I’m not a sappy person. I rarely ever cry during movies or when reading books. I don’t typically cry at weddings or funerals. But let me tell you about a scene that brought tears to my eyes. A picture that will be etched on my soul forever.
I was at a women’s conference a few years ago. I love women’s conferences. I love seeing women gathered together desiring to learn from God’s Word and to be transformed by His Spirit. I love seeing wise, gifted women teach, and I love seeing women in the audience sit under that teaching, excited to apply it to their marriages, their parenting, their work, and their friendships.
The funny thing about women’s conferences is worship time. I don’t mean to dishonor females here, but sometimes it’s funny when a bunch of ladies all sing together in the same room. First, it’s less common for women to play instruments such as the electric guitar or drums, so often the sounds we are used to when worshiping at church are missing from all-female worship teams. That’s not bad. Just different. Secondly, when two hundred women are singing together, the pitch always seems to creep higher and higher until everyone is trying to fake it as a soprano. I am not a soprano, nor am I good singer at all, so I struggle when the ladies around me sound like opera-singing angels.
At this particular conference, worship was lead by an all-female band. One lady was on the guitar in the back. I didn’t think much of her. She wasn’t the leader. She didn’t speak at all. She was singing, but I can’t remember if she even had a microphone. For most of the day, she was a hardly-noticeable presence strumming at the back of the stage. As the conference was drawing to a close, the speaker presented the gospel so clearly – an invitation for those who were seeking and a welcome reminder to draw near to Jesus to those who already knew Him. It was powerful.
And all of a sudden, the woman who had been leading worship all day began talking about the humble, unnoticeable guitar player behind her. She began to convey her story.
This woman, the guitar player, was recently divorced. She had four young children, and after ten or so years of marriage, her husband told her he wasn’t actually a Christian and left her all alone wth four kids to raise. The woman looked the part. She was probably in her late 30s, slightly overweight from bearing four kids, probably without the tools or time to take care of her own body as she invested in so many other lives. She looked a little frumpy and very tired, the burden of her husband’s rejection weighing upon her shoulders. She was weary. She was downcast. And yet, under the sadness you could sense her joy. She could probably had a million other things she could be doing on her Saturday, but here she was giving her whole day to play guitar for a women’s conference.
And suddenly, without another word, the guitar-playing women started to strum and sing. She didn’t even move forward. She didn’t come to the front of the stage where the main singer would usually stand. From her humble little spot in the back, she lifted up her voice. It was piercingly beautiful. “Worthy is the lamb who was slain…”
She belted out the words with such conviction:
Holy, holy, holy is the Lord God Almighty
Who was and is and is to come
With all creation I sing praise to the King of kings
You are my everything and I will adore You
I can’t even fathom the pain she must have suffered. I can’t imagine the weariness she must have felt raising four kids, day in and day out, on her own. I can’t comprehend the rejection and humiliation she must have felt when a marriage she believed in crumbled before her eyes, at no fault of her own.
And yet, she could sing.
Under the sadness, there was joy. Under the devastation, there was hope. Under the brokenness, there was redemption.
I hope to never experience what she experienced… the guitar-playing divorced mom of four. I pray she has found abundant healing and peace in the years since that conference. I am thankful she showed me truth from the back of that stage – truth I will never forget even though I can’t remember her name. No matter what I face in this life, I hope I can genuinely worship the Lord in any circumstance. That I can say, “I am broken, but I adore you, Jesus.” And someday I will worship with her again in heaven. She will strum the guitar and I will finally be able to sing on key. Together we will lift up a new song to the Lord… “Worthy, worthy, worthy, and holy is He.”
My goodness, this post brought tears to my eyes. You are truly a gifted and beautiful writer. Thank you for continually bringing me closer to the gospel, especially during these busy, tired days with two little ones, when getting to Bible study and church doesn’t always happen. I really appreciate your words.