One of my fellow singers - a founding member, actually - in the music ministry I've joined has a rather strong flair for the dramatic. With quite a bit of experience in community theater, he serves as our staging director, and also maintains our website. As it happens, he's had a couple of speaking parts in the service in addition to a vocal lead. Well, in reassigning speaking assignments to the newer members at last week's rehearsal, I was given one of his. His absence from that rehearsal was a non-factor in the decision, but the group joked that I'd have to break the news to him. I replied, also in jest, that I was afraid of what might happen to my website bio.
So last Tuesday I sent him an e-mail explaining what we'd decided, and offering to switch assignments with him in the event we had misread his preference. But, "just in case," I told him I'd also saved him the trouble of revising my bio, and included one that I thought was a real hoot. He evidently agreed, replying that he'd be willing to sacrifice the part, but only on the condition that I stand up in front of the group and share my revised bio with them. I responded that I'd be willing to brave such a degrading experience to facilitate this humble work of grace in his life (not that I have any dramatic tendencies of my own, mind you).
So Monday night, early in rehearsal, I shared this with the group:
" . . . is a back-stabbing, glory-grasping Johnny-come-lately, unconcerned with the discord he sows - even within an established and revered organization - by his self-promotion. However noble and unselfish their loving labors, however close-knit the group, he soon unleashes his chaos, relentlessly pursuing his own agenda, wheedling his will, nefariously undermining the carefully nurtured harmony that preceded his arrival. An avid bicyclist, he never takes his turn at the front of the line. You'll easily spot this attention hog: the malicious villain will surely be front and center; should he fail at that, he'll be the one singing off-key!"
Somehow I forgot to include the adjective "scene-stealing," an unintended oversight.
So, the part I lead is the last Station. Near the end of rehearsal, as I finished reading, the entire group, with one breath, let out with a quiet, seemingly awestruck "Wow!" A couple of them dabbled at their eyes, as if I'd moved them to tears.
Apparently our staging director rearranges us for each parish to balance our optimal blend with high visibility for any parishioners within our group. So where do you suppose he put me for the service at our parish? In the middle of the front row, of course.
Wednesday, January 30, 2008
Monday, January 28, 2008
Zebulun and Naphtali
Readings of contrast yesterday, and an interesting take on them. "The people who walked in darkness have seen a great light."
Historical background: around 722 BC, the kingdom of Israel was overthrown, and that conquest began in the regions of Zebulun and Naphtali. It was from these regions that the light of salvation would arise in Jesus' public ministry, and where Christ would first proclaim that the kingdom of God is at hand.
As our new priest pointed out, there are several implications in our own lives, but the one I found myself considering was how we only find our greatest growth from the darkest areas of our lives. We each have our Zebulun and Naphtali, our areas of darkness. Often we think that God is absent from our lives in these areas, or we reject God's will in order to embrace our own. But often we learn later that love is at its most illuminating brightness in our deepest darkness. That darkness may arise from the loss of someone we love. It might spring from crushing guilt and shame, either deserved or wrongly accepted. It might have its roots in personal failure, or in uncontrollable circumstance. Whatever its source, God's love shines brighter than that darkness, and it will light up our lives and shine on those around us if we follow Christ, as the first disciples did.
Peter and Andrew. James and John. They left their former lives behind. Perhaps they'd dealt with the fisherman's life for so long that even the unknown future offered by this itinerant represented a greater hope for significance. But the remaining depths of my own life likewise call out for a transformation, from hopeless darkness to glorious light, that can only take place if I walk with Jesus in those areas, as well.
It takes a degree of abandon that we too often fear.
Historical background: around 722 BC, the kingdom of Israel was overthrown, and that conquest began in the regions of Zebulun and Naphtali. It was from these regions that the light of salvation would arise in Jesus' public ministry, and where Christ would first proclaim that the kingdom of God is at hand.
As our new priest pointed out, there are several implications in our own lives, but the one I found myself considering was how we only find our greatest growth from the darkest areas of our lives. We each have our Zebulun and Naphtali, our areas of darkness. Often we think that God is absent from our lives in these areas, or we reject God's will in order to embrace our own. But often we learn later that love is at its most illuminating brightness in our deepest darkness. That darkness may arise from the loss of someone we love. It might spring from crushing guilt and shame, either deserved or wrongly accepted. It might have its roots in personal failure, or in uncontrollable circumstance. Whatever its source, God's love shines brighter than that darkness, and it will light up our lives and shine on those around us if we follow Christ, as the first disciples did.
Peter and Andrew. James and John. They left their former lives behind. Perhaps they'd dealt with the fisherman's life for so long that even the unknown future offered by this itinerant represented a greater hope for significance. But the remaining depths of my own life likewise call out for a transformation, from hopeless darkness to glorious light, that can only take place if I walk with Jesus in those areas, as well.
It takes a degree of abandon that we too often fear.
Thursday, January 24, 2008
I'm so excited!
For over ten years now, there has been a wonderful music ministry in our area. Their main service is one of the two most prayerful and reflective experiences I've ever had of the Stations of the Cross. We've actually had the other at our parish the last two years, a pianist and singer from the Cincinnati area.
At any rate, I've previously considered auditioning for this group, but didn't feel I had the time to dedicate to it. But with Lent and Easter being so early this year, my time balance has changed, as we'll finish our services before cycling season starts. And what do you know - the group is glad to have me along! So, I get to sing with a really talented and fun bunch of folks, doing something that I know from experience is really worthwhile, that truly enhances people's ability to identify with Christ - and those around him - in this ancient reflection on the Way of the Cross. We'll be singing in nine different area churches, all on either Friday or Sunday during Lent, so it's a pretty busy schedule!
At any rate, I've previously considered auditioning for this group, but didn't feel I had the time to dedicate to it. But with Lent and Easter being so early this year, my time balance has changed, as we'll finish our services before cycling season starts. And what do you know - the group is glad to have me along! So, I get to sing with a really talented and fun bunch of folks, doing something that I know from experience is really worthwhile, that truly enhances people's ability to identify with Christ - and those around him - in this ancient reflection on the Way of the Cross. We'll be singing in nine different area churches, all on either Friday or Sunday during Lent, so it's a pretty busy schedule!
Monday, January 14, 2008
No words
Some situations just can't be blog fodder, no matter how much they're on one's mind, y'know?
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