Holy {Conviction}

I have a confession to make.

Please promise to still love me after you read this.

I really don't like David Crowder's music.

{Hiding from your look of utter horror and disdain.}


I do believe I am the only person in my age bracket to have EVER uttered these words, and I've tried ever so hard to refrain from putting them in print for two reasons. 1. I'm afraid David will Google his name and find this blog post...and let's face it. No one wants to read that someone isn't a fan of their life's passion...and 2. I work at a radio station, so I always feel extreme guilt anytime I don't care for an artist. I feel a sense of necessity to love all music equally because of my job.

But I am making the confession today because of something that happened Sunday...that I felt was worthy of a blog post.

Now and then, we sing some Crowder songs at church and I'm typically the one who just stands quietly during said songs because...you know...not a fan.

Sunday morning, during worship practice, the team started belting out his Holy song...and I shot Ryan a look from my spot in the front pew, where I was journaling and reading blogs. He flashed one of those smiles I can't resist and I rolled my eyes.

And not ten minutes later, they were working on a second song...one that has currently escaped me. Really? Two in one practice???

When church began, our worship leader, Sara {the same Sara who was in our wedding} stood before us and asked us to be brave enough to let God interfere with our worship. She had an empty chair placed at the front of the church and asked us to imagine God sitting in that chair...and asked us to worship Him in whatever way we felt led.

Then she returned to the piano and began to play Holy. In typical Bekah-rebellion, I stood quietly in my pew, not singing along...but to honor her request, I did listen to the lyrics as I stood.

And suddenly my eyes were full of tears and my heart was overrun with warm Presence and conviction rushed through me. I could hear so many voices {many were probably the teens who adore Crowder songs} singing loud and full...so full that it was hard to distinguish the praise team above them. My lip trembled and I bit it hard, closed my eyes, and truly worshiped.

To a Crowder song.


The song ended and I sat in my pew with my head in my hands, aware that my own personal preferences had been keeping me from a blessing...and that is a shame.

A few minutes later we stood together again and sang a hymn. I grew up on hymns. I don't even need the hymnal most Sundays because I was reared to know all four verses by heart...and yet as we sang a song I deemed likeable...I noticed the loud, full singing had dwindled to quiet murmuring and I could easily hear the worship team again. The songs people beg to sing because they're known...were delivered without much passion.

And for the rest of the service, the words to that Crowder song hung heavily over me...and I was aware God had indeed interfered with my worship...

...in an absolutely magnificent way.