Years ago we joined a large church in the area. It had good preaching, teaching, opportunities to serve -- but the music hurt.
No, I don't mean it offended my aesthetic senses, though it wasn't my favorite style; I mean that the first song was set at roach-killer volume (to remind people to stop talking?), and it only improved slightly from there. It was just too loud. I not only couldn't hear myself (the way musicians who use monitors can hear themselves), it hurt my ears if I sat in the wrong row.
I started to get quietly grumpy about that.
One day I got sat down and inaudibly interrogated about that:
You've got a bad attitude here.Yes.
You don't like the music. You're starting to spread that dislike out.
I guess so.
I don't guess. Are the band players your enemies?
Well, not exactly. But.
What did I tell you to do with your enemies?
Oh. Love them.
And here that means?
Serve them.
I volunteered to do the monitor board. I dressed in inconspicuous dark clothes and went behind the curtain to run the giant thing during rehearsals and services, and whatever mix they wanted, I tweaked for them. I changed batteries, adjusted the lectern...
After a few years they started up a new service, with more traditional music, and needed people to run that--which is where I am now.
Several years of serving the teams trying to praise God with loud music didn't give me a great love for the style, though I understand it better now. What it did give me was a love for them.
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You have to click through again to get to the post with 33 comments. Spirited.
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