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| Me, leading worship at Tabernacle of David, my spiritual home of over 15 years |
Tabernacle of David has been my spiritual home since I was a teenager. (For reference, I turn 36 next week, ha!)
My parents started this Messianic congregation years ago. After I got married -- our 15 year anniversary was last week -- I learned guitar and started singing Messianic worship songs at home. The first song I learned was Baruch Hashem by Lamb, a golden oldie from the '70s. 🙂
I can remember the week my parents first asked me to lead music at our congregation. Holy cow, I wasn't ready. (I'm finding this to be generally true in life: you're never ready. Being placed in responsibility makes you ready.) I crammed practice that week. Come Erev Shabbat, I sat in a chair in front of maybe 20 people. I was nervous; I stared at the song sheets in front of me, and I couldn't for the life of me remember how any of the songs were supposed to sound like.
I got through that music set eventually and even had a few moments of genuine praise amidst all the nerves and guitar stumbling.
Over the next decade, I grew a great deal. With worship, I came to understand good worship -- worship that's pleasing to God -- is above all sincere. There's a great deal of emotionalism, performances, whip-up-the-crowd music sets. It's easy to get into that mode, because our modern worship services are modeled after stage performances: a big personality, feel-good emotion, stage, lights; theater. (That might be an area for reform in our movement in the years ahead.)
Sincerity is hard to fake, and people can usually see through it. If our worship isn't sincere, it's better to not worship at all. (I'm reminded of the Jewish principle that if prayer is not directed to God, and instead is performative, it's better not to pray at all.
If our worship is sincere, genuine, it produces gratefulness, as we sing thanksgiving psalms. It produces joy, as we sing about what God's done for His people, what He's doing now, and rejoice with joyful songs. It produces contriteness, humility as we consider how vast and deep His love for us, and consider His forgiveness of all our sins. And, as the Psalmist said, "A broken and contrite heart You will not despise, oh God."
I grew as a person at Tabernacle of David. As a leader, I learned to listen to people. People are broken. There are a great deal of hurting people. Sometimes, people need someone to talk to; no solution proposals needed. Other times, people need help. I can remember one instance several years ago where a woman slipped on icy stairs near her home and badly broke her leg. She was in the hospital for awhile, then in a nursing home while she rehabilitated the leg. It meant so much to her that we visited with her, brought her hot meals, sat and visited with her. (She was at the congregation today, my last day, and told me through tears how it meant the world to her.)
I grew theologically at Tabernacle of David. When I was young, I used to think that Shabbat, the Feasts, and eating kosher was of prime importance! (It sounds silly even now as I write it.)
Those things are good and from the Lord, but God is bigger than that. He calls us to feed the hungry, visit the sick, have compassion on the poor, visit the imprisoned. Repairers of the broken. Servants who care for people, prioritizing human relationships over religious ritual. Considering other people as more important than ourselves. A high, demanding calling, this discipleship!
But this is the holy Torah of King Messiah.
As I reflect on my congregation's accomplishments in the Lord -- our volunteering at women's shelters, homeless shelters, food shelves, Feed My Starving Children food packs, Loaves and Fishes food cooking and serving to people in need -- we fed and ministered to, in my best estimation, several thousand people. (All the glory to God, and in Messiah's name!)
I first began to preach at Tabernacle of David. I can remember when I was young people prophesying over me saying I was to preach. It was difficult growth for me, because I was not a public speaker. (And, I'm an introvert at heart. Public speaking and human interaction is exhausting for me. After a full day at the congregation, I often go home and collapse in bed.)
Preaching became a joy; still is! Prep was always difficult, though. My wife will attest I always worked hard to prepare notes, Scripture and supporting arguments. I put a great deal of effort into something heartfelt, Scriptural, and cohesive. I'd engage with modern Jewish and Christian scholarship and with great Messianic minds and mentors: J.K. McKee, Daniel Lancaster, Tim Hegg, David Stern. I would spend 4 hours each night, several nights a week, preparing a teaching for Shabbat service that would minister to the people at my small congregation. It did subtract from my family life.
I grew in life skills at Tabernacle of David. I learned how to deal with conflict. Over the years, I've dealt with troubled people -- conspiracy nuts, flat earthers, transgendered people, trouble makers of a variety of sorts, interpersonal conflicts, and more! In each circumstance, I learned how to handle it better: when to put your foot down, when to show compassion, when to listen, when to say no. When to reconcile. When to ask people to leave. (Thank God, it was required only once, to my best recollection.)
I learned to set boundaries at Tabernacle of David. (Though my wife would probably say I didn't do this enough.) Being a leader means everyone wants to talk to you, pitch their theology to you, ask you questions, ask for help. Some people just like to talk (and often, not listen!) Some people want the good feeling that comes from a leader listening to you. I always did what I could. Sometimes it's returned with gratefulness. Other times, people would resent you for not giving enough.
[I wrote here a recent, painful example of this in this paragraph, but decided to delete it. Suffice to say, there are believers-eating-believers in our movement, and it's discouraging.]
It's easy to become jaded ("all people suck" was my first thought) after those things. Also, it's easy to be discouraged when people leave your small congregation. But I came to understand we help people without expectation of repayment.
Many folks were huge blessings to me and my family. We became close with several families over the years. Friends we could open up with. Share everything with. Parting with these folks is the hardest part of leaving our congregation.
Today as we closed worship, several folks stood up and blessed me and thanked me for my service. The other leaders at the congregation laid hands on me and blessed me. One couple gave me a beautiful hard cover siddur as a parting gift. Several dozen hugs and goodbyes. And a lot of teary eyes, from them and from me. One of our leaders brought to oneg a giant bon voyage cake, with a Microsoft logo on it. (We are leaving because I am taking a new job with Microsoft.)
I feel blessed in a way that's difficult to say. I've grown closer to God and grown as a human being through serving at my congregation for over a decade. In retrospect, I'm certain that growth would not have happened without serving at Tabernacle of David. I'm beyond grateful for these years!
What's in store next? God knows! I have two inklings.
First, I have a calling to be a minister to my own family. I have been serving my congregation, often times at the expense of neglecting my own family. (It's strange; I know how to be a pastor, preacher, and worship leader. But I'm unsure how to minister to my own wife and kids. What does that even look like? God will have to help me with this.)
Second, our location in Washington state is home to Torah Resource, a ministry I greatly admire. I want my whole family to plug in with them and grow with them, if it's the Lord's will.
(Oh, and third, REST! A Shabbat where I can rest and not prep music, presentations, song lyrics, bring food, prepare teachings, setup sound equipment, lead services, talk to people for hours, pack up, empty garbages and sweep, vacuum and clean up? Oh man, Shabbat of REST here I come!)
Today was my last day at Tabernacle of David, and my service there to God and to God's people is now complete. Thanking God for these years of growth and maturity. And thank you, fine Kineti reader, for reading.
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