I hated singing in church

3 on Thursday

A weekly newsletter sharing songs, stories, and other things I’m working on.

November 7, 1996

Dear Daniel,

After my grandpa showed me all those chords and I took his guitar home, I set up a little spot in our living room and I’ve been practicing every day after school. I can’t say that I’m very good yet, but things are starting to make more sense, like how you strum the guitar evenly and make the changes. I am SUPER slow when switching chords.

Basically, I just look at the hymn book my grandpa gave me and I sing very softly to myself and pretend I’m accompanying myself.

I don’t like to sing. Actually, I kind of hate it. Well, it’s not that I hate singing so much as people listening. When I was really young, maybe starting around five or six, my parents made me and my two older sisters, Ingrid and Erica, sing together in church for Special Music. Do you know what Special Music is? I’m guessing not, since from everything I could find about you in the liner notes of your CD, it doesn’t seem like you’re a Christian. Or maybe you are, but you just don’t sing about Jesus. I’m not sure, but that’s just a guess.

Sorry, I’m not trying to pry or convert you or anything. Conversion is a big part of our faith, and you’re supposed to tell everyone you know about Jesus. It makes me extremely nervous because, while I believe all that stuff, I don’t like talking about it.

It really bothers me that I don’t like talking about it. Probably part of the reason is that none of my hockey friends were really into church like my family is. Most people just go to church on Sundays. Our family goes at least three times a week because my parents are so involved. My mom plays the piano for the worship singing. I know she’s called a PEE-an-ist, but it sounds so close to the male private part that I can’t bring myself to call her that. (Sorry, I’m still immature, I guess, haha!) My dad leads the singing, usually with a few other people like Ronnie and Ann, my friend’s mom and uncle. Anyway, there’s practice on Thursday nights. Plus there’s Wednesdays for Youth Group, which is church for kids, but you get to play dodgeball. And then Sunday mornings we get there early to set up chairs and everything, and then Ronnie and Ann and my mom and dad rehearse again. There’s usually a Sunday evening service where a missionary talks about eating bugs in Africa, or a regional musician sings to background tapes.

My point is that kids in hockey are sort of what we call “Sunday Christians.” We’re the type of Christians who don’t just go to church several times a week. We talk about God a lot. Not just at church, either. At home, too. And we pray a lot, like before every meal, even breakfast.

So if you don’t do that, it’s sort of assumed that you’re not a “real Christian.” But I’m not sure if I’m supposed to think of it like that or not. The thing I want you to know is that nobody at hockey prayed before breakfast or any meals when we were at restaurants for away tournaments. I tried to for a little while, but I felt very self-conscious and out of place, or like I was trying to be better than them or something. I just wanted to fit in, so I stopped doing that. To be honest, it made me feel guilty, like I was ashamed of God.

But anyway, since you probably don’t know what Special Music is, I’ll tell you that it’s a little bit weird because it’s like a mini talent show during the middle of church. It’s usually two songs, one during the offertory where they pass the plates out for money and the other right before the pastor gives the sermon.

Anyone can volunteer to perform for Special Music, but a lot of weeks nobody does. So my parents would often have me and my sisters sing. My mom would tell us about a week in advance that we were “on for Special Music” that week. I hated that she gave such an advance warning because I spent a lot of the week trying not to think about it. It made me so nervous. When I woke up in the morning or thought about it during the day, my stomach started hurting.

But the worst part about singing in front of people was that my face turned very red and it felt like my head was about to explode. I wasn’t afraid I would sing bad. That wasn’t the problem. I just didn’t like anyone watching. I knew everybody could tell from my red face that I was embarrassed, and it’s not like I could just run off. So I guess I sort of felt helpless.

To make matters worse, we always sat in the front pew because my dad said that nobody chooses to sit in the front pew.

“We’re not giving them a chance,” I’d think to myself.

So after singing, I’d have to stay in the front, and I could feel my ears burning and knew people could still see me and know I was embarrassed even though my face was the other way around.

When I got older, my parents stopped making me sing with my sisters. I don’t really remember how I was able to make that happen, but it might have been because I started having so many hockey tournaments on the weekends.

I guess I’m telling you all this because I’ve started to feel a little bit of this nervousness when I’ve been practicing the guitar in the living room. It’s not the guitar-playing part. I don’t seem to care too much about whether anyone hears me practicing. I think the problem is that since I’ve started singing quietly to learn these songs, the nervousness comes back and I feel very self-conscious. Is this normal?

What’s funny is, I don’t think I’ve ever felt like wanting to sing until now, but I have this weird relationship with it. I’m not sure if any of this is making sense, but I figured you might be able to relate somehow.

I’m going to ask my dad tomorrow if I can move into his old office in the basement. He never uses it anyway, so it would be nice to have some privacy and maybe a spot I could call my own. You might be asking yourself why I don’t just practice in my bedroom. The reason is I don’t have a bedroom. Well, technically I do, but it’s just a few shelves and a curtain in the upstairs hallway. So the problem is people could still hear me if I practiced there. We have a small house for six people, but I don’t mind it too much.

Love,
Aaron

Memoir in Progress

Earlier chapters:
Chapter 1: Quitting Hockey →
Chapter 2: Quitting Hockey (for Real) →
Chapter 3: The Guitar Lesson →

---

Past 3 on Thursdays · Listening Room · Play Near You · Sponsor an Issue