The loudest worshiper in our church was also the one everyone wished would stay quiet.
She said things like “Amen!” and “Thank you Jesus!!”
No one else in the room spoke that freely....ever.
She was new and different and joyful.
One Sunday I saw the woman in front of her turn around and stare.
Not a curious look either...
A hard one. She spun around every time that woman opened her mouth.
It beat me to the punch.
My first thought was not celebration.
It was embarrassment.
I worried visitors might think we were strange.
The pastor met with her at the request of the deacons.
She kept right on praising every week after that.
One morning she shouted “Thank you Jesus” during a point that cut right to her heart.
Half the room tightened up.
I noticed many shift in the pew as if praise had no place in a sanctuary.
The room grew quiet. She stayed loud.
That was when it hit me.
She was not interrupting the service.
She was interrupting our tradition.
And the real problem was not her voice.
It was my fear.
I had been more worried about our comfort than her worship.
I worried about appearances more than Scripture.
More worried about preserving the style of the room than letting joy break into it.
Maybe God did not send her just to test the church.
Maybe he sent her to wake me up.
Because every church takes notes.
Not on the sermon outline.
On the hearts of the people in the pew.
I learned that day that quiet can be a tradition.
And sometimes God puts one loud saint in the room to remind you what praise is supposed to sound like.
Let your church be the place where joy is welcomed instead of managed.