The Loaves and Fishes of Ward Choir

Three weeks ago, I got my annual Christmas present a little early: my epic, barking, you must've-started-smoking-at-age-4 cough.

Once again, it was looking like I would not be able to participate in our annual ward Christmas program, and I was devastated. I used to hate being in the ward choir, but my experiences with ward choirs have forever changed how I feel about spending yet another hour to stay at church to go to the rehearsals.

I used to be a lot like Fanny Brice when it came to singing in ward choirs; I only wanted to participate if they were singing songs that I liked. Though it pains me to admit it, I must confess: I was in the "Too Cool for Ward Choir Club." It's a malady that often afflicts musicians who are reluctant to swim in a musical pool of open plunge.

The impetus that started my conversion happened in 2011 when I was ironically called to be the ward choir director. I cried. I tearfully told the bishop - a close friend - "You realize you've just called me to be the ward Amway salesman." And by that, I meant I would instantly become the neighborhood pariah from whom people ran and hid, terrified of aggressive recruitment tactics that would rope them into an odious 4th hour of church on Sundays. No projecting going on there...

In spite of a musical background, piano experience did NOT equal choir conducting experience, and I continued to tearfully make my way through the next four years of the calling that was right up there with roadshow director on the list of Callings I Pray I Never Receive. Which I've also done, by the way - TWICE.

I begged and pleaded with many ward members to support the choir, and endured a variety of responses, profoundly grateful for any and all yeses - even the reluctant ones.

I attended choir workshops held by the local music store to find new music. My bishop generously extended a budget to purchase beautiful songs to entice people to WANT to come and serve. To worship and praise.

I'm happy to say I had the calling long enough to be authentically sad to see it go, and here's why: I learned in a brand new way what it looks like to live the law of consecration.

Hear me now: NOTHING will teach you about the law of consecration like participating in a church choir. Because it is an all-comers' affair, you get to witness, up close and personal, what happens when musicians and non-musicians alike bring their meager loaves and fishes to the Savior to be blessed. Trust me - there will always be enough and to spare.

The challenge of the ward choir is that the loaves and fishes change from week to week. The week before our program this year, Dale came home from rehearsal very discouraged. I had been home, on time out yet again, because of the perennial cough. Along with my absence, other circumstances had brought fewer loaves and fishes that day.

But when consecrated disciples are willing - and sometimes even a little less than willing, even begrudging - I am now and forevermore astonished with what the Lord can do with a little band of singers and non-singers.

Last Saturday morning, I went to choir rehearsal with great trepidation and a pocket of cough drops - one already tucked inside my cheek. As I sang the beautiful songs Dale had prayerfully selected, I marveled at how these numbers had come together over the course of the last two months. Once again, the Lord had made our loaves and fishes enough to be a feast.

The Spirit entered into the equation on Sunday morning, and made our offering holy by joining us, singing with us, making us sound better than we really are.

I could barely sing the words with tears in my eyes and on my cheeks:

"Her eyes are fixed upon His Face,

Unheeded here is time and space;

Her heart is filled with blinding joy,

For God's own Son - her baby Boy."

(Nancy Buckley, There is Faint Music)

It might not have been literal fire coming down from heaven, consuming a soggy, wet, far less than ideal sacrifice - but it felt like it. We ended the program with words that teach this tender lesson:

"What shall I give Him, poor as I am?

If I were a shepherd, I would bring a lamb.

If I were a wise man, I would do my part.

What I can, I give Him,

Give my heart."

(Christina Rosetti, In the Bleak Midwinter)

Whenever we see that God has touched our offering and made it enough - and more than enough, with leftovers even - this will happen. We will marvel at what His power can bring to our feeble, clumsy abilities.

But it will never be more tender than when a band of willing and reluctant musicians and non-musicians know they sounded better than they ever deserved to. A ward choir is some of the most active duty consecration you will ever experience. Five stars; highly recommend.

Something else to consider: if you love Jesus here and now, there's a good chance you were a part of the heavenly host then. It's possible that on that quiet night over 2000 years ago, when Jesus made His anonymous entrance into the world the first time, you couldn't even help yourself, and begged to wake up those sleepy temple shepherds.

Perhaps there were rehearsals involved.

So consider: when He comes again, we won't be able to keep still - again. We're going to want to sing and shout Hosanna. "How long we have wandered as strangers in sin, and cried in the desert for Thee!" (Redeemer of Israel Hymn #6) .

Maybe we'll be so glad we've been rehearsing.