Category: Ministry

“Those were the golden years.”

We’ve all used that phrase, and we’ve all heard that phrase. It hearkens back to a bygone era of success, vibrancy, and comfort. An era which has now passed, and an era which beckons us to experience again its glory. And so the phrase “those were the golden years” escapes our lips as a lament. We lament what has been lost, as if we’ll never again attain that level of blessing or joy.

People in the pews remember the golden years. They were when so-and-so was doing such-and-such, and when this-and-that was happening, until this-and-that happened, and we stopped doing such-and-such, and then we lost so-and-so.

People in church leadership remember the golden years too. They were when the budget was bigger, attendance was higher, the buzz was buzzier, and the grass was greener, until summer turned to winter, the cold winds blew in, and everything dried up.

Oh for the golden years. If only we could have those years back again. If only we could recapture that magic. If only we could just do what we did then. If only we could take matters into our own hands. If only, if only, if only.

The people of Israel fell into this trap in Exodus 32. From a toxic combination of forgetfulness, impatience, sinfulness, fear, and disobedience, came their decision to take matters into their own hands, and to make for themselves their own god: a golden calf. Astoundingly, the people then attributed their deliverance to the idol they had made with their own hands. Big mistake. Because, in fact, their God was at work in ways they couldn’t see, leading them forward through the desert to a new land.

It’s tempting to look back on the golden years when you’re wandering through the desert. Even if those golden years were actually not as rosy as you’re remembering.

How often do we do the same thing? We know we’re wandering, we know we’re not where we used to be, and we’re scared. But we know that we used to do was working, and we know how to do that, so let’s get busy building what we know, and then stand back and watch our deliverance. Big mistake. Because, in fact, our God is at work in ways we can’t see, leading us forward through the desert to a new day.

The person who rolls his or her eyes at the faithful trusting in a God who leads his people forward into new lands is a person who has made a golden calf out of the golden years. But the person who waits, expectedly and faithfully and longingly, for God’s sovereign provision and perfect timing, has placed his trust in the right place.

So look back on the “golden years” and remember. Remember God’s faithfulness and goodness.

But don’t idolize those golden years, and attempt to take matters into your own hands, and recreate those years. Instead, trust in the same God who was faithful and good then, trusting that he is faithful and good now, and follow him wherever he leads.

When I was a young lad, an early teenager who was sensing a call to pursue worship leading as a career, I was blessed to have a healthy supply of normal mentors in my life. These were guys who were the worship leaders or youth pastors at my church, and who were fantastic at what they did, but (and this is not a bad thing) were just plain-out normal.

They wore normal clothes. They drove normal cars. They did normal things. They didn’t present themselves as being any better than anyone else, they were accessible, and they were people I could see myself emulating someday.

Even the “celebrity” worship leaders (who were putting out albums, speaking at conferences, and doing worship leading seminars around the country) were pretty normal too. They wore dorky sweaters on their album covers, they had a job at their local church with fake plants covering up the floor monitors, and when you met one of these guys at a conference or seminar, they surprised with you their… normal-ness.

A lot of the guys and gals in my generation of worship leaders were deeply impacted by a collection of normal trailblazers, that we either knew personally, or came to know through their broader influence, and to this day (whether we’re conscious of it or not) are still emulating what we saw.

I’m grateful to still know a lot of those guys who helped shape me from an early stage. And they’re still pretty normal. And I still need (and will always need) their continued mentoring.

But I’m not as young a lad anymore, and now I’m the same age that MY mentors were when I first met them. There are middle schoolers, high schoolers, and even college students who are discerning a call to worship leading, or worship team involvement, and I’m not so much a peer to them – I’m actually more of a mentor.

And I want to be just as “normal” as my mentors growing up were. The worship leading world is bigger than it was 15-25 years ago, and it has become a wee bit more difficult for up-and-coming  worship leaders to find older/more-seasoned worship leaders in their own church or in the music/conference/seminar world who are normal. The celebrity factor is a bit more of an issue than it was in the 90s, or even the early 2000s.

Those of us who benefitted from normal mentors need to make sure we become that kind of normal mentor ourselves. We owe it to a crop of young musicians, who will one day be shaping the worship of the church, to provide a model of accessible, genuine, down-to-earth, humble local-church servanthood. If all that’s being offered is a glossy picture of cool church celebrity-ism, or performancism, then we’re setting up the future generation (and their churches) for a drift away from the ancient paths.

The more we pursue (and seek to be) normal, faithful, accessible, and Christ-centered mentors, the more the aura of celebrity will fall away from the role of worship leading: and that can’t happen soon enough.