In high school and college, I sang in several choirs, each led by talented, well-organized conductors. I currently sing in four choirs with equally talented, organized conductors, and appreciate their leadership as they steer us volunteer singers towards performing repertoire in wide-ranging styles.

And then there’s Marty.

I first met Marty several years ago when he took charge of the Agape Singers, a church choir that sings contemporary Christian music. I wasn’t sure what to make of him. He never started rehearsals with warm-up exercises, a staple of all other conductors I have worked with. His rehearsals often seemed to border on chaos. University students made snarky comments about the way he conducted. These comments made me smile, as we old school wannabe musicians made similar comments when I was in school.

“But what makes him so successful?” I asked one of these students, an up-and-coming choral conductor as noises of a chamber orchestra enveloped us with sound. “I mean, most of us aren’t the most talented musicians in the universe, yet we sing a different contemporary Christian piece each week and team up with the other church choir to sing more traditional pieces by Bach, Handel, Vivaldi, Durufle, Rutter, and other contemporary classical composers.”

“I don’t know,” she said, somehow taken aback.

I’m not sure I know either, but here are some thoughts.

Marty was the only conductor I have met who could talk with intelligence and enthusiasm about all musical styles, from chant song to Brahms to contemporary Top 40 pop tunes. I walked into one Sunday morning rehearsal as Marty and several college students were talking about the merits of current Grammy-award winning songs. He premiered three of my compositions, and his command of musical styles allowed him to instinctually grasp what I was trying to accomplish through my music.

But I never fully appreciated Marty’s interest in diverse musical styles until I told him that my wife and I had attended the concluding Grateful Dead concerts in Chicago. His voice lit up as we discussed the mix of talents, grit, and flaws that made the Dead come to life.

Much of choral arrangements of Christian contemporary music are sonically malnourishing, but Marty always chose satisfying pieces for us to sing. Even when I didn’t like the style of a given piece, I knew that what we were singing was well-crafted, which motivated me to do my best each week. While he seemed to have little patience with traditional rehearsal-leading techniques, his easygoing style made each weekly 45-minute rehearsal fly by. He spent little time pounding out voice parts on the piano, expecting the stronger singers in each voice part to lead the rest of us.

Marty was the essence of servant leadership: always humble; always interested in strengthening others; always willing to do those menial, boring tasks to keep things moving. And his quiet, confident joy was ever present, especially towards the end of his time with us.

Three days after Marty announced his retirement due to medical issues, he sang the anthem at the following Sunday’s church service, probably because no one else had volunteered. To my ears, the piece he sang was dreadful, yet he communicated a sense of joyful faith through a weak and warbly voice. He died peacefully two weeks later.

Thanks, Marty, for reminding me that the athletic coach style with the brassy voice and type A personality doesn’t always make the best leader; that a calm, confident, nurturing servant leadership style can often yield comparable, sometimes better, results.

RIP, Marty Hook.