*** Update since original post***
The accompanying video is no longer available on youtube - all the hits musta done 'em in. Sorry 'bout yer luck, but I could probably direct you to a church or two from my childhood that could show you similar talent, minus any reference to dancing, which was of the devil, of course. That is, if yer innerested.
Growing up in a legalistic - oops, I meant conservative holiness - environment, the music choices that were allowed to reach our impressionable ears were a wee bit limited. We had copies of our church hymnal on our piano. We could tune in to the classical radio station if we were inclined. In Michigan, we could listen to Family Life Radio, which was mostly programs like Focus on the Family and Back to the Bible. In Ohio, we could usually listen to WPOS. WPOS was southern gospel. The Cathedrals, Gold City Quartet, Kingsmen - you haven't lived till you've sat on the front row of a Cathedrals concert, let me tell ya! Boy, when ol' George Younce rared back with his throat growling those low notes on Beulahland - you felt like you got your $5 worth!
(You might think I'm being my typical sarcastic self here, and while you're correct, I actually do have a soft spot in my heart for a few southern gospel groups, including the Cathedrals. Every once in a while, I'll listen to a song or two, if only to remind myself of some of the hilarious days my best friend Annette and I had in high school.)
My music tastes have evolved over the past twenty or so years, and while Jesus Christ doesn't change, the style in which I prefer to celebrate His constant presence in my life most assuredly has taken a different direction.
Anyone who knows me in the smallest way most likely is aware of my intense dislike of emotionally-charged religious experiences, including crummy church signs and pithy lyrics to Christian songs. I just have a horrible time tolerating these two issues, for some reason. They bring out the worst in me - they blind me when I'm driving - they cause me to yell unkind words at the inhuman object, which most people refer to as a radio, in my dashboard - they make my kids howl with devious laughter if they hear an inane song or view an unacceptable sign before I do, because they know it's going to cause me to look for the nearest cliff and ponder jumping. (We live in Northwest Ohio - I haven't been successful with the cliff thing yet.)
Every once in a while, Tom and I will make use of our local southern gospel radio station. (He more than I, because it isn't good for my blood pressure to be listening very often to somebody wailing' about Recalling the Dinner Bell Mama Used to Call Them for Supper as it Relates to Being Called to Glory in the Great Beyond Someday GloryHallelujahPraisetheNameofGuawwwdD.) This station isn't WPOS. WPOS was at least the Upper Class of southern gospel. When this station says "local", they mean "local". It's Bro. Hardy and Sis. Hicks. It's whiny. It's twangy. It's bad country music, on steroids. It's anyone who has an acoustic guitar, a pin-striped suit, a bad haircut and Jesus. And it works wonders for convincing your kids that you've done gone and lost your ever-lovin' mind!
One of our children - and we'll mention no names - had an attitude problem one day. S/He had to take a ride with Dad, in Dad's poor little tri-toned, dented, bumper-stickered Ford Festiva. When Dad and said child returned home, Dad said "I made him/her listen to the southern gospel station full blast the whole time." This station is so southern gospel, I even felt sorry for the little mite.
Today, I found an even better way to let our light shine! After happening upon this little gem, I shared it with Tom. We then shared it with Bucky. The three of us then shared it with Preston and Savannah. In all seriousness, we told them that we had received an email from our pastor saying that our praise and worship team at church was going to be changing the format of our services, and we would now be participating in this type of song programming. Our friend Mark would be the leader. The pastor was inviting us to attend a seminar to learn how to perform. We were convincing enough that Savannah declared an instant demand to relocate to another church, and Preston just gaped at us..."WWWHHHYYYYY???!!??" followed by "I'll walk to Mars before MARK would ever do that!!"
So it is without further ado, that I present to you - a concept I learned of via a Crummy Church Signs link to Ragamuffin Soul. (For further interesting reading, google The Way International - I'll stick with my church, thank you!)