Why Do You Do What You Do?

A heart-check for every worshipper inspired by Psalm 96

For years I chased the spotlight—one instrument at a time

I began my musical journey on the church drums. The moment a more skilled drummer showed up, I slid over to guitar, then bass, and eventually piano, each time hoping this would be the platform where I’d finally shine. In our congregation there were no “teams”; the most talented simply took the seat, and the rest of us waited for their vacation days. My motivation? If I’m honest, it wasn’t just to serve; it was to prove I belonged.

The night everything short-circuited

Selected to lead worship for the women’s service, I set up my keyboard and mic, eager to debut my fresh sound. Seconds into the opening hymn, the keyboard went dead. I took hold of a guitar; however, just as I was about to begin the chorus, the third string broke. Embarrassed and ashamed, I considered slinking back to my seat when a quiet voice within whispered, “Sing to Me now.”
In that moment every self-promoting motive dissolved. I sang, voice only, as though God were the only person in the sanctuary. Afterwards people spoke of an “anointed” service, but all I could replay was that internal directive: Sing to Me now. From that day forward, I began to pose a question that ensures my heart remains sincere: “What is the purpose behind my actions?” or, like the title says, Why Do You Do What You Do?

Psalm 96:7-9—God’s universal call to pure worship

“Ascribe to the Lord, all you families of nations,
ascribe to the Lord glory and strength.
… Worship the Lord in the splendor of His holiness;
tremble before Him, all the earth.” (vv. 7-9)

Three brief scholarly notes sharpen the focus:

Together they strip worship of ego and elevate its true audience.

A practical heart-check for creatives, musicians, and leaders

1. Motive audit: Before you pick up the mic, spreadsheet, or paintbrush, ask, “Who am I hoping notices this?”
   
2. Audience of One rehearsal: Practice in private as if that hidden place were the main stage. Public ministry will inherit the same posture.
   
3. Offer the whole instrument, including failure: Broken strings and silent keyboards can become holy sabbaticals that redirect attention to God.
   
4. Invite accountability: Find trusted mentors who can gently flag when your spotlight grows brighter than His.
   
5. Return to Psalm 96: Let its rhythm, offering, and reverence guide your inner timing.

Closing thought

The night my gear failed wasn’t sabotage; it was surgery. God removed my need for applause, so real worship could breathe. Next time you serve, pause and whisper, “Lord, this is for You alone.” When that becomes your reason, every platform, great or glitchy, turns into holy ground.