I thoroughly enjoy praising God through music. I’m not a great singer, but I can “make a joyful noise unto the Lord” as part of the church choir.
It was a Sunday morning last February. The choir had just finished their part of the service and I walked off the platform and into the pew with that euphoric high that comes after a stirring musical package beautifully presented.
Before I recognized what was happening, the soloist came forward to sing the offertory, the offering plate was coming down the aisle, and my mood of reverence was obliterated. “Drat! I left that check on the counter when I left this morning. I forgot to bring my offering!”
With apologies to our pastor, my concentration was lost for the next twenty-five minutes as my mind wandered down a labyrinth of thoughts. It is those thoughts that I want to share with you here. As context, you should know about a discipline that I began after moving to Arizona in 2000, reading through the Bible each year. That gives you an idea of what was influencing my thinking last February.
Back to the forgotten offering. My next thought was, “No, I simply left part of my offering at home. My singing was an offering of worship this morning. I’m okay. Or am I?”
I remembered in Genesis 4, where the passage reads: “In the course of time Cain brought some of the fruits of the soil as an offering to the LORD. But Abel brought fat portions from some of the firstborn of his flock. The LORD looked with favor on Abel and his offering, but on Cain and his offering he did not look with favor.”
“Hmm,” I thought, “some offerings are good and some aren’t.”
Then I recalled all the excruciating detail in Leviticus and Deuteronomy about offerings. Offerings had to be without spot or blemish. Offerings had to be prepared according to precise instructions. When presented as required, offerings were acceptable as a savory aroma to the Lord.
“Paul,” I worried, “how can you consider your singing to be an acceptable offering to the Lord?” You see, in the late 80’s I had a malignant tumor removed from my neck with radiation treatment as a follow up. The surgeon cut a secondary nerve to one vocal cord, and the radiation burns caused changes in my voice box where I can no longer reach middle C or higher. And not only is my vocal offering “blemished,” but the preparation was flawed too. I don’t read music, and I don’t always have the best attitude during rehearsals.
Then, I remembered reading somewhere about God being not too pleased with the Israelites and their insincere approach to religious services. I found that for which I was looking in Amos 5: “I hate, I despise your religious feasts; I cannot stand your assemblies. Even though you bring me burnt offerings and grain offerings, I will not accept them. Though you bring choice fellowship offerings, I will have no regard for them. Away with the noise of your songs! I will not listen to the music of your harps.”
That is a pretty strong indictment. Then my thoughts went to, “No, Paul, you’re using the wrong standard.” You see, in the Old Testament, the Law was established to show the need for offerings to bridge the gap between fallen man and Holy God. The detail and perfection required both illustrate the quality of offering needed and point forward to the perfect offering, the life of Jesus Christ.
“But,” I am thinking, “we are now under the New Covenant.” We are seen by God as “in Christ.” God now views our offerings through the perfection of Jesus. So my responsibility is not to be perfect, but to present my offerings with the right heart attitude. If I may, the Paul Neighbors amplified version of Psalm 19:14: “Let the words of my mouth, and the meditation of my heart, and the songs from my lips, be acceptable in thy sight, O LORD, my strength, and my redeemer.”
My approach to choir changes as I internalize the truth that it’s not about me, or my musical preferences, but it’s about Him. If there was a song I didn’t like, or another base part written ridiculously out of my register, I used to be pretty quick with the sarcastic humor.
As I was convicted of my attitude, I became sensitized to negativity around me. Not that I’m trying to be “holier than thou,” because I still struggle with this issue, but when I would hear a negative comment from someone within the choir, I would try to do two things. First, to pray for that person, that their heart might be softened. Second, to pray to God, and apologize to Him for that comment that I know grieved Him, and for all the times my thoughts or comments grieved Him as well.
Under the Old Covenant, offerings were commanded. Under the New Covenant, offerings are voluntary as an expression of our love. Our offerings are an acknowledgment that Christ Himself is the perfect offering. What we give (money, talent, skills) is irrelevant. The issue is that as we give, we focus on acknowledging Christ for who He is in our lives.
Oh, and by the way. I did remember the check the next Sunday.
