Goosebumps. The real, soul-deep kind. That’s what you’ll feel as this choir wows with a breathtaking cover of ‘I Don’t Want to Miss a Thing.’ Chills will wash over you, and you’ll almost feel as if you are there as you sink into the worn wooden pews of Pershore Abbey, that ancient, sacred space where stone meets sky and silence feels like it’s holding its breath. The kind of place that makes you whisper without even realizing it—because something in you just knows this is holy ground.
Then the Rock Choir stepped forward—everyday folks from Worcestershire, Malvern, Evesham, Tewkesbury, and Stratford. No frills. Just black shirts and a simple little star stitched on the front. It wasn’t flashy, but man, it was beautiful. They stood shoulder to shoulder, like a community in motion, like a picture of what happens when we bring our gifts to the table and let God braid them together into something bigger than us.
And then—goodness—they started to sing.
The first notes of Aerosmith’s ‘I Don’t Want to Miss a Thing’ rose up and wrapped around everyone like an embrace. Yeah, that’s the song. The one that probably played at your prom or wedding—or both. The one you hum in the kitchen while doing dishes next to your spouse. But friend, I’m telling you: you haven’t really heard it until it echoes through centuries-old stone and sinks straight into your bones.
It wasn’t just a song. It was worship, whether they meant it that way or not.
Those voices filled the air like light pouring through stained glass—rising, soaring, falling. Notes danced up the pillars, tiptoed along ancient beams, and rained down on us like grace. And as the melody unfolded, I watched an elderly couple two rows ahead of me reach for each other’s hands—no words, no glance, just years of shared life and silent knowing.
And I thought… isn’t that exactly how God moves? He slips into the cracks of the every day and says, “This. Right here. This is why I gave you each other.”
We serve a God who could’ve made us cold and detached, untouched by emotion or connection. But instead—He knit into our very DNA the ache to love and be loved. He hardwired us for eye contact and late-night conversations and the kind of presence that says, “I don’t want to miss a single second with you.”
That’s extravagant love. And it’s His gift to us.
To love like that. To cherish. To slow down long enough to see the people right in front of us and say, “You matter. You’re not invisible. I won’t miss this moment with you.”
And when the last note faded into sacred silence, no one moved. No one dared to clap. Not yet. We all sat in that thin-space hush where heaven feels close and your soul is still catching up. And then—applause. Not the kind that says, “Good job,” but the kind that says, “Yes. I needed that.”
1 Corinthians 13:13 "And now these three remain: faith, hope and love. But the greatest of these is love."
