This Sunday at church, I sang during the offertory. It was the very first time I had done anything like this in my life. Not only did I sing alone, I sang a capella. I was a nervous wreck. Sweat was pouring off of me. Fortunately, it was hot out with 140% humidity, so people may have thought it was just the heat.
I have been playing my mandolin in the church Worship Team for several months now, quietly singing and blending in. Because of this, I suppose the average person sitting in the pew thinks I must be talented or what not since I'm up there with the other actual musicians. No. This is not the case. I am a faker. A poser. I know only enough about my chosen instrument to be dangerous. My only "credential" is that I love music and, more importantly, I love the Lord. Thus, I'm drawn to the Worship Team. I fully expect at some point it's going to dawn on someone just how horrible I really am. They'll wave the music to a stop. Point at me and shout, "You! Off the stage!"
The song went well from my perspective. In that, I mean, I did not screw up. I did not forget the words. Nor did I pass out or throw up on myself in the middle of it. For that, I am pleased.
More importantly, I felt I made an honest offering of the song to God, and that those who were stuck listening to me understood and felt the meaning of the words I was singing.
I'm glad I did it. And I think maybe God was too.