Mike

Over the years, Tim and I have been honored to serve on worship teams with many wonderful, unique people. Each person has had a “sound” of their own, which I seem to remember them with.

I remember how some led, and I remember how others followed. Some led worship with hand cues, and others with their whole bodies. Some followed their leaders with the eyes of a hawk; others, not so much! I had one drummer tell me he learned how to follow me by the way my ponytail moved. Others could follow which way I was going with their eyes closed. It was like they could feel where we were going intuitively.

Looking back now, I consider what it took for each team to move in unity following a worship leader. One experience Tim had with another drummer several years ago has become an analogy for us. At that time, we were in our 20s. The drummer, Mike, was seasoned, probably in his 50s. We were full of zeal and, honestly, full of ourselves at times. Mike was steadfast, humble, and meek.

At the time, I didn’t perceive meekness for what it was. Like many young Christians, I didn’t have a good grasp on what meekness was. We all tend to see other generations through the lens of our own life experiences. By doing so, we are often mistaken and can misread what we see. When I considered the meekness of older generations, I mistook their quiet demeanor for complacency. If I knew then what I know now, I’d appreciate people so much more.

I admired Mike. He was faithful. He showed up early. He had always practiced beforehand. His rock & roll vibe was one of my favorite sounds. Even with his rock tendency, he could adapt and play anything! Most important of all, everyone knew he loved the Lord. He honored the Lord with his whole life. He lived out his beliefs with his family as a dad and husband. Without saying a word or drawing attention to himself, Mike would quietly take his shoes off before the worship set began. He acknowledged he was standing on holy ground.

One afternoon, Mike and my husband, Tim, talked about the lighting in the drum cage. Mike couldn’t see the chord sheets very well in the drum cage. Tim told me he recalled thinking, “There’s nothing wrong with the lighting; I can see them just fine in there.”

As I’m writing this, I’m about to turn 40 this June, Lord willing. My body has already had to make some minor adjustments because I’m getting older. I’ve had issues with chronic pain, migraines, TMJ, degenerative discs, endometriosis, eustachian tube dysfunction, arthritis flare-ups, and lingering brain fog from COVID. The list doesn’t stop there. Life, full of trials and tribulations, has also marked me emotionally. To summarize, “The ol’ mare, she ain’t what she used to be!” 

Stephen Covey says, “We see the world, not as it is, but as we are──or, as we are conditioned to see it.” Tim could see the chord sheets in the dark because he was younger. Mike couldn’t see the chord sheets. However, he could see in the dark,  but not in a way we fully appreciated at the time.

There wasn’t a big “aha!” moment in Tim and Mike’s conversation. The “Aha!” came later.

Mike believed in passing the baton on. He supported other musicians coming up to serve. His son was also a drummer. In relay races, running together for a span is often overlooked. When two athletes run side by side to pass the baton, their pace has to match to be successful. You can’t pass the finish line without the baton. The runners understand this. By the time they are ready to pass it on, they have already run a while with it.  Their hearts are still all in, but their bodies have given their all, and their legs have grown tired.

Runners match paces with the one they’re passing the baton to. Sometimes, this means making accommodations and honoring the other runners in the race.

To this day, Tim has 20/20 vision. He’s starting to feel the effects of aging in other ways. And, as we age, we’re noticing areas we’ve grown in. One of those areas is recognizing the needs of others serving the Lord with us who are serving at different places in their lives. 

Mike couldn’t see in the drum cage, but that didn’t mean he was done serving! It wasn’t time to pass that baton yet. It was merely time to start to match paces with some other runners.

Focusing too much on raising up a “Joshua generation” leaves people out.

The gospel doesn’t exclude people like we naturally do.

The new song that’s coming that we like to talk so much about isn’t a new musical style. It’s the sound of togetherness. It’s the sound made as runners match paces. It beats to the rhythm of freedom as they move together with the same goal, making accommodations for each other and leaning on each other’s strengths.

If we refuse to accommodate others so they can run with us, we refuse to embrace humility and forfeit unity.

Eventually, the younger generations will grow old, too. If we focus too much on how great their gifts are, we will do them a huge disservice. Be someone who looks for the gold in others, not just their functional gifts. Look for the gold that is formed by holy fire in the depths of their burning hearts. Looking is intentional. We need one another, young and old, to sharpen one another as iron sharpens iron. If we focus too much on someone’s gifts, we will only puff them up. But, if we focus on the gold, we will edify each other. 

The body of Christ needs you. You with the wheelchair, you who’ve been divorced, you with the neck pain, you with arthritis, you with the country music voice, you with the silly sense of humor. The body needs you.

But hear this: the body doesn’t always ask in ways we can easily understand. We learned in our foster training that behavior is communication.

We choose humility when we make provisions to match the pace of the younger ones! We are, after all, one generation. We are one body.

I’m so grateful for Mike’s faithfulness. I can’t wait to worship with him on the other side.