What’s (often) wrong with worship music

A friend of mine shared this with me, and I found it useful enough, at least as a minimum, for considering new songs to add into one’s repertoire.

[T]he fault lies partly with the worship leaders who choose drivel and, by force of personality and microphone, force the congregation to sing it; and, even more culpably, with the elders who say and do nothing about it, preferring a smorgasbord of new and catchy melodies to the weighty and substantial songs which will actually teach sound doctrine to those who love Jesus, and preach the gospel to those who don’t.

Read more here.

We don’t come to church to be a church

Found on Facebook this morning:

“We don’t come to church, to be a church. We come to Christ, and we are built up as a church. If we come to church just to be with another, one another is all we’ll get. And it isn’t enough. Inevitably, our hearts will grow empty, and then angry. If we put community first, we will destroy community. But if we come to first and submit ourselves to him and draw life from him, community
gets traction.” – C.S. Lewis

Posted by Mark Spence on Sunday, September 27, 2015

63rd MESTD

I had an awesome time this past weekend up on the mountain. Originally I was just going to help out with the reconciliation ceremony, then I was also asked to give a rollo on study the next day, and ended up helping out as a part time table leader.

While there, I was able to record this snippet of the men singing De Colores:

Getting out of the Army

We got married on 16 Oct 08 after running back and forth between the embassy and Jongno-gu office several times. Amidst much drama at work, we signed papers and were officially wed. Almost six months later, our families joined in ceremonial celebration behind the Dragon Hill Lodge in Yongsan, on a day that couldn’t be more perfect in every way.

In eighteen days I will no longer be in the Army, the highlight and culmination of nearly two years stationed on the Korean peninsula. Instead, I will work in a civilian capacity at Camp Humphreys.


Before I left the United States to go to Korea, my first sergeant and commander joked that I’d be married when I returned. Today is September 11, 2008. I asked Jisu to marry me a month and two days ago.

It was a Friday night down in Seoul in a bar near where Jisu lives. Somehow the conversation turned to what might happen when I have to leave the country. We both knew when we started dating that this time would come, that we’d eventually have to come to grips with our future, together. Let me back up.

In 2003 after I had enlisted, that is, signed the papers, and was awaiting a ship date, there was a girl I had liked that I never pursued because I knew I was leaving for the Army. I kicked myself later for my actions, and the lesson I learned was, “seize the day.” Before her, I had a short-lived relationship that dwelt upon me virtually idolizing her, and ultimately getting shit upon. The moral of the story: don’t put them on pedestals. Before that – and maybe I’m skipping, but it doesn’t matter because I’m where I am today – a failed relationship lasting almost fourteen months taught me to take care of myself first before attending to the needs of others.

Back in February when we met at the hash, I noticed her friendly attitude and love of Miller Lite. In March, I discovered her sense of humor and kindness of heart, all the while trying to get her to hang out. When we started dating later that month, I found out she had said a final good-bye to a three-year boyfriend in order to be with me. “I know what I want,” she assured me. I think she could sense I wasn’t fooling around, either.

Fast-forward to a month and two days ago in that bar, I knew she was the one. I could look at that face every second of every day for the rest of my life, and although I’d have to blink once in a while and take occasional naps, I’d never grow tired of it. Even so, seeing her with my eyes is fiddlesticks compared to the richness of her character and warmth and love. And so I came to the conclusion that I could never live without her, and it boggles my mind to think, how did I even exist before now?

So when we reached a consensus on this, I asked her if I could maybe borrow a ring of hers, one that preferably fits her left ring finger, or did she want to go ring shopping sometime? I was amazed at myself how easily the words spewed forth from my lips, and I immediately questioned myself, “did I just say that?” My thoughts were quickly silenced when I saw the look on her face, and a clear drop emerge from the corner of her eye as her face lit up, realizing what I had inferred.

She left the design business up to me.

The next day she visited me at Camp Hovey, and I couldn’t wait any longer. Even without a ring to give, I got on two knees and asked her to marry me with only an intangible verbal assurance to make good on my promise. She said yes, but I had to ask twice more as I held her, just to make sure.

On August 29, I finally put a ring on her finger. Everything she does, every little hint of her existence on this earth only deepens my love and affection for her. Even at Bennigan’s the other night for dinner, when she said, “when we get married, you know, some days, you will hate me,” honestly, it only makes me want to marry her more.

I can’t help but sometimes ponder over every little circumstance and decision in my life that has brought me to this moment, here, twenty seven years in the making. Countless, infinite little personal “transactions” were made over the course of my life, shaping my person, character, and motivation, carrying me to where I am today.

When my grandfather saw a picture of the two of us on Jeju, he couldn’t pry his eyes away. He remarked, “I think God sent Erich to Korea just so he could meet this girl.”

I couldn’t agree more.