voice of the lady who coordinates the service. She was on the phone desperately trying to track down the missing keyboard lady and her husband. Me, I was going over my notes, as I always do when getting ready to speak, scanning my iPad—lost to the world. That’s when it happened.
The Bose radio began playing the strains of the iconic hymn, Amazing Grace. At first I thought I heard humming. I glanced up from my notes and then heard one voice singing. Then another.
Amazing grace, how sweet the sound that saved a wretch like me. Soon the whole room was alive with spontaneous singing.
I once was lost but now am found, ‘'twas blind but now I see. This singing crowd, filled with wheelchairs and walkers, could not have been more sincere. Or worshipful. They sang because they were gripped. They sang because they’d connected. They sang because they couldn’t not sing.
Honestly, I was caught off guard by the lump in my throat.
In a world of Chris Tomlin and Joel Houston and Hillsong United, these people reminded me that true worship doesn’t require projectors and screens and lights and guitars.
True worship is a thing of the heart—with or without the official keyboard player.