For better (and sometimes worse) as worship leaders, we have the best seat in the house: looking out on our brothers and sisters in Christ as they sing to God and to one another the truths that animate our faith.
We see the faces of those we love, and those we find hard to love. We see the joys and sorrows of stories shared and burdens borne together as the people of God. These are the interactions as a worship leader that fuel our own worship and devotion, that unite our hearts to fear God’s name and unite our hearts to His people.
But from our vantage point, we can also see those who look like the live-action version of the flat-eye emoji.
Arms crossed.
Scowl.
Refuse to sing.
Staring through you.
Those are the faces that have made me want to stop mid-song and sentence and say “You know I can see you, right?”
And why do they always seem to sit in the front row? Ha!
While I am conscious of the fact that I am leading the people of God, when those faces fall into view, I have to intentionally remind myself: whose face am I looking for here?
Whose face do I desire to see?
Whose gaze is on me - not just on my external activity, but down to the ground of my being, who sees me, knows me, loves me, through and through?
In these moments I am tempted toward fixation: what do I need to do to make that person change their face or posture? I am tempted toward spiral: why do they hate me?
But rather than fixate or spiral, I am learning to pray with the Psalmist:
“You have said, “Seek my face.” My heart says to you, “Your face, LORD, do I seek.”” Psalm 27:8