So, in August I did a thing. A thing I’ve never done before. A thing I never expected to do. I want to tell you what that thing is.
But first you should know something about me. I love music. I’ve played the piano for as long as I can remember. I took lessons from my mom who was the church organist and taught piano on the side. I started learning the trombone in fourth grade. In college, our Symphonic Wind Ensemble needed a tuba player, so I learned that. Turns out that if you can play a trombone and a tuba, you can also play a baritone. So I played that too in some church brass ensembles. I wouldn’t say that I own a ton of instruments, but I do have a few: a piano, digital keyboard, harmonica, kalimba, acoustic guitar, electric guitar, trumpet, trombone, and bells (not handbells, but bells that look like separate pieces of a xylophone in a case). Some of those I don’t even know how to play. Yet.
As much as I love music, I’ve never been a good performer. I can preach a sermon to a crowd of a thousand and I’m fine. But put me on a piano bench to play a waltz in front of 20 people and I fall apart. I don’t know why. I’m just not meant to be a music performer.
But I’ve learned in the last few years that I fall into a different category and I’m growing used to a different title. It used to be that if I told someone “I play piano,” or if they heard me banging on one, I’d usually feel obligated to follow it up with a lengthy (and boring) explanation about what I can and can’t really do, why they shouldn’t ask me to play at church, and how I really love Rachmaninoff but I only remember a few snippets of this prelude or that variation, blah, blah, blah. Now if someone asks if I play an instrument, I just say, “Kind of. I’m not really a performer, but I am a songwriter.”
Don’t ask me to perform some polished piece on the spot. But give me some time and let me create, and I’ll make music.
I’ve been creating music since childhood. I’d experiment with chords, and mess around with little melodies. I started studying music more seriously in college, taking a class called “Composing and Arranging.” I took music theory classes for fun. I even resumed piano lessons again (it had been years since formal lessons, although I never quit playing). And when I was finishing up my college studies I wrote a song for Nicole that was used at our wedding. It was the first song of mine that was ever publicly performed.
I’ve been writing ever since. Music for solo piano, for a choir, hymns for church, pieces for brass ensembles, and more. But hardly any of it has ever been used in any public setting. And that’s ok. Some of it is “beginner quality” and isn’t worth performing. But I was writing, doing it because I loved it, while my poor family was probably getting sick of hearing me trying to bang out the same measures over and over while testing out different ideas.
Creating music became for me not an escape from the stresses of life and ministry, but the way to cope with it. It has helped me process grief, anger, love, joy, and everything in between. And faith. Faith in what God has done and is doing for us through Jesus—that faith is always there. A few minutes at the piano and I remember my raison d'etre: Christ crucified and raised for the world.
Even though I’ve always been creating music, when I got connected to a songwriter group a couple years ago, I felt like a phony. I’m not a performer. I can’t sing like some of them can. I don’t play the guitar like they can. I’m a pastor, not a worship director. They are saying things about microphones that I don’t understand. I was struggling with a severe case of imposter syndrome. And yet I loved the group. So I stayed. And they encouraged me beyond anything I expected.
I’ve been to two songwriting retreats now. After the second retreat, an uber driver was taking me to the airport and asked what I was doing in California. I said that I was here for a songwriting retreat. And he said something obvious: “So you’re a songwriter then?” And I should have said: “Yes!” But what I said was: “I guess so.” Imposter syndrome was still hanging on (barely). He replied: “Well, I guess someone’s got to write all those songs.” It was exactly then that I embraced my new title. I’m determined to add “songwriter” to any future bios.
I love traditional Lutheran worship. Not only was my mom the organist when I was growing up, but my father was the pastor, and I was in church all the time. So I feel that when I sing a Lutheran chorale (a.k.a. a hymn) I’m speaking my native language. But I also see the great value of music in contemporary, modern forms. Music has so much power, why not harness it as best we can as a servant of the Gospel? I see it as a continuation of the Reformation goal to put the Gospel in the language of the people.
It can be helpful to view it that way so we don’t stay at a level where we only argue about preferences, or argue out of fear that people will fall if we do or never believe if we don’t, or assume that a style automatically determines whether a song will have true doctrine or not. (That's just the perspective of one veteran who's been through the battle. And I'm still learning).
So, even though I tried to be a classical pianist like Rachmaninoff, or a hymn writer like Paul Gerhardt, or like Bach who excelled in the highest forms of both sacred and secular music, I ended up somewhere else. I’m finding my own niche in The Songwriter Initiative. I have to conclude this is God’s plan for me.
The Songwriter Initiative (TSI) is a great blessing to me and to the church. It is project of the Center for Worship Leadership (CWL) at Concordia University Irvine (CUI). The Songwriter Initiative’s website explains that it exists “to support modern songwriters serving within the LCMS church body and seeks to be a positive resource and influence for those writing for the church-at-large.” If you’re curious, you can explore more about CWL here, and specifically TSI here. I praise God for CWL’s TSI at CUI! (Have fun with that alphabet soup!)
TSI’s leader, Kip Fox, is not only a fantastically talented singer/songwriter himself (you can find ways to stream his new album Right Time here), but he is also a patient teacher, encouraging coach, faithful friend, and great blessing to the Lutheran church and beyond. He is writing great songs for the church. Even better than that, he is coaching the 100 (and climbing) people in the group to do the same, so the output is increasing exponentially.
Which brings me back to August, when I did a thing.
Then, it was a joy to share it with the other songwriters at the song share. And it was a surprising shock to me that CWL would want to take the song a step further by producing it. That means they wanted to professionally record it, create all the charts and sheets, and help share it when the song is ready to be released.
So I took off a few days in August, went to an actual, professional recording studio in Houston, met up with my cowriters and some other fellow songwriters and professional musicians, and we sang and played songs to Jesus. I had never done anything like that before. I’m not a performer, so I don’t have an itch to do that very often, but I learned a lot and had great fun. If you had told me two years ago that this would happen, I would not have believed you. I wasn’t even in the group yet, and certainly wasn’t even wearing the title “songwriter” yet.
I’m super excited to share this new song with the world. I believe it will be a blessing to you in your faith. The song won’t come out until early 2024, so I’ll tell you more about it when we get closer to its release.
For now, I want to thank the Director of TSI, Kip Fox, for all his encouragement and teaching.
And the Director of CWL, Steve Zank, for continuing his support for TSI. And all the (very!) generous donors to CWL that make all this possible.
For I desire to preach and teach,
to write and pray,
to sing and play
for the glory of God,
and the good of the Church.
Amen.
Jon
a husband, father, son, brother, pastor, songwriter, forgiven sinner, child of God.
truth + love
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