For Wilshire Baptist Church
Sitting with the Wilshire Winds at the front of the sanctuary on Sunday morning, I had the unique experience of having the children’s choir standing right behind me while I faced their director, Candy McComb, leading them from the first pew. From that position, I heard young voices and watched Candy’s face as she mouthed each word they were singing:
“Almighty Creator and Lord of all, I come to You today.For all of the blessings You’ve given to me, I sing this song of praise.”
It brought back memories of my own days in the children’s choir, watching the director’s face for the words on her lips to reinforce my nervous, shaky memory as we sang each line.
I find it interesting that youth and adult choirs get to sing with the music and words in their hands but children don’t. I know that’s because children are still learning to read, and I suspect that papers or song books in their little fidgety hands might become distractions. So, at that age they sing from memory and by reading the lips of their director. They also can see her eyes twinkle and a smile cross her face when they nail a phrase or a note. In that way, they get information they need in the moment and encouragement for the future.
At that age, children will mimic and repeat almost anything they see and hear. And as it turns out, so will adults. That’s the only explanation I have for all the ugly noise that is spoken and repeated and echoed from every corner.
Which begs the question: Whose lips are you reading, whose words are you repeating? There are a lot of bad “songs” being sung in the world today and too many people are reading lips and repeating the same ugly music. The chorus is shrill and dissonant, and people are singing so loudly that they can’t hear how off-key and off-rhythm they have become.
But children? There’s still time to teach them the words to songs that are healthy, helpful and healing. Church is still a good place to share verses of faith, hope and love that will last a lifetime and will even dampen the temptation to join the awful cultural chorus.
One last thing: As I listened to the children singing, I realized that perhaps the only reason I was sitting near them at age 62 with a saxophone in my lap was because I too had stood in a choir at the front of a church when I was six. It was there that I first learned to appreciate music — all music — by listening, watching, reading lips and singing.