Please Turn in Your Songbooks to Number 571
One of my most vivid, and most admittedly bizarre, childhood recollections involves the hymn, “Trust and Obey.” When I was 3-4 years old, this was one of my favorite songs. It has a slightly martial rhythm and uncomplicated melody, and I absolutely adored it. Whenever we sang it at church (and probably at home), I would belt it out at the top of my small, yet already powerful, lungs to the delight my father, a bari-tenor who loved to sing and frequently led singing at our congregation.
However, on the particular occasion so ingrained in my memory, my father was a bit horrified with my ecstatic joy in singing “Trust and Obey.” It was either a Sunday or Wednesday evening service, and he had been tapped as the song leader. My sister Laura was still too young for evening church, and my mother was keeping her in the downstairs nursery. I couldn’t believe my luck! I was going to get to sit on the front row with Dad! For a daddy’s girl like me, there was no better treat. He was always proud of the way I sang out boisterously; little did I know that this time would be an exception.
For most of the service, I was able to contain my enthusiasm and just belted out the tunes. However, when he announced, “Let us be standing,” and sang the opening, “When we walk with the Lord...,” it was apparently too much exhilaration for my 3-4 year old constitution. I just couldn’t be still and started marching/dancing along with the martial, dotted rhythms, and by the time we reached the chorus, I must have really had my groove on. That is, until I looked up at the pulpit and saw the abject horror on my father’s face. Almost immediately one of the deacons raced down front to grab me and wrestle me back into a seat.
I was perplexed and confounded. I couldn’t wrap my brain around their strange behavior. After all, I was just giving God all the glory in song, right? I mean, “there [was] no other way to be happy in Jesus,” right? Well, I guess my father didn’t agree, because my bewildered bottom received a sound spanking once he was free of the service. “Trust and Obey” has never quite held the same allure since.
This also might explain why I’m such a terrible dancer...
However, on the particular occasion so ingrained in my memory, my father was a bit horrified with my ecstatic joy in singing “Trust and Obey.” It was either a Sunday or Wednesday evening service, and he had been tapped as the song leader. My sister Laura was still too young for evening church, and my mother was keeping her in the downstairs nursery. I couldn’t believe my luck! I was going to get to sit on the front row with Dad! For a daddy’s girl like me, there was no better treat. He was always proud of the way I sang out boisterously; little did I know that this time would be an exception.
For most of the service, I was able to contain my enthusiasm and just belted out the tunes. However, when he announced, “Let us be standing,” and sang the opening, “When we walk with the Lord...,” it was apparently too much exhilaration for my 3-4 year old constitution. I just couldn’t be still and started marching/dancing along with the martial, dotted rhythms, and by the time we reached the chorus, I must have really had my groove on. That is, until I looked up at the pulpit and saw the abject horror on my father’s face. Almost immediately one of the deacons raced down front to grab me and wrestle me back into a seat.
I was perplexed and confounded. I couldn’t wrap my brain around their strange behavior. After all, I was just giving God all the glory in song, right? I mean, “there [was] no other way to be happy in Jesus,” right? Well, I guess my father didn’t agree, because my bewildered bottom received a sound spanking once he was free of the service. “Trust and Obey” has never quite held the same allure since.
This also might explain why I’m such a terrible dancer...
posted by OperaBarbie @ 5:04 PM
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