Sometimes, God asks me to do something, and my first reaction isn’t a fully committed, enthusiastic “Yes, Sir!”

Sometimes, it’s more of a hesitant, teeth clenched, “You want me to do what?!”

Sometimes I can’t say anything at all and I stand there with a sickening feeling resting in my intestines.

Ever feel like that?

My dilemma with Singing

People tell me I have a good singing voice. It’s not that I don’t believe them, well, not entirely that I don’t believe them. I love to sing. But it’s something that so many people have pressured me to do, so I guess I’ve adopted a sort of rebellious opinion on the matter. Plus, it’s freakin terrifying.

Sure, I can sing a little, certainly not well enough actually to do anything impressive, though. I’ll sing when I need to, and maybe when I want to—if I’m totally and completely alone or with someone I feel really safe with.

I feel like this even during worship on Sunday mornings. I worship, don’t get me wrong, but I always have to fight that little voice that tells me I’m being too loud—that I’m bothering the people around me, taking away from their worship.

When I said No to God

Once, a year or so ago, my church had a random Sunday when they needed someone to lead worship. The worship leader was out sick, and my pastor asked if I’d step up. I’m really ashamed to say I laughed, shook my head, and said, “No way!” He accepted my answer, but said that if I changed my mind, I should show up at 9 AM at church to practice. I shook it off, promptly forgot about it, and went about the rest of my day.

The next morning, I woke with a start at 7:30 AM. I sat up, confused why I would wake so early and so suddenly without an alarm on a weekend, when a thought crashed through my brain.

“I’m up early enough to have plenty of time to get ready for singing today. I should do that.”

Fear like ice grabbed my heart, and I slammed myself back into my pillow. No, no, no! I didn’t want to do that.

“Don’t ask me!” I hissed. “Don’t do it, God. I won’t do it. I’m saying no!”

“Okay,” I heard him whisper. I lay in bed for the next two hours trying to fall back asleep, but I couldn’t.

God respected my answer. He’ll do that when he asks you to do something. He’ll respect what you say. Conviction was a close friend to me in the following days, and finally, I repented of being disobedient in my heart, even if God never technically outright asked me to, I know his heart. I know he wanted me to.

I asked God to help me work up the courage to be able to say yes to things like that. I asked him for opportunities to say yes again.

We don’t always get second opportunities. When God brings something to you, sometimes, you gotta just say yes.

But this time, I got a second opportunity.

My friends host a worship night once a month during the Summer in their backyard. There are speakers, microphones, and lots of good food. It’s a grand time. I’ve always loved coming to those revival nights.

She asked me to lead worship and sing, and I felt that familiar sense of dread and fear. But I wasn’t going to outright say no this time.

“Sure, but I don’t want to lead. I’ll sing back-up, but maybe someone else can lead the songs.”

That was my loophole. Because as much as I wanted to be obedient, my fear was still greater than my faith that God would handle it. I asked my friend, the worship leader at my church, if she’d like to sing with me. After a brief conversation, she caught on to my loophole and said she’d only come if she could sing backup.

“God is calling you into something, and I’m not going to let you cower away from it,” She told me.

Get you some friends like that. Friends who won’t let you cower away from the call God has for you.

You’ll be pleased to know that I did lead worship. Ten whole songs and I only forgot the words twice. And guess what? It went great! I even had fun doing it. But there was something even better that happened after.

The Reward of Obedience.

I showed up to church the next day, sat in my seat, and got ready to worship. As the first song started, I waited for that familiar feeling to show up—that feeling that I was being too much or too loud. But as I sang, I felt something loosen in my vocal cords, and suddenly I realized, it wasn’t about that.

I knew, logically, worship was about singing praises to God. But for the first time in my life, I realized that I didn’t have to worry about whether I was bothering the people around me because my church doesn’t care if you’re too loud. I realized that I didn’t have to worry about upsetting anyone because everyone was too busy praising Jesus to pay any attention to me. I was free to sing to God because if anyone was paying attention to me—listening to see if I was on key, if I sang the words right, if I was too loud or pitchy—then it was their issue. All I should be concerned about is lifting my voice to God and praising Him. Everything else doesn’t matter!

I sang, and God set a part of my heart free—no more restriction, or fear, or sick anxiety in my stomach. I could sing, and I was free.

Sometimes, I wonder if God calls us into obedience not because He needs us to do something, but because He wants to set us free from something.

What’s God calling you into now? Let me know in the comments!

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