Hands+tears.
Yeah that makes a whole lot of sense.
That sounds like someone cupping their hands together and someone cried into that little bowl they made out of their hands.
Well you could look at it that way, but we're not here to tell you about someone catching tears. It's a little bit more then that.
A couple of months ago, if I went to church, I expected to have a *pleasant* time, write some notes from the sermon, and stand up during worship. Well, I usually had a pleasant time. Sure, I'd rather be somewhere else but I got to see my friends afterwards so it's all good. I always wrote notes. I never didn't write notes. Of course, I never touched my notes past 1:00 on Sunday afternoon. I always had comments about worship. Either the electric guitar was to loud, the songs were all the same, the worship leader was boring, the singers couldn't sing, the singers were off, and the pianist couldn't play the piano.
And I didn't really care about what the songs were saying. I'd heard them a million times, I knew them, I didn't even think about them when they rolled off my tounge, I was really listening to the instruments for a slip-up. I was going to find fault with anyone who came up to give a word of prophecy. And you know what, no one cared. Not many people knew, but those who did, didn't really give a hoot.
I was a kid. My parents were closing their eyes and singing. I might've closed my eyes once or twice, but I sure wasn't thinking about the godly truths I was singing. I wasn't even a teenager. I didn't know, right? And I didn't care.
Yeah that makes a whole lot of sense.
That sounds like someone cupping their hands together and someone cried into that little bowl they made out of their hands.
Well you could look at it that way, but we're not here to tell you about someone catching tears. It's a little bit more then that.
A couple of months ago, if I went to church, I expected to have a *pleasant* time, write some notes from the sermon, and stand up during worship. Well, I usually had a pleasant time. Sure, I'd rather be somewhere else but I got to see my friends afterwards so it's all good. I always wrote notes. I never didn't write notes. Of course, I never touched my notes past 1:00 on Sunday afternoon. I always had comments about worship. Either the electric guitar was to loud, the songs were all the same, the worship leader was boring, the singers couldn't sing, the singers were off, and the pianist couldn't play the piano.
And I didn't really care about what the songs were saying. I'd heard them a million times, I knew them, I didn't even think about them when they rolled off my tounge, I was really listening to the instruments for a slip-up. I was going to find fault with anyone who came up to give a word of prophecy. And you know what, no one cared. Not many people knew, but those who did, didn't really give a hoot.
I was a kid. My parents were closing their eyes and singing. I might've closed my eyes once or twice, but I sure wasn't thinking about the godly truths I was singing. I wasn't even a teenager. I didn't know, right? And I didn't care.
What was going on with me wasn't just an uninterest. It wasn't the worship teams fault. It wasn't the soundboard-runner-guy's fault. I didn't want to please God. I didn't want to worship. I didn't care.
I really didn't care.That was several months ago. Since then, God has revealed himself to me in more ways then I ever thought could happen.
The real point of hands+tears is just this: talking to kids about worship.
There are more posts coming soon. Please check back, and spread the word.
Handsplustears.blogspot.com
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