“Let us practice the fine art of making every work a priestly ministration.
Let us believe that God is in all our simple deeds and learn to find Him there.”
A. W. Tozer,
The Pursuit of God
Every so often, life gives us an opportunity to look around and realize just how much has changed. Sometimes those changes are obvious: new places, new responsibilities, new seasons of life. Other times, they happen so gradually that we don’t notice them until we pause and look back.
A few years ago, during one such transition, I found myself going through boxes of books that had followed me from place to place. Among them were two books that had been given to me by former churches: A. W. Tozer’s The Pursuit of God and Calvin M. Johansson’s Discipling Music Ministry: Twenty-first Century Directions. Both had been sitting on my shelves for years, still bookmarked, waiting patiently for me to return to them.
I’ve thought often about Johansson’s book since then. He addresses many of the questions at the heart of music and worship and, more importantly, asks us to examine some of the assumptions we make about why we make music in the first place. His central premise is simple but profound: one of the primary functions of music in worship should be to form us into ever more mature and faithful disciples.
I find that idea compelling because music has the capacity to do so much more than teach us how to sing, play, or perform. Music can shape our attention. It can teach us to listen. It can make us vulnerable. It can connect us to people we might otherwise never know. It can give us language for things we cannot say ourselves. And, perhaps most importantly, it can open us to an encounter with something larger than ourselves.
And yet, I continue to encounter an unfortunate amount of gatekeeping in the musical world. We can become so concerned with who is good enough to participate that we forget why we invited people to make music in the first place. What would it look like if our discipling of others were less about technique and more about invitation? What if it were less about mastering music and more about allowing ourselves to be mastered by it? What if our goal were not simply to produce better musicians, but to cultivate people who are more attentive, compassionate, curious, courageous, connected, and alive? Perhaps music ministry is at its best when it captivates us with the beauty of God’s love and gives us a place to practice receiving it.
And no, I’m not saying excellence doesn’t matter. It does. Learning to sing well, play well, listen carefully, rehearse faithfully, and work together is part of the discipline of making music. But excellence and welcome do not have to be opposites. In fact, I believe that some of our greatest musical experiences happen when people are invited into the process before they are certain they belong there. Music can teach us how to fail without giving up. It can teach us to listen to someone else’s part instead of insisting on our own. It can teach us that our individual contribution matters, while also reminding us that the whole is greater than any one person. It can stretch us beyond what we thought we were capable of and introduce us to possibilities we never knew existed.
This is why I believe so strongly in music as ministry. I don’t want a music ministry that simply produces music for the church. I want a music ministry that helps form the church—a place where people of different ages, experiences, abilities, and backgrounds can discover that they have something to contribute. A place where a seasoned musician can continue to grow alongside someone picking up an instrument or joining a choir for the very first time. A place where we can work hard toward excellence without confusing excellence with perfection.
Ultimately, I think this is what Tozer’s invitation means: to recognize that God is present in the ordinary things we do. Rehearsing. Listening. Singing. Teaching. Learning. Making mistakes. Trying again. Making something beautiful together. These are not merely activities surrounding ministry. They can be ministry themselves.
So let us make music, not because we have already mastered it, but because we are willing to be changed by it. Let us sing because we have something to say, and because sometimes singing gives us words we didn’t know we had. Let us make room for those who are curious, those who are experienced, those who are nervous, those who are returning, and those who have never thought of themselves as musicians at all.
Rehearsals for Bells and Choir start Thursday September 10th
Hear the call, feel the nudge, make some music.
Garrett Artman, Director of Music Ministry
