I met him when his father, Mike, became the pastor at our
church. He was the same age as our oldest son and just as mischievous. When
they were together on the farm, I never knew whether to be thankful they were
outside and occupied or worried that they might burn the barn down. Let’s just
say there were some broken barn windows because some young boys were having a
rock throwing contest.
Our families were close and I loved serving under his father’s
leadership. His mom, Debbie and I spent countless hours in prayer over ministry
and our families. And when his father
was called to shepherd a flock in Kentucky it was one of the most difficult
losses I’ve endured outside of my family. Over the next few years they came
back and pastored our church and then left yet again for Tennessee to serve a
church and be closer to their family.
Only this time Branden didn’t go with them.
He stayed in Michigan, finished college, married and settled
down. Today, he still attends the church where his father took a courageous
step to revolutionized corporate worship and bring Believers out of religiosity
and into a relationship with Jesus Christ.
While Pastor Mike’s gift was preaching, he couldn’t carry a
tune in a bushel basket, bless his heart. But Branden can do that and more as
he serves on the worship arts team at Grace Church. He straps on his guitar,
stands up to the mic and ushers people into the Throne room as he humbly leads
worship. And on occasion, when I’m not out of town, I have the privilege to
stand next to Branden and sing with him.
I’ve been singing longer than Branden has been alive. I was
singing in church when Branden was in diapers in the nursery with my kids. When
I was younger I could memorize all the lyrics to the songs we sang, today, my
foggy memory is lucky to remember my own name. I stumble over words, and when
asked to lead a song, there are times when I totally mess it up. When these
moments happen the feelings of incompetence flood my soul and negative self-talk
takes over.
“Why am I still up
here singing with these young people?”
“I can’t even remember
the words!”
“I’m too old for this.”
“They only let you
sing because they are being nice.”
A couple of months ago, this happened again in rehearsal. As
the song continued, I looked over at Branden to offer an expression of apology.
He met me with a reassuring nod and I could hear Pastor Mike’s voice softly
saying, “Keep going, you’re doing fine.” Suddenly, my mistake didn’t seem so
awful and I continued with confidence. In that single moment, I saw that once mischievous
little boy transform into a man of God with a leadership style that mimicked his
daddy’s.
Sure.
Confident.
Encouraging.
Trusting.
Branden’s daddy passed away a month ago. He was loved and
cherished by every single person who knew him. We cried for our loss but
celebrated Heaven’s gain.
And now on the Sunday mornings when I serve on the Worship
team beside Branden, I marvel at how God has intertwined our lives together. I
have the joy of standing next to the little rock-chunking boy turned praise-singing
servant following a path that only God could predesign.
I miss Pastor Mike.
I miss my friend Debbie.
But I am grateful for the opportunity to serve alongside
their son Branden, and watch him as he grows in stature, honoring his God in
service to Him.
