I had the privilege of leading worship at Woodmen Valley Chapel’s Woodmen Heights Campus this last Sunday.  Woodmen Valley Chapel is a megachurch in Colorado Springs that takes a unique approach to multi site campuses.  Instead of just piping in the speaker to another venue, WVC does different elements of the service from each of the 2 campuses.  I’ve seen this done on occasion where a pastor will give a welcome from one campus and then another pastor will give the message from another campus, but WVC takes it a step further.  They actually have the worship leader at one campus lead both campuses in a few songs, and then they throw it over the other campus where the second worship leader leads a few songs, as well.  It’s pretty crazy. 

Let me break it down for you:

I started the service with a few songs from campus #1.  I have a live band on campus #1 that is playing with me.  The band and worship leader at campus #2 are hearing my guitar and voice and are playing along to me as well.  I’m showing up on their screens on campus #2 as I lead both campuses in worship.  Then, after I lead 3 songs, we throw it over to the other campus where the worship leader at campus #2 does the same thing, except from their side.

It’s a little hard to explain, but it makes sense when you see it.

I was leading worship with my new friend, Andy Bromley (he was on the other campus).  Andy is a very talented worship leader who is part of the Kingsway movement in England.

Here’s the set list from last Sunday:

You Lifted Me Out- Chris Tomlin

Worthy of My Praise- Big Daddy Weave

At The Name of Jesus- Jesse Butterworth

Glorious King- Andy Bromley

Another very cool element from last week’s services was hearing some original poetry from my buddy, Don McCaleb.  I first met Don when he was managing the Ernie Ball plant in San Luis Obispo, CA.  He’s now on staff at WVC.

Here are some excerpts from his poem entitled “Stuff”:

My stuff is the needle that drops to the vinyl
to start the party and spin the spiral.

My stuff immediately, impressively, incessantly
illuminates my import,
and my stuff is loud.
It commands respect and you can’t neglect
when my stuff says, “I have arrived, and this is what I ‘m all about!”
My stuff identifies me.
And I 
identify 
with my 
stuff.

My stuff is so high you can’t get over it.
So wide you can’t get round it!     
You can’t handle my stuff!

My stuff is the needle that tattoos my skin,
signifying the significance of who I am.

I got stuff.
Stuff from my past…  
that follows me around
like some run-down evangelist carnival caravan
that keeps coming to town
In the amusement-park dark
swaggering saints from the shadows shout my shattered story,
and sell sacred success-souvenirs and seductive soul-sideshows. 

Sly, slanted slogans, solicit me, slander me, compel me.
Tell me… fortunes that regret that I can’t forget.
And seeking grace, I surrender to the stuff-spell,
but it conjures no communion, no confession;
just a constant carousel of clamor
that casts out the quiet and the questions,
So I don’t have to hear my heart… beat.

My stuff is a Ferris wheel that takes me up to the top
and drops me right back down again.
But after a while I twist and I spin,
and I want off,     
but the ride never stops.

I got stuff.   
Right now…
my stuff is an elevator straight to the penthouse floor!
But sometimes,
no matter what number I push,
I can’t seem to open the door.

You can’t handle my stuff!
My stuff is the needle that injects my vein, 
and it’s warm like a fever and it spreads like a stain
and it itches, and I scratch, and I dig
til it burns like a blaze.
But all I have in my hands is gasoline
And I can’t stop the flame.

I got stuff.
You can’t handle my stuff.
You can’t take my stuff.

Can You? Take my stuff?