the rumors are beginning to fly about, the jockeying for position may have already started and the speculation is well underway. The least desirable aspect of Orthodox Christianity is its potential for byzantine intrigue. We are going to have to give an account of all of this, the time wasted, the people lost, the things left undone and there doesn’t seem to be a prayer rope large enough to meet the need.
There are two places…
where I am most at peace. Wherever I am when I am playing music and in Church. They are both glorious in their own ways.
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It's a kind of passion…
when you decide to seriously take up the art of playing bass.
Some came to the bass because they were tall and their junior high orchestra needed someone with the height to play the double bass. Others were frustrated guitarists who picked it up because they felt it was at least better then not being on stage with the band. Others sense a kind of novelty, but the novelty wears off after time.
You can see it when they play, and hear it too. One can survive by going through the motions, stay on the root note, keep decent time, and take your bows. You can tell, as well, when a person plays with passion, with the sense of pushing every possible sound out of four strings or knowing just the right time to place a note that changes the whole melody.
And if you are a bassist of passion, even if you are just beginning to play, you become identified with the instrument. Its always with you even when its on the stand at home. In a world of guitarists you are a rarity and people find you. On the street the tall instrument with the four strings always gets the first look.
Perhaps someone will grab your instrument and think they, because they can play guitar or mandolin, can master it. They usually play a few notes from one of their leads and then the realization sets in. The bass, especially the upright, requires strength combined with a delicate touch, a sense of time, and the ability to place notes not just where they can be but where they should be. Slowly they hand the instrument back.
That’s when the respect begins and those who know will understand.
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Everybody gets on St. Peter's case…
about his lack of faith, but at least he walked on the water for a while before he sank. Most of us wouldn’t even have gotten out of the boat.
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Whirlwind Ministries…
is tucked inside what appears to be a gym with a kitchen attached. One door in. One door out. One half the room is table and the other half instruments with a pulpit shoehorned in between.
The walls are covered with pictures, trees mostly, and some holy thoughts. Perhaps one day someone said “I know, let’s get the kids to paint the wall” and this is what they got. Yet its all pleasant in a well worn kind of way, like the house of an aunt who never made much money but was still your favorite.
I was to be the bassist in the praise band, using the time up front to practice for a later prison ministry gig, and because of work I arrived late while the service was in full swing. Quickly unpacking I found my place in the music and began to play. Three chords, lots of repeating, and tons of emotion. The sounds system was loud, so loud that I had trouble at first picking out my bass notes, but it was the volume of passion. While we Orthodox may occasionally mumble a few notes Pentecostals sing from the bottom of their shoes.
Songs done, a sermon was next in the order of business, a young lady skipping from passage to passage, thought to thought, using a whiteboard to help her along. Bibles were open and occasionally someone joined in with a question or comment. I listened, and remembered. This was me, some time ago, the music, the sermon, everything. It’s been a million miles down the road, of course, but I had not forgotten.
Yes, I am a different person now, Orthodox through and through. I was never a good Pentecostal even when I hung around with them. Too much noise. Too many things going on. I could never imagine going back to that world. I love the beautiful stillness and holy peace of Orthodoxy. Yet one thing remains. The love.
Whatever else was going on, good, bad, or otherwise, there was love. Love in the music. Love in a parish with its doors wide open to folks from the local Gospel Mission. Even a love for holy things that jumped from place to place with the sermon. Come in broken, disheveled, lonely, or not quite right for “polite” society and Whirlwind’s heart was ready to expand to fit anyone who walked in.
Whatever else we have we don’t often have that and in their own way Whirlwind may be more Orthodox than we could ever imagine, or be.
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Six Million African Muslims Leave Islam per Year…
The Heritage of Western Civilization…
Interesting thoughts…
from Geert Wilders on muslimdebate.com. You may or may not like his politics but this is a chance to hear him speak about Islam in a candid way.
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Worth reading…
An article exposing some of the many intelligence agencies operated by our government. The agendas, the redundancies, the conflicts, its all there.
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FWIW…
I was watching a little of ESPN this morning and the stories were all about athletes with multi-million dollar contracts holding out for a “better deal”. Perhaps it would be good for them to consider that in these times such hold outs, an irritation before, are appearing more and more obscene.
The Beautiful Path 