I've been a member of a number of churches throughout my life and I don’t think I've ever been in a church where there wasn't someone who absolutely loved to sing on Sunday mornings … and who absolutely could NOT hold a tune.
In one of our churches, that guy wanted nothing more than to sing in the choir. He sang bass, but it was a monotone and I’ll be doggoned, but he never missed a Sunday morning. He loved to sing.
Both of my parents had beautiful singing voices … my father’s college degree was in music with a minor in mathematics … then off to seminary to become a pastor. All three of us kids were musical. I have perfect pitch, but I learned early on that just because it was part of who I was, that didn't mean I needed to beat people over the head with it.
People always asked me if pianos that were out of tune made me crazy, or if people who couldn't sing drove me nuts. I had to always answer ‘no.’ Dad made sure that we learned that music was more than just a pitch.
I wasn't yet five when he got me started with piano lessons. He asked a high school girl in our church to give me lessons. She was terrified, but he insisted, knowing that I already adored her. He repeatedly told her that what he wanted was for me to have fun … the learning would come. What I remember most about those days with her was that I got to spend time with chickens and cats and farm animals. And … I learned how to play the piano.
So, every time someone from church who sat behind me and sang with gusto, even though they couldn't hit a note, would apologize to me when they heard that I could sing, I would brush them off. Those moments were between them and God … it was never about me. I always encouraged them to sing no matter what, because we are to ‘sing and make music from our heart to the Lord!’
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