I sang a solo in church this morning. I used to sing quite a but, but a year or so ago I stopped. Not really a conscious decision at first; I just felt the Lord nudging me to focus on other things. But our church recently lost several prominent figures in the music department, and when my friend asked if I’d be willing to fill a hole in the special music schedule, I agreed.

Over the past week I’ve felt the twinge of nerves. I never used to be anxious about singing, but it has been over a year since I’ve sung to any audience bigger than my grandchildren. My voice is bound to be rusty. What if I got up there and croaked like a frog? And then I felt silly for being nervous. After all, mine would be only a tiny part of the worship service. The focus is not on me – it is on the Lord. I prayed that He would keep that thought foremost in my mind, and help me not to be nervous.

Still, during the first hymn of the morning, I found myself singing with gusto – not necessarily in worship, but to keep my voice warmed up before my song. To “blow out the pipes,” as my former director used to say. That is, until I noticed the little boy in the chair in front of me. He had his finger plugged in the ear closest to me. Obviously, he didn’t appreciate my ability to project my voice to the corners of the sanctuary.

I got tickled and started to laugh. It was like the Lord telling me, “You are not the star of the show this morning. I am. Relax!” I couldn’t sing another note through the rest of that hymn because I couldn’t stop laughing at myself. But you know what? My nerves evaporated. Nothing like a good chuckle at your own expense to break the tension, huh?

The song went well, not because of me, but because I put the focus where it belonged – on God. And as I sang the words to “In Christ Alone,” I was struck by how true they are in every situation in my life, whether it be writing or speaking or singing.

In every victory
Let it be said of me
My source of strength
My source of hope
Is Christ alone.