by Tim H. Swanson
The crowd was charged. They were gathered around the cage cheering for the fighters inside. An explosion of sound came whenever someone made a really good connecting shot. I was in the back, in a holding pen, with the rest of the fighters, each of us waiting for our turn. I was nervous when I saw my match up. He was this massive NFL looking tank of a man named Marvin. Now, I normally get a little anxious before a fight, but I was even more nervous knowing I would fight him. To make matters even worse, they always save the heavyweight fights for the end of the night, which meant I got to sit with my anxiety all evening. I sat next to Marvin. He was a really nice guy; But I knew from experience, when it came time to fight, that niceness would go away, and I was going to get mean Marvin.
When there were only a few fights left before Marvin and me, I started warming up with my trainer, Mike King. He held padded gloves so I could loosen up and practice all my combos. Trying to ignore my fears, I hit Mike’s pads with as much intensity as I could muster. After years of training, I had a good stance and some real experience. That didn't stop me from being afraid of Marvin’s cinder block fists.
Before long, it was time for my fight. Mike strapped my gloves to my hands, and I stepped into the cage. That's always a strange feeling. It's a whole different kind of stage than the one I play music on at Moon Valley Bible Church. Similar in that the crowds at both the fight and my church are after blood. But the people at church are after Jesus' blood, while the crowd that night was more interested in my blood. The announcer did his thing and stepped out of the ring. They closed the gate and locked me in there with that behemoth of a man. He looked at me with intensity in his eyes. I've noticed that lots of fighters do that as a tool for intimidation. I'm not any got at it, so I don't even try.
The bell rung, and our fight began. Marvin was fast, and his arms were like cannons. Sure enough, I was looking at what I feared, mean Marvin. He threw lots of wide powerful shots, and for a while I managed to keep him from connecting. Then he fired off a Hay-maker that landed like a hammer square on my temple. Everything went a little dark, but I didn't fall over. The crowd surged. And in that moment, through all the adrenaline and noise, my thoughts felt clear, "I don't want to do this anymore. I should throw in the towel. Who would want to subject themselves to this kind of punishment?" But for one reason or another I didn't give up right there. Instead, I put my guard back up and took another step toward Marvin, and I'm glad I did. If I had given up, I would have missed the part later in the first round where I delivered such a powerful shot that it knocked Marvin to the ground. I would have missed the second round, where he was exhausted, and I began to pull ahead on the scorecard. I would have missed the part where they announced me as the winner. I wouldn't have the 'Ultimate Combat Champion' medal that they put around my neck after I won. If I had given up, I would have... nothing. (You can watch a video of this fight at the bottom of the page)
Leading church music is a lot like being a cage fighter. Like a fighter, you go to ridiculous lengths to prepare. As you prepare, you work under the assumption that you're taking the right steps to win at your job. And the most significant similarity is that you're bound to get beat up while you're doing it. You probably haven’t gotten physically punched in the face while leading the music on Sunday morning. If you have, then you might be doing something wrong. But I haven't met a worship leader yet who hasn't been verbally and emotionally beaten up by discontent church members. Those people can hit hard with their words. It’s enough to make a person want to quit, and I know worship leaders who have. Most of us don’t run when church members attack. However, there is a more common response that is probably worse than running. When faced with angry parishioners, there can be a temptation to become defensive and cynical. I’ve done this before. When approached by somebody with a particularly nasty tone, I’d begin to get this attitude of, “What’s your problem? I’m just trying to do my job. If you’re gonna be rude, I’m just not going to listen to you.” Then I’d write off everything the person says. The problem is, when I do that, I stop doing my job. Probably a lot like your church, my church hired me to connect people with God. My primary way of doing that is through music, but when I step off stage and think my job is done, I’m a fool. As a worship leader, my job is to connect people with God, period. That takes place whether I’m on stage, off stage, back stage, in the sound booth, or getting verbally jumped while I grab a cup of coffee in the lobby. Of course my job continues while I’m not even at church, but for the purposes of this article, we’ll camp on the people at Sunday morning services. One of the essentials of my job is showing Jesus’ love to people, and that includes the Christians who should know better, and are nasty anyway.
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| The only real difference here is that there's no cage. |
Just like cage fighting, in leading worship it’s essential that we have a good offense. Only when it comes to connecting people with God, a good offense is founded in love and respect. So here are some good loving and respectful responses to common oppositions that we get from church members.
1. From where they’re standing, they need Jesus’ love. This is the most valuable thing I’ve learned about communicating with people: When they’re angry, there’s always more than meets the eye. Every person has a story filled with pain and scars. Nearly all of them have baggage that relates with church. Understanding that will give you the advantage of realizing that it’s not all about you. In fact, it may have nothing to do with you. If somebody in the church is particularly resistant to change, their attack on your song choice may just be them venting over how uncomfortable they are about losing their sense of familiarity. When you understand that, it’s easier to not get defensive and then respond in love. You’ll see that you’re not facing an attacker, but a wounded follower of Jesus. Then you can bring the ultimate offense, love. You can respond kindly. It won’t be scary to affirm their complaints and validate what they’re saying. And instead of getting taken down by cynicism, you’ll be empowered. You’ll experience spiritual growth. And who knows, from a positive response from you, the other person might even begin to experience healing.
2. A response to complaints about song selection. You probably don’t sit down to plan music and think, “Let’s see, what songs are really going to confuse and upset people this week?” I bet you spend time looking for music that will move people, and encourage their spiritual growth. But it’s painful when people slam your song choice because it doesn’t fit their taste. When this happens, begin building common ground right there with some questions. Ask the person what kinds of songs really help them connect with God. That is a move that defuses some tension right away by showing the person that you care and are listening. Then ask some good follow up questions to get the person talking about what really helps them connect with God. As your brother or sister in Christ responds, listen for a place where his/her values line up with yours. When they say something that you can relate with, you’re ready to respond. You can give a brief explanation of your core values in worship, and why you pick the songs you do. I like to affirm people by telling them that I will consider the songs they mentioned. The only trick with a move like that is that you actually have to go listen to their music, and find the stuff that will fit with your repertoire. But I have found some of my favorite tunes by listening to angry people chew me out about my song selection.
3. A response to complaints about the volume. These are different than complaints about your song selection. When people tell you they don’t like the songs you’ve chosen, they’re saying their preferences are hurt. When they tell you it’s too loud, they’re saying their ears physically hurt. The essential with these people is validation. We have to listen and affirm. I usually respond to these people by saying something like, “Well, it certainly isn’t our goal to hurt you. In fact, we really want to help you connect with God. It kills me to know that the volume was a distraction for you this morning. I’ll continue talking to my team about how to work this issue out. Thank you for letting me know about this. It helps me know where we need to direct our efforts.” Professional sounding right? The truth is, if sound is an issue in your church, you spend more time working on the issue than you’d care to. So assure your people of that. You can even tell them what steps you’ve taken to work past it. The most important thing here is that your attitude is salted with the love of Christ. Your church member may still be unsatisfied when the conversation is over. The important thing is that you don’t stop being a worship leader when someone is attacking you.
Conversations with angry church members can feel like a fight. It feels like they're attacking what we do. It can be tempting to respond in kind, but that's not our job. Our job is to work to connect people with Jesus, even when they're telling us we're bad at our job. This week when you're at church, and you see the regular attackers, remember Paul's words, "The goal of our instruction is love from a pure heart and a good conscience and a sincere faith” (1 Timothy 1:5 NASB).
WARNING: This fight was NOT a church sponsored function. For that reason, there is a scantily clad ring girl, and a few people throw out some foul language from time to time. So use some wisdom and discernment when you watch it.
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