Last week is downtown LA in a crowded club off Sunset Boulevard, I stood in a dimly lit room watching The Lone Bellow fill the room with melodic poetry and stringed instruments. I swayed to songs I knew and hummed to songs I didn’t like a kid who carried a secret. In the dimly lit room off Sunset Boulevard, the common swayed with uncommon and the profane hummed the sacred.

See, The Lone Bellow isn’t a Christian band in the sense that they sing worship songs. However, that doesn’t mean they aren’t worshipful. The difference between the common and uncommon, sacred and profane is a simple understanding that we are reflections—living mirrors—of divine worship whether in cubicles, churches, or music clubs.

Zach Williams [who also is a worship leader at Trinity Grace Church in NYC] leads the trio vocally. But more than simply leading the trio, he leads those around him and invites others to join the experience. In a room full of LA people, some with drinks in hand, others who are “living in the scene” of Los Angeles life, I watched a man use his gifts and talents to reflect the Divine. He thumped his guitar three times to create a hallow beat, then sang out the simple bridge:

Teach me to know my number of days
Hold out my heart from getting carried

The phrase rang out not once, not twice, but three times repeatedly. The audience listened intently as the belted out with their instruments and filled the room with—with—what’s the word? Magic! Yes, it was magic.

Out there
Thousand years into the future
Almost nothing of it seems sure
Things so rarely stay the same

Right here
In these burning simple seconds
Living out all your best guesses
Someone’s calling out your name

The piano keys, the upright bass, the guitar, the drums, the lights, the sounds, the words. It was divine magic. Zach [I can call him Zach because we’re on a first name basis. We’ll, I am. He doesn’t even know I exist. But I digress.], belted out the bridge and lifted his left hand into the air like a conductor, like the choir director he was birthed to be. He motioned to us to join in and like the Munchkins of Oz, we all slowly approached the throne room of worship in club off of Sunset Boulevard.

There, next to the bar that served alcohol and the people living the LA scene, I sang out Psalm 39:4 like I was in church. No wait, like I was in chuuuuuurrrrrch [said like a soul sister on the front row of a Baptist church in Compton]! It was magic! People who would probably never set foot into a church were sings Psalms in a club. IN A CLUB. People, Jesus was in the house.

Since then I have been thinking about how we can use our gifts and talents in secular ways for divine glory. How do we allow the mundane of our lives reflect the divine? How can we make the common, uncommon? Use what’s in your hands.

David had a sling. Samson had a jawbone. Miriam had songs. A child had a lunch. A widow had oil.
And God did the rest to reflect his glory.

Here is a New York cityΒ public school teacher leading his students in my newest favorite Hillsong worship song. Yes, a worship song in a pubic school. What was in his hand? Music. How is used? To speak of God’s goodness, grace, and mercy in an environment that would otherwise never been exposed.

And this? This right here? This is magic.

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