TREES

Since my house is three blocks from my office, I usually walk to work. I have, at times, been rather boastful that the only traffic I encounter is when a child leaves his tricycle on the sidewalk or I have to walk around a slow-moving gaggle of high school girls walking to the Catholic school in the neighborhood.

The community is old, comprised of homes built between the great wars. The oldest dates to about 1920, and the newest houses were finished just before the outbreak of World War II. The choke-hold of a harsh winter has finally eased and I am sure that the maple, oak, sycamore and elm trees will soon explode into a canopy of leaves over the street. It is said that a squirrel can get from one edge of town to another, going from tree to tree, without ever touching the ground.

The story goes that the council of our town passed an ordinance in the 1930s that the city would provide a sapling to every homeowner for just $1 each. The young trees were put out on the town square for residents to claim and plant. The idea was to encourage the young families building the neighborhoods to participate in the conversion of the landscape from open prairie to a warm and inviting community.

Hundreds, maybe thousands, of trees were bought and planted during those early years. Many of them are now the majestic oaks and sycamores that magnificently beautify the community.

Imagine the stories those trees could tell. As they have extended their branches sunward they have provided beauty and shelter for workers like me going to their offices. They have held swings for children and lovers to laugh in. They have dropped thousands of acorns on the heads of teenage boys raking up their leaves in the autumn. As years have become decades they have stood under oceans of rain and snow. Still and all, they have grown stronger and mightier with each passing day.

But, we must remember, every one of them began when the city council and the homeowners made a commitment to enrich the quality of life for themselves and for those around them. They made the investment in the saplings. They took the time to carefully and lovingly plant and protect the trees when they were yet fledgling and fragile. They didn’t wait for someone else to “think of something to do...” They opened their wallets and they took their shovels out of the garage and set themselves to work. They also had to know that they would never live to see the trees in all of their splendor, but they had a vision of a better world that would live beyond themselves.

I believe that this is what we are doing right now in our vocation (and avocation) of music and ministry. The saplings you are planting are enjoyable to see, but with each sprouting leaf we can see the promise of immortal music from the heart of God through the pen of great composers to the voices of our choirs to the ears and spirits of many who come to hear.

This is a blessed opportunity. When the rehearsals get long and the notes come hard, let us never forget how good it is to be a part of the struggle. When the logistics seem impossible and when the support is so hard to build, let us never forget our calling as pioneers and prophets.

My mentor, Robert Shaw, once said that at length he came to an understanding of the literal reality that God is Love. Not just that God inspires or creates love, or that He is loving, but that He IS Love in true essence. And if God is the Loving Creator, then just maybe He is still about His work of loving and creating.

When we sing music that is greater than ourselves, we reflect the profound majesty and wondrous love of our Creator. Even more, we become a part of His work of continual creation, and we sing Wondrous Love on behalf of ourselves and everyone who has come before us. We sing not only to everyone who hears us, but to their children, to their children’s children, and to every ear that will live and breath, love and hope, in our community.

May we give thanks for the privilege of being a part of the pattern in the seed.

Soli Deo Gloria,
Bill

GIVE IT UP, BABY!

I got a chuckle listening to the radio the other day, hearing the story of how college students have given up Facebook for Lent. While I admire the spiritual commitment of the interviewed young people, I couldn’t help thinking that they sounded like recovering crack addicts in withdrawal!

I heard a story about a minister who is using the discipline of fasting as a Lenten-oriented weight-loss program. In fact, he is bringing a scale into the chancel of his church so that he can be weighed before the congregation during services to be affirmed in his achievement.

I have thought of giving up grilled cheese sandwiches for Lent, but I remembered that I was allergic to cheese anyway. Then I decided to forego praise choruses and contemporary worship, but I remembered that I despise them anyway. I am ashamed to admit it, but I have struggled to find a worthy sacrifice that I am willing to accept for myself.

Where does this idea come from? Does the Bible command us to “give up something” for Lent?

Of course not. Precious as the Church Year is to the spiritual journey of Christians, it is a creation of Man for the purpose of focusing our faith and building our understanding of the story of salvation.

The genesis of Lenten disciple comes from Jesus’ 40 days of fasting in the wilderness as He prepared for His ministry. During our 40 days of Lent, we follow His example of self-denial as a spiritual discipline that can open our minds and hearts to the power of His scriptural word and the working of the Holy Spirit in our hearts.

The part of all this that I think we often miss is the importance of adding something for Lent. You see, we “give it up...” but we forget to add something in its place. The spiritual discipline of Lent should focus our mind, heart, soul and spirit on the redeeming love of our Savior, but that cannot happen by only giving something up.

I hope you will join me during this Lenten season in taking a few minutes every day to exchange (give it up, baby!) a comfort with a spiritual discipline. I think for me it will be my habit of getting a cup of coffee and a cookie in the middle of the afternoon. Maybe I can take that time and spend it reading through the Epistle to the Romans, or the Gospel of St. Matthew. For you it might be a silent walk every evening talking to God and listening for His voice. Your spiritual discipline might be to listen to sacred music quietly for a few minutes every day, or read a good devotional book.

God calls us to live every day in His abundance. When we give something up for Lent, and replace it with something the ushers us into God’s presence, we open the door to a new gift of abundance.

Soli Deo Gloria,
Bill

ASHES & DUST

I can’t remember the last time, but I know that I have thought often, and occasionally written, about the natural disconnect between Lent and the beginning of spring. Has it ever seemed weird to you that we focus on “ashes to ashes” and “dust to dust” at about the time baseballs begin flying in Arizona and Florida, and we are once again seeing the ground on a fairly regular basis. Within a few weeks now it will be warm enough to fire up the grill and work in the yard again.

Now, of course, I know that our fathers in faith who laid the outline of the church year did so mindful only of their call to faithfully tell the story of sacrifice and salvation. It is a sure bet that baseball, yard work and barbeque were not on their agenda at all. The forty days (not counting Sundays) beginning Ash Wednesday start with the solemn mark of the cross on our foreheads and the dreadful, but perspective-establishing words, “You are dust, and to dust you shall return.”

In the spirit of honesty I must say that I don’t groove with this whole business of returning to dust. I am having a great time on this earth, and I don’t want to see my fun come to an unexpected conclusion any time soon. What my selfishness really wants is for my church to ignore the whole business of betrayal, sacrifice, scourge, sin and crucifixion so that I can spout a few praise choruses and blithely pretend that every Sunday is Easter.

Not only does life not allow me -or you, or anyone else- to get away with such fantasy, neither does the God of our Bible or the tradition of our faith.

A couple of hours before writing these words, I learned of the death of my best friend in childhood. Eight months older than me and yard neighbors from birth through my teen years, we played trucks together as toddlers, baseball and basketball as grade-schoolers and Steppenwolf and Jethro Tull as young teens. Though I had no contact with him at all in adult years, hearing of the death of anyone at my age -especially someone who was a part of my life for a long time- was quite rattling.

But, you see, this story is the reality of life and the true presence of a real and living God. God is not a vending machine that doles out trite feel-good blessings in response to our token coins of prayer, faithfulness and good works. Neither is God a great juke-box well-stocked to play our favorites upon our whim and request.

God is the God of dust, and He is the God of ashes. He is the God Who calls us to mourn our sins that He might redeem them, not ignore them. He doesn’t allow us to pretend that death is not real, but He gives us the sure and certain hope of resurrection and life eternal. Yes, dust to dust and ashes to ashes, but dust and ashes that live anew, never to die again.

Soli Deo Gloria,
Bill

TEACH ME HOW TO LIVE

For nearly a decade I have walked through the boarding door of an airplane at least two, sometimes four or eight, times in the course of most every single week. I count most of the AirTran terminal staff at KCI as personal friends. I have often joked with them that I could recite the pre-flight briefings from memory with complete accuracy.

My weekly return to Kansas City involves a walk from one end to another of the Atlanta airport. I have done it so often that I can name most of the advertising posters along the walk. There are ads for hotels, airport shuttles, and the King Center, among others.

One of the signs pictures the bright face of a ten-year-old boy wearing a baseball cap with a bat drawn expectantly behind his back. The expression on his face is firm and determined. He could be either of my sons. Four decades ago he could be me.

The large letters say, “He wants to be a baseball player when he grows up.” The smaller copy tells the story of his fight with an immune deficiency that threatens his future. It is obvious that he knows -to the extent any of us do- what he is up against. Still, he responds with courage and determination.

As I walked past the sign to security this morning I remembered the story of another courageous young woman in the Atlanta suburb I lived in during the 1980s and 1990s. Her name was Danielle. She was amazingly gifted as a vocalist, singing recitals of Donizetti and Faure at the age of 13. She was a championship tennis player, a straight-A student and a leader in the youth group of her church.

Danielle’s life seemed as charmed as anyone’s in history until one day she went to the office of the school nurse with a splitting headache. When the pain did not respond to over-the-counter treatment her parents took her to the doctor. Test “just precautionary” were ordered, but the results were the most feared. Brain tumor. Inoperable. Nine to fifteen months. Maybe.

Danielle faced decisions that no human should ever have to face, much less a child. She chose to trust God, give thanks for the life she had been given, and enjoy every remaining day to the fullest. Though her singing and tennis skills faded as the disease progressed, her courage inspired thousands in her church, in her school and in her community.

She died during the wee hours of a Monday night. Her completed homework that she would never submit waited on the breakfast table of her home. Her selected clothes for the school day that would never happen hung on the door of her closet.

I read her story and obituary in the newspaper as the plane lifted into the air. The photo of a smiling Danielle speaking to her youth peers about facing death with hope centered the article. In the dark of my imagination my mind superimposed the face of my own daughter over the one of the fallen child.

I hid my face with the newspaper and wept.

God does not promise us lives free of suffering and death. Not only does faith in God not protect us against suffering, sometimes it becomes the source of our suffering. To the disappointment of those who would seek to bring people to the Church by making them “feel good,” it is Jesus Himself Who commanded “...take up thy cross and follow Me.”

The victory that God gives us over death through the passion and resurrection of our Lord is that He Himself will not only be with us through the valley of the shadow of death, but that He will raise us up to live eternally with Him.

“ I shall not die, but live, and proclaim the works of the Lord!” -Psalm 118:17

Soli Deo Gloria,
Bill

WONDERFUL WORDS

Last week my Associate Music Director for the Festival Singers introduced a new selection to me and to our choristers, Williametta Spencer’s “At the Round Earth’s Imagined Corners.”

I mentioned to the choir that the words are from the “Holy Sonnets” of English poet, parliamentarian and priest, John Donne (1572-1631). Regarded for his “vibrancy of language” and “inventiveness of metaphor,” Donne’s work is a colorful example of a golden age of English writing that includes the King James Bible of 1611, Richard Crashaw (1613-1649), Robert Southwell (1561-1595), and, of course, William Shakespeare himself (1564-1616).

A couple of weeks ago, in a beautiful hour when the snow was deep outside, the fireplace glowed with warmth and the dog rested quietly next to my chair, I read through the entirety of the Holy Sonnets from which Spencer’s motet is drawn. I rose to go upstairs mentally comparing the language of the English mystic to the hymn-writers and poets of today wondering how we could have fallen so far in just 400 short years.

If Donne were alive in the 21st century I think he would be described, in the words of my father, as a “root-tooter,” -part bad-boy, part starving artist, part-genius- deeply religious with a Davidian-like sinful self and a Pauline-like converted faith. His writing is like his life: deep, colorful, masculine, fallen, repentant, redeemed, and earthy.

I offer these three excerpts from the Holy Sonnets:

At the round earth’s imagined corners blow
Your trumpets, angels, and arise, arise
From death, you numberless infinities
Of souls, and to your scattered bodies go,
All whom the flood did, and the fire shall, overthrow,
All whom war, dearth, age, agues, tyrannies,
Despair, law, chance hath slain, and you whose eyes
Shall behold God, and never taste death’s woe.
But let them sleep, Lord, and me mourn a space,
For, if above all these my sins abound,
‘Tis late to ask abundance of Thy grace,
When we are there. Here on this lowly ground
Teach me how to repent; for that’s as good
As if Thou’dst sealed my pardon with Thy blood.

Batter my heart, three-person'd God, for you
As yet but knock, breathe, shine, and seek to mend;
That I may rise and stand, o'erthrow me, and bend
Your force to break, blow, burn, and make me new.
I, like an usurp'd town to another due,
Labor to admit you, but oh, to no end;
Reason, your viceroy in me, me should defend,
But is captiv'd, and proves weak or untrue.
Yet dearly I love you, and would be lov'd fain,
But am betroth'd unto your enemy;
Divorce me, untie or break that knot again,
Take me to you, imprison me, for I,
Except you enthrall me, never shall be free,
Nor ever chaste, except you ravish me.

Death, be not proud, though some have called thee
Mighty and dreadful, for thou art not so;
For those whom thou think'st thou dost overthrow
Die not, poor Death, nor yet canst thou kill me.
From rest and sleep, which but thy pictures be,
Much pleasure; then from thee much more must flow,
And soonest our best men with thee do go,
Rest of their bones, and soul's delivery.
Thou art slave to fate, chance, kings, and desperate men,
And dost with poison, war, and sickness dwell,
And poppy or charms can make us sleep as well
And better than thy stroke; why swell'st thou then?
One short sleep past, we wake eternally
And death shall be no more; Death, thou shalt die.

As musicians in the service of Christ, we dwell in the realm of voice and music, but it is language and poetry that is the heartbeat of our expression.

In much the same way that exercise and good nutrition contributes to the health of our bodies, I believe that wonderful words and great writing contributes to the health of our intellects. Words that quicken our sense of spirituality and provide us voice for the aspirations of our hearts contributes to the health of our souls.

Soli Deo Gloria,
Bill

OPTIMISM & DETERMINATION

As the ship of history sails deeper into the 21st century we can look back with a wider perspective on the previous century where our lives began. February 6 marked the 100th anniversary of the birth of Ronald Reagan. It is considered conventional wisdom among historians that Reagan’s was one of the two most consequential presidencies of the 20th century, the other being Franklin Delano Roosevelt.

Both men came to leadership when our nation faced horrific economic challenges and external threats that put the lives and safety of Americans at risk. Roosevelt came to power at a time when the entire financial system of the nation had collapsed and over a third of Americans were unemployed. Many citizens were forced into soup lines to feed their families. Even worse, mass-murderers had taken control of two of the largest military forces on earth, Japan and Germany, with clear intentions of world domination. The best response of Roosevelt’s doddering predecessor, Herbert Hoover, had been shrugged shoulders and wringing hands.

When Reagan was inaugurated in 1981, unemployment was in the double digits and the interest rate for purchasing a home (now 5%) was over 20%. Energy resources were growing more scarce by the day because of a crisis in the Middle East that led to the taking of 52 Americans as hostages for over a year. Though many may disagree ...and my purpose is not to spur a political debate... most modern historians regard his predecessor Jimmy Carter’s presidency as one of the most impotent in history.

Both Roosevelt and Reagan are credited with reshaping America during their terms in office, and with leaving office with the nation in a much different circumstance that it was in on the day of their first inaugurations.

How did these men accomplish this work in the face of such impossible odds? What are the common threads of their success?

It is certainly true that the world did not fix itself under their watches. Not only was the United States not the primary military power at the start of World War II, we weren’t even in the top five. Our task was to mobilize against the worst crisis the western world had faced in five centuries while in the throes of a paralyzing depression. Likewise, in 1981, the terrors of radical extremists, unemployment, energy crisis, and inflation were world-wide and unabating.

It is certainly true that Roosevelt and Reagan did not share a common political philosophy. Roosevelt used the power of government to accomplish his work and, in doing so, built the foundation of expansive government that continues to grow into the 21st century. Reagan, on the other hand, viewed government as “the problem, not the solution” and sought at every turn to diminish the role and power of government.

What they did share was a sense of optimism about the rightness of their cause and the exceptional nature of their American homeland. They also shared a determination that stood with uncompromising strength against any opposing force that the evils in the world could assail against them.

Roosevelt’s words from his 1933 inaugural address ring with great clarity: “The only thing we have to fear is fear itself.” A modern translation might be “Okay, we have a tough situation here. Let’s roll up our sleeves and get to the work of fixing it.”

Fifty-two years later, Ronald Reagan stood at Berlin’s Brandenburg Gate, in plain view of the guard towers and electric fences where millions had been imprisoned and murdered by Communist regimes. His words of hope and determination were equally clear: “....if you believe in liberalization, come to this gate. Mr. Gorbechev, (General Secretary of the Soviet Union) come to this gate! Mr. Gorbechev, tear down this wall!”

Optimism and determination.

I have to believe that optimism and determination are traits that are mutually dependent upon each other. You may have a sunny disposition that will serve you well, but it does you no good unless you have the courage of conviction, and the determination of enterprise, to apply it to the questions of life. You can have all of the industry on earth, and unstoppable determination, but what does it matter if you do not believe with all your heart in the rightness of your cause and in the certainty of ultimate victory.

I believe that such a level of optimism and determination is needed now in the support of the arts, not only choral music, but symphony, ballet, opera, visual art, and literature.

The dumbing down of American culture seems at a critical state. Not in every area, but certainly in many, music education programs are being cut mercilessly to the detriment of families seeking well-rounded educations for their children. Even some churches have cashiered a thousand years of beauty and depth for tawdry entertainment music and personality cult. Funding for arts organizations, our own included, has never been more challenging.

These are struggles that are very real and very threatening.

But, in the same manner that Hitler and Hirohito’s armies fell to the determination of America and her allies, and the Cold War ended in the fall of the Soviet gulags and the Berlin Wall, there is no evil might in this world that can hold back the expressive power and the hopeful optimism enshrined in the arts.

I believe that the pursuit of truth and beauty, though often clouded by experience and polluted by popular culture, is woven into the core of our being as a part of our creation. Though it may become challenging to fund it and though it may become frustrating to promote it, there is no power on earth that can stop it.

Great leaders become great leaders because they set their sights on great things and they refuse to take “no” for an answer. Whatever slings and arrows come their way, their faith, determination, courage and optimism hold fast.

May it be so for us and for the Choral Foundation!

Soli Deo Gloria,
Bill

FUN

Have you ever read a book that gave voice to thoughts you have had with such clarity and power that you wish you had written it yourself? I am in the throes of such a book right now.

Three weeks ago I was having lunch with a church musician friend, Herb Buffington. Together we were lamenting the junk masquerading as church music in many congregations in recent years. Our conversation turned to thoughts about revealing to pastors, colleagues and lay-people the important work of raising standards in these dark and challenging times.

Herb recommended a small book that he had recently read, This Little Church Went to Market. I ordered it from Amazon and have been devouring it for the last few days. I have found it to be one of those books that I would like to buy a 100 copies of to send to colleagues and friends around the country. Though I don’t swing with some of the author’s fundamentalist theology, I find that he clearly and powerfully states the case against the recent wave of entertainment worship and the felt-needs foundation of much church programming and marketing.

You will probably be subjected to a number of thoughts and applications of those thoughts from my present reading project in the coming weeks, but I will start with these ideas...

The author, Gary Gilley, unpacks the development of our American entertainment culture and the evolution of our concept of “fun.” He contends that the idea of fun as a goal or objective is quite recent in western understanding. Most certainly, through human history, there has been joy and exaltation, even ecstacy. But it has only been in the last few decades that amusement for the very sake of amusement has become an end in itself.

In fact, the pursuit of fun as an objective now permeates the worship of the church, our processes of education, the choosing of our national leaders, the assignment of societal values, and our individual measure of self-worth and life-fulfillment.

Gilley quotes Neil Postman from the latter’s book Amusing Ourselves to Death, when he says.. “... to enjoy the fine arts required a person to think, to meditate, and to engage the mind and the soul. The new brand of entertainment, increasingly enjoyed by the masses is mindless. It is about gratification rather than edification, indulgence rather than transcendence, reaction rather than contemplation, and escape from moral instruction rather than submission to it.”

From the standpoint of the Church, when we seek to cashier expressions of timeless beauty and worth for the amusements of the day, we distort the Church’s message of love, faithfulness and sacrifice into a form of popular psychobabble that falls short of the ultimate message of salvation by grace through faith.

Though Gilley’s book has been an affirmation and inspiration to me on these topics, more and more writers and periodicals are beginning to consider these them. In a recent article in Christianity Today, Donald Bloesch, had this to say about the back-lash forming over “seeker-sensitive” worship:

“Protestantism is in trouble as an increasing number of business and professional people are searching for a new church. The complaint that I hear most often is that people can no longer sense the sacred in either the preaching or the liturgy... worship has become performance rather than praise. The praise choruses that have preempted the great hymns [in many churches] do not hide the fact that [their] worship is essentially a spectacle that appeals to the senses rather than an act of obeisance to the Mighty God Who is both holiness and love. Contemporary worship is far more egocentric than theo-centric. “

I have long believed that the whole of Church history teaches that fads will come and fads will go. Be those fads contemporary worship, praise choruses, gender-neutral language, or politics of the left or the right, they will in time fade and fall as the ancient liturgy and its solid root in Holy Scripture stands from generation to generation and from age to age.

Soli Deo Gloria,
Bill