Every once in a while I like to run sound. And every once in a while, I like to run tech. And every lots of times in a while, I like to play guitar in worship, without leading. It just lends such perfect (although at times, unfortunate) perspective. ‘What do you mean there’s no sheet music?’ Oh. Wait. Did that this morning. ‘You mean I spent two hours learning this entire ‘epic’ (can we please not use that word anymore) 15 minute Hillsong live version, and now we’re cutting it because you don’t have ‘a peace’ about it? (Isn’t it interesting how many times a worship leader ‘not having a peace’ about a song, is directly related to their also ‘not having taken the time to learn the lyrics’ of a song, too? Right…I got ya…there’s a trembling in the spirit, no peace in your heart, a disturbance in the force, the pontificate of music…that’s Edge…oops…letting fantasies creep in here again…came to you in a dream and told you not to play it, ya we get it. You forgot the lyrics.) Oh. Right. I did that last Sunday to my team, too. Perspective is important.

Although to quote (not entirely) Spinal Tap at Elvis’ grave, sometimes you can have too much perspective. And usually that comes from running sound and tech. I like to do this every six months or so at special events at my church, with just the title of, ‘Hi. I’ll be taking care of you this morning.’ Perspective. Whoa. Tech people? Sound guys? You have all my love. Not sure if you wanted all my love, but you got it anyway. How do you guys deal every day with missing a slide change, because eleventy people have been coming back from the audience to the tech room, each with their own unique and not so subtle perspective on your ear for sound and your eye for lighting, and then having the speaker make a joke at your expense (and usually a pretty funny one, too…guest speakers at these special events are usually best-selling authors, and they have a way with words, I’ll give them that :) ), and then the whole audience laughs…meanwhile, you’re still trying to explain to a member of the audience (as they’re laughing at the missed slide joke, by the way), that wouldn’t it perhaps be a little bit distracting to bring the scissor lift in behind the speaker to change the one blue bulb that’s burnt out?

Tech teams, sound guys, and especially my tech teams, and my sound guys, I salute you. And not just in a, ‘Okay, I conceded that your job is difficult too, now…will you route more reverb into the keyboardist’s monitor…ya…just on my voice…no, I don’t care if he doesn’t want it, it creates a nice ambience to my ears as I sing and it wofts over to my side of the stage.’ Not just in that way. Many times, our sound techs and tech teams are the most talented and level-headed ones out there, with the best ears. So then we stick you behind the sound board and abuse you. Wait…is the level of abuse directly related to why my monitor seems to get quieter and quieter as the service goes on and I keep giving you high signs on how to change the front of house sound from my perfect sonic position behind the house speakers? Oh. I get it.