The Life of Church Music Brandon J. Morgan

"See you on Sunday, Brandon," Pastor Park says. After gathering my things, I shake his hand appreciatively and leave through the exit at side of the sanctuary. The pastor closes the broad, brown doors as best as he can, but they never quite meet due to years of strain. "97, 98, 99, 100." It is my ritual to count to 100 to ensure that he has definitely left the premises. I climb back up the steps, walking on the balls of my feet to minimize the squeakiness of the old wooden floors. Squeezing through the slightly ajar doors that Pastor tried so vehemently to close, I look to my left and then to my right. Scanning the sanctuary, I make sure the coast is completely clear.

I walk across the plush carpet and stare at the countless rows of auburn pews. Reaching the piano, I open the fallboard and play a rigorous C crescendo scale. This calms me before even starting to sing. Playing the four chords of Adele's "Rolling in The Deep" I sing the chorus, finally feeling released. I perform this ritual until exhausted from hearing it. Then the magic truly begins.

Gazing at the stained glass windows to my left, I commence singing the first line as tenderly as an infant's cheek. Then peering at the organ on the far right of the altar, the...