Practical, hands-on training and support for church bands. 

A group of us from the Lakeshore Area of West Michigan meet once monthly over lunch to trade stories, support each other, and figure out how to do church music better.  If you're interested in joining us, hit the 'Contact Me' button, and I'll get you the details.   

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Entries in church music director (2)

Wednesday
Apr142010

Who in the world wants this job?

You must know why you do this. 

When I was dating my soon-to-be wife seven years ago, my prospective father-in-law said, "So, you're a church music director.  That a part time job?"  He had no idea.  And to be fair, how would he know?  

I love the TV show 'Dirty Jobs', and I always end up saying, "I never knew somebody had to do all THAT!"   Church music directing is like that.   So again I say:

You must know why you’re doing this. 

Church music directing pays poorly (sometimes not at all), the hours are long, and the frustration level is high.  Not only that, but the turnover rate is high among church staffs (staves?) in general, and churches change direction like a paper bag in the wind.  It’s okay to have mixed motives—everybody does.  But if you don’t really know why you’re doing this—or worse, you’re lying to yourself—then you’re setting yourself up for frustration and failure. 

Here’s my (not exhaustive) list of legitimate reasons to be a church music director:

  • You're good at it, and it's better than working in a factory
  • You want to further the cause of Christ by elevating the level of music in church
  • You have a passion for helping people connect to God through music. 
  • There's no one else at your little church who can do it, so you're pitching in.
  • You can't imagine doing anything else.
  • It's a way to make money and serve the Kingdom at the same time.
  • God has called you to do it.
  • It's a career you've always wanted to pursue.

 Here’s my illegitimate list:

  • Your church music department SUCKS, and you have to fix it.
  • You want control over the way things go.
  • You love the attention.
  • You know better than everyone else.
  • Your music will change the way everyone does church.
  • Your church will fail if they don't do the music right, and you're the only one who sees it clearly.
  • God will like you better if you work for the church.
  • Joining the church staff puts you on the inside.

You get the picture.  Here’s why I bring this up:  sooner or later (if it hasn’t happened already) you’re going to be treated unfairly.  This is a foundational truth, an undeniable tenet of church music directing.  You’d better know ahead of time how you will respond when:

  • The church adds a Saturday night service and expects you and your band to perform at exactly the same level. 
  • The Committee-That-Decides-Stuff—with three week’s notice—decides there will be a Summer Concert Series, featuring your music department.
  • The worship song you wrote when you thought your spouse might have cancer—the song that everyone loves—is discontinued because the elders feel the congregation shouldn’t dwell on such dark issues. 
  • You’re told (by the pastor and elders who went to a church growth conference without you) that drums and guitars are critical to your church’s growth strategy, and that they will be featured on every single song from now on.
  • The budget is slashed (again), and your administrative assistant will be let go.  Every program you started because you had extra help will be expected to continue as before.
  • You’re asked to work extra hours for no extra pay.

The bigger the church, the more likely something like this will happen, because folks, it’s a little nutty out there.  Yes, you should work with your superiors (*see below) to build a good working relationship.  Yes, they should do the same.  But it doesn’t always work that way.  Do your best to make it good, but don’t, don’t, don’t assume that it’s going to be like starting a club with your best friends.  It won’t be. 

Maybe your situation is working absolutely great for you.  If so, and I say this with all sincerity, good for you.  Bask in it.  Thank God for it.  Don’t take it for granted.  Just be aware that churches are fertile ground for political maneuvering, backroom deals, and people who hear from God and aren’t afraid to tell you so.  Everyone’s read a book, everyone’s an expert. 

Listen—church work isn’t for everyone.  Some people aren’t suited for it temperamentally, or for a variety of reasons, but you will not hear that talked about at any church seminar.  I routinely heard this, or some variation of it, at practically every conference I attended:

 ”If you’re in a position as a church music director, it’s because God called you to it.  If God has called you to it, He’ll equip you.  You just need to work harder and smarter.”

I even asked one time, “Okay, so what if you just really feel like quitting?”  The guy really didn’t have an answer.  So before you and I go any farther, I’m going to give you permission to think that maybe this just isn’t for you.  Or maybe it’s good for now, but not forever.  Be happy.

Next:  How I did not take my own advice, and ended up burned out. 

*I steadfastly maintain that I have no superiors, and very few equals.

 

 

Tuesday
Sep162008

First Day at The Big Church

Prayer meetings, theological discussions, personal support--that's what I expected from church work. The luxury of time and space devoted to making really great music. I envisioned sitting with guitar and piano, collaborating with Phil (my friend and new boss), cooking up really cool musical stuff. My first day in the office I expected a long conversation about what we did, why we did it, maybe some talk about ideas for new direction now that I was there.

I was wrong.

I was there 15 minutes and Phil said, “Here's what we do.” He grabbed a stack of photocopied music and literally ran to the front office. Not hurried, not walked fast – ran. When I caught up he already had the music in the hopper of the photocopier.

“Here's how you copy the music to be sent out. You stick it in the top here, punch in how many copies to make, then hit start. While that's running, you grab manila envelopes, which are kept here.”

“How many will we need?”

“Just grab a handful.”

I grabbed a handful and hoped it was enough. Marsha the Receptionist, early 60's (age, not style...well, both) walked in. “Is this our new boy?” She gave me a sideways hug. “We're excited to have you here! Gonna give our Phil some much-needed help, I hear.”

Phil took the stack of copied music and trotted back down the hall. I slipped out of Marcia’s hug and followed, trying to catch what Phil was saying over his shoulder.

“We try and send the music out at least 10 days in advance, so people have time to look it over. We also send out cassette tapes of everything in the envelopes.”

He veered into the conference room, sat down at the empty table and began stuffing the music into envelopes. I would have helped, but he was going so fast.  When he was done he grabbed everything and walked back into our office. The empty envelopes he handed to me, and began popping cassettes into the full ones, from a stack on his desk. When he was done he stood up wordlessly and started again for the front office. I grabbed the empties and followed him.

From a filing cabined he pulled out a folder.

“Here are labels for all the musicians and singers.”

He was out the door again, and Marsha held out her hand for the empties I was still holding. “I'll take those.” She nodded toward Phil's office and said, “Good luck keeping up with him.” There was a look in her eye I couldn't quite interpret: admiration? Awe?

Back in the conference room Phil peeled labels from the sheet, apparently from a list in his head, and slid each one onto an envelope in one quick motion. Wetting with his tongue, he sealed the envelopes and banged them into a square stack.

“That,” he said with a smile of satisfaction, “Is what we do!” He seemed to be expecting me to say something. When I didn't, he said, “The list of songs for the 16th is on my desk. I have a lunch meeting in 20 minutes.”

I looked over the list of upcoming songs...liked that one, didn't like that one...wondered if there was room to make some changes, and wondered when he and I would sit down and start talking about new songs. The next day I found out how the new songs were picked. How, in fact, the services where actually put together – a committee.

The next morning, with a can of coke in hand and my shirt untucked, I sat at the conference table with a group of 7 or 8 sweaters and stainless travel mugs, Franklin Planners open to today's date, and a tin of Altoids making it's way around the table. This was the creative team. The mood was jovial and scarily corporate, and when somebody excused herself to get more coffee before the meeting started, I ran to my office and grabbed a legal pad and pen. I was clearly unprepared.

That pace never let up.