This started as some ideas to tweetsplode, but it would be long even for me.
I've always looked at my job as involving both art and craft. I got this analogy from Terry Bozzio: a painter can paint a portrait, or he can paint your house. Kinda like that.
My job these days is almost entirely craft. Playing in worship bands, playing in cover bands, backing up singer/songwriter guys...hell, even most "original" situations boil down to executing someone else's idea of what the drum set ought to do. There's really very little "art" involved in what the bulk of musicians and music consumers want to hear from a drummer.
Even what passes for the drummer being "creative" usually means changing the sound of the kit and playing 60 year old cliches on it. "He's so creative! The toms are muffled!" That kind of thing. Pretty much every pop/rock/worship/whatever musician I know thinks this way.
(Thank God for djent)
I've grown to be pretty okay with the idea that of all the musicians I know, maybe a few are interested in my ideas of what I should play and sound like. I'm really good at playing what I'm asked to play. I can, and do, make it work (meaning, I can make an audience sing, dance, head bang, etc.). I'm simply a blue collar musician who does the job right.
What has me musing about this is that since I enjoy the work, the only thing that I could foresee making me interested in the "original" scene again would have to involve either lots of money or total creative freedom. Otherwise, what would be the point?
I think my transition has been, if you'll excuse me, from blue balls to blue collar. But I still have fits of the former.
Showing posts with label Vocation. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Vocation. Show all posts
The Thing with the Hymns
This Holy Week brought with it so many opportunities to sing glorious hymns to the Lord. It's my favorite time of the Church year. Reflecting on the music of the past week had me thinking about a practice that has increasingly been driving me nuts. I could write a pretty lengthy series of posts, but today here's just a brief outline of why I'm opposed to the popular practice of adding choruses to old hymns.
It Doesn't Improve Them
I could leave it at that, really. Have any additions really made the work better? If not, why do it? I can only think of bad reasons, some of which are below.
Hymns Don't Do That
In a hymn, the verses go together to form a complete thought. Like sentences in a paragraph, each verse relates to the one before or after it. In a song, the verses relate to the chorus. Interrupting the train of thought to a hymn, and omitting some key verses, puts the expression of the thought out of joint and interjects a non sequitur.
Pride
In most of these instances we're dealing with works that have been in regular widespread use for at least a century or two. They haven't exactly demonstrated a lack of some sort which needs to be fixed. Yet an industry that for the most part produces works considered passé and out of rotation within ten to fifteen years (when was the last time you sang "Shine, Jesus, Shine?") presumes to evaluate, edit, and improve upon them? What cascade of absurdities has to be accepted to buy into the delusion that one is qualified to do this?
More Pride
What makes us believe that our entertainment mentality ought to be the norm to which any inclusion of older music must conform? Can we not seek to include this art and respect its form and content to the best we can in our individual settings?
I'm Cynical
This is my own personal issue but if I've thought of this, surely at least someone involved has, too. Hymns are pretty much all in the public domain. If I record one and (by some miracle) my arrangement gets airplay and use in Churches, I might sell some records and make some money. But if I add a chorus in between the verses, I've written half the song, and I get publishing royalties every time it's played on the radio and in your Church.
It's Self-Centered
This is the big one for me. Today our worship is very self-oriented. We tend to gather as congregations of individuals and not one people unified across all time and space, which is what the Bible teaches. The felt needs and likes of each individual in the pews are driving what we sing and do. Novelty is king. People may not like these hymns done this way; we must jazz them up. It's not true, but even if it were, it is exactly this mentality out of which people need to be trained. We worship with those who have gone before us, and so it is only right to sing their music. We should do the same if the music of the future ever becomes available! Love and mutual submission ought to make us respect these great works and seek to add our voices to them in deference to the greater Body.
That's the main gist of it. Your thoughts are welcome.
It Doesn't Improve Them
I could leave it at that, really. Have any additions really made the work better? If not, why do it? I can only think of bad reasons, some of which are below.
Hymns Don't Do That
In a hymn, the verses go together to form a complete thought. Like sentences in a paragraph, each verse relates to the one before or after it. In a song, the verses relate to the chorus. Interrupting the train of thought to a hymn, and omitting some key verses, puts the expression of the thought out of joint and interjects a non sequitur.
Pride
In most of these instances we're dealing with works that have been in regular widespread use for at least a century or two. They haven't exactly demonstrated a lack of some sort which needs to be fixed. Yet an industry that for the most part produces works considered passé and out of rotation within ten to fifteen years (when was the last time you sang "Shine, Jesus, Shine?") presumes to evaluate, edit, and improve upon them? What cascade of absurdities has to be accepted to buy into the delusion that one is qualified to do this?
More Pride
What makes us believe that our entertainment mentality ought to be the norm to which any inclusion of older music must conform? Can we not seek to include this art and respect its form and content to the best we can in our individual settings?
I'm Cynical
This is my own personal issue but if I've thought of this, surely at least someone involved has, too. Hymns are pretty much all in the public domain. If I record one and (by some miracle) my arrangement gets airplay and use in Churches, I might sell some records and make some money. But if I add a chorus in between the verses, I've written half the song, and I get publishing royalties every time it's played on the radio and in your Church.
It's Self-Centered
This is the big one for me. Today our worship is very self-oriented. We tend to gather as congregations of individuals and not one people unified across all time and space, which is what the Bible teaches. The felt needs and likes of each individual in the pews are driving what we sing and do. Novelty is king. People may not like these hymns done this way; we must jazz them up. It's not true, but even if it were, it is exactly this mentality out of which people need to be trained. We worship with those who have gone before us, and so it is only right to sing their music. We should do the same if the music of the future ever becomes available! Love and mutual submission ought to make us respect these great works and seek to add our voices to them in deference to the greater Body.
That's the main gist of it. Your thoughts are welcome.
The Office.
Through God's kind Providence my home studio is mostly complete. I moved in this week and could not be giddier. Working from home is going to be an ever-increasing blessing as the years go on.
New Tools/Playground
Thanks to Paul Mason of Tempus Drums, I'm celebrating my 20th year as a Tempus man with a brand new dream drumset. Here it is at my studio:
But wait, there's more! Soon the kit will move to its new home--my home. Half my garage is becoming my new drum studio:
I'm a very happy man (pronounced, "happiman").
But wait, there's more! Soon the kit will move to its new home--my home. Half my garage is becoming my new drum studio:
I'm a very happy man (pronounced, "happiman").
The Lord of Song
Okay, okay, I'm a Doug Wilson fanboy. I think he rocks. So here's yet another posting of his that I think is absolutely fantastic, and I would like you to read it and then come discuss it with me here in the comments.
Blog homework: brought to you by Every Square Inch.
Blog homework: brought to you by Every Square Inch.
Well Said
One of my biggest struggles doing what I do in the Churches is having to play what I call "Makin' out with Jesus" songs. I hate them. To wit: this article puts it better than I could.
Solo Drums, 1997.
"Back in the day," I used to play club gigs by myself without a band. This is one of my solo pieces, named "Skippy" because of the stuttering foot pattern, played at Instant Karma the year I joined Atomic Opera.
The Inside Game; or, Worship Leading and the Drummer (Namely Me)
One of my heroes, Douglas Wilson, told the story of how the Church he pastors made the move from using grape juice in Communion to using wine. He had become convinced that refusing to use wine was wrong, but for a long time they continued the practice for the sake of the tender consciences in the parish. Each week, as he celebrated, he would pray the Lord's forgiveness that they were doing it again, and over time they moved to the exclusive use of wine. The whole point was to bring about reform in a charitable, pastoral manner, teaching as they did it.
Recently, I remarked on Todd's blog that I likewise will sometimes be asking the Lord to have mercy on us for the things we sing to Him, or for what's going on around them. I'm really convinced that a lot of the stuff that gets sung in the contemporary worship "scene" is inappropriate and sometimes flat-out erroneous. For example, God, Who reveals Himself in detail in His Word, is not "Indescribable." Sorry, Chris, I like your song, but He isn't.
This puts me in a really weird place, because playing this music in Churches is almost all I do anymore.
I want to be really careful here. I do not want those with whom I work to think that I believe they are some kind of heretics. They aren't. I am fortunate to work with some of the finest Christian men and women I've had the pleasure of meeting. This is a Church-cultural problem, not a personal one.
"So," one might say, "Mr. Convictions, if a lot of what is going on is wrong, then you should resign and not take Church gigs anymore." Well, I've thought about that pretty seriously. Prayed about it, even. I don't believe that's the best course of action (and no, I don't need the money that bad).
By God's grace, I have a unique position from which to speak to these issues to the people who choose or write worship music. Sometimes directly, other times by merely being present as someone who sees things another way. I've earned their trust and respect. God gives those things as tools to be used for His purposes. If God has given me influence with them, then maybe I can make an impact.
So, unless He tells me otherwise, I play the inside game. One of two things will happen--I'll be an instrument for reform or I will be reformed because I'm the one who's jacked.
In the meantime, when necessary, I pray. "We don't know any better, Lord, and we earnestly desire to worship You as You command, in reverence and godly fear. Bring that about."
Recently, I remarked on Todd's blog that I likewise will sometimes be asking the Lord to have mercy on us for the things we sing to Him, or for what's going on around them. I'm really convinced that a lot of the stuff that gets sung in the contemporary worship "scene" is inappropriate and sometimes flat-out erroneous. For example, God, Who reveals Himself in detail in His Word, is not "Indescribable." Sorry, Chris, I like your song, but He isn't.
This puts me in a really weird place, because playing this music in Churches is almost all I do anymore.
I want to be really careful here. I do not want those with whom I work to think that I believe they are some kind of heretics. They aren't. I am fortunate to work with some of the finest Christian men and women I've had the pleasure of meeting. This is a Church-cultural problem, not a personal one.
"So," one might say, "Mr. Convictions, if a lot of what is going on is wrong, then you should resign and not take Church gigs anymore." Well, I've thought about that pretty seriously. Prayed about it, even. I don't believe that's the best course of action (and no, I don't need the money that bad).
By God's grace, I have a unique position from which to speak to these issues to the people who choose or write worship music. Sometimes directly, other times by merely being present as someone who sees things another way. I've earned their trust and respect. God gives those things as tools to be used for His purposes. If God has given me influence with them, then maybe I can make an impact.
So, unless He tells me otherwise, I play the inside game. One of two things will happen--I'll be an instrument for reform or I will be reformed because I'm the one who's jacked.
In the meantime, when necessary, I pray. "We don't know any better, Lord, and we earnestly desire to worship You as You command, in reverence and godly fear. Bring that about."
Worship Leading and the Drummer, part 3
What should be primary in the drummer's mind as he leads the
Church in singing praise songs?
The drum part.
Sounds obvious, but how many of y'all first thought of something "spiritual?" God, Jesus, praise, worshipy thoughts...No. The drummer serving in the Church needs to focus on being a drummer.
Let's back up.
Pietism is at base gnostic or neoplatonic in its world-denying spiritualism. The mundane and the material is not as "holy" as the immaterial, emotional religious thoughts in a man's head. One should be "baptising" the mundane things by thinking spiritual things as one goes about doing them. This has lead to confusion and, for our purposes here, a lot of really crappy drumming. If a drummer has a servant's heart, or really loves Jesus, or is very enthusiastic in his worship then it's okay that he doesn't practice and can't play very well. After all, God is happy because of his good intentions.
Well, I don't think He is, but we'll get to that. Firstly, though, let's understand the Biblical and Reformed idea of vocation. God created the world good. God gave Father Adam a task to subdue it. He gave His only Son to redeem it after Adam fell. The material world is not evil, men are. Adam's work was originally holy. The work of those redeemed in the Second Adam is also holy, insofar as they are obedient in that good calling. So, as we often say, all of life is worship. Our day to day, matter-of-fact living is done as good works unto the Lord.
This is not changed by the fact that some of those good works include special, set-aside weekly corporate worship. All of life is worship, and some of life is special worship. That doesn't make it more spiritual; it makes it part of the flow of our lives. Therefore, one is not more of a Christian when he is singing a hymn than he is when he was eating breakfast that morning.
This means that God is not dishonored or ignored when, in service to Him and His Church, I am thinking of where the bass drum goes instead of thinking "Jesus, Jesus, Jesus..." I have a responsibility to Him to focus my attention on playing well for Jesus' sake. If I fail in the task He has set before me to do for Him, even if I'm distracted by my thoughts of Him, then I'm not really offering my worship as He has given it to me to offer, am I?
So, the drummer is to enter the Holy of Holies with a pure heart (BTW, "heart" is not "emotions" in Scripture, but I digresss), there to duly serve the Lord by competently and deliberately executing those tasks which have been assigned to him, namely, pointing out to everyone where the words go by putting notes in the right places. To the extent he does that well, I believe God is pleased with his worship. Thinking, "I love You" while making a train wreck of the hymns of the Church ain't gonna make it suck less...to Him.
Church in singing praise songs?
The drum part.
Sounds obvious, but how many of y'all first thought of something "spiritual?" God, Jesus, praise, worshipy thoughts...No. The drummer serving in the Church needs to focus on being a drummer.
Let's back up.
Pietism is at base gnostic or neoplatonic in its world-denying spiritualism. The mundane and the material is not as "holy" as the immaterial, emotional religious thoughts in a man's head. One should be "baptising" the mundane things by thinking spiritual things as one goes about doing them. This has lead to confusion and, for our purposes here, a lot of really crappy drumming. If a drummer has a servant's heart, or really loves Jesus, or is very enthusiastic in his worship then it's okay that he doesn't practice and can't play very well. After all, God is happy because of his good intentions.
Well, I don't think He is, but we'll get to that. Firstly, though, let's understand the Biblical and Reformed idea of vocation. God created the world good. God gave Father Adam a task to subdue it. He gave His only Son to redeem it after Adam fell. The material world is not evil, men are. Adam's work was originally holy. The work of those redeemed in the Second Adam is also holy, insofar as they are obedient in that good calling. So, as we often say, all of life is worship. Our day to day, matter-of-fact living is done as good works unto the Lord.
This is not changed by the fact that some of those good works include special, set-aside weekly corporate worship. All of life is worship, and some of life is special worship. That doesn't make it more spiritual; it makes it part of the flow of our lives. Therefore, one is not more of a Christian when he is singing a hymn than he is when he was eating breakfast that morning.
This means that God is not dishonored or ignored when, in service to Him and His Church, I am thinking of where the bass drum goes instead of thinking "Jesus, Jesus, Jesus..." I have a responsibility to Him to focus my attention on playing well for Jesus' sake. If I fail in the task He has set before me to do for Him, even if I'm distracted by my thoughts of Him, then I'm not really offering my worship as He has given it to me to offer, am I?
So, the drummer is to enter the Holy of Holies with a pure heart (BTW, "heart" is not "emotions" in Scripture, but I digresss), there to duly serve the Lord by competently and deliberately executing those tasks which have been assigned to him, namely, pointing out to everyone where the words go by putting notes in the right places. To the extent he does that well, I believe God is pleased with his worship. Thinking, "I love You" while making a train wreck of the hymns of the Church ain't gonna make it suck less...to Him.
Worship Leading and the Drummer, Again
I'm to critique a drummer for a local Church with which I'm involved this week. It got me started thinking what I would teach guys who do what I do if I had the time...which I never do. A lesson is never long enough to do more than address the issues directly related to hitting a drum.
But there's so much more to it than that. There's an entire matrix of aesthetic, philosophical, theological, even eschatological presuppositions that determine the drummer's approach to what he's doing when he's playing in the Church. Then there's the pressure of the prevailing culture within the Church, the leadership's particular musical choices and decisions, just all kinds of stuff to deal with before even playing a note.
Then there's all the background issues with the playing. One can assume an ability to adequately and immediately execute anything that would be required by the music, but one would be assuming quite a lot. Most people playing praise music in Churches don't have those skills. In principle, that should be the minimum requirement to get to play at all. But we're so far behind that to require that just isn't possible. For that, we ought to repent and ask for mercy.
So let's begin with some philosophical considerations. What primarily is to be going on within the drummer's mind as he leads worship? I'll examine that next posting.
But there's so much more to it than that. There's an entire matrix of aesthetic, philosophical, theological, even eschatological presuppositions that determine the drummer's approach to what he's doing when he's playing in the Church. Then there's the pressure of the prevailing culture within the Church, the leadership's particular musical choices and decisions, just all kinds of stuff to deal with before even playing a note.
Then there's all the background issues with the playing. One can assume an ability to adequately and immediately execute anything that would be required by the music, but one would be assuming quite a lot. Most people playing praise music in Churches don't have those skills. In principle, that should be the minimum requirement to get to play at all. But we're so far behind that to require that just isn't possible. For that, we ought to repent and ask for mercy.
So let's begin with some philosophical considerations. What primarily is to be going on within the drummer's mind as he leads worship? I'll examine that next posting.
Like an old pair of jeans...
Like a comfy pair of slippers....
Like a perfect martini with my feet propped up....
Like sleeping in on a rainy day...
Like a long nap with the cats...
Played this weekend with the Smith Band. All was right with the world once more. How I love Stephen, Star, Aric and Stuart. All that and Voddie Baucham, too.
Like a perfect martini with my feet propped up....
Like sleeping in on a rainy day...
Like a long nap with the cats...
Played this weekend with the Smith Band. All was right with the world once more. How I love Stephen, Star, Aric and Stuart. All that and Voddie Baucham, too.
Very Interesting
This weekend, I led worship with the lovely and talented Donna Stuart at a conference for young women. It was the typical weekend schedule--Friday night, Saturday morning and evening worship followed by a speaker.
At this event, led by women, attended by women (about 300), created for women, was there a big, sappy, cry-fest invitation? No. There was praise, thanksgiving, confession, repentence, and celebration.
The chicks are more manly than a lot of the men.
At this event, led by women, attended by women (about 300), created for women, was there a big, sappy, cry-fest invitation? No. There was praise, thanksgiving, confession, repentence, and celebration.
The chicks are more manly than a lot of the men.
Thinking Myself Out of a Job
Leading worship in various Churches and at different Christian events, I find myself occasionally in some settings in which I am forced to seriously examine what it is that is going on.
Now, whenever I'm doing something corporately with other Christians I always ask, "What are we doing?" That's one of the reasons I belong to a liturgical Church (which is a misnomer; all Churches have a liturgy).
Far too many of the events at which I find myself playing are saturated in revivalism, and I'm starting to really question the propriety of that mindset.
Revivalism as it is practiced in the Evangelical Church is the brain-child of Charles Finney, a pedal-to-the-metal heretic, any way you slice it. Why would we want to imitate his failed attempt (research it if you doubt me) to bring revival to New England in the second "Great Awakening?" It leads to all kinds of goofiness, unsurprisingly, or as my friend Aric said, "It was started by a heretic. How could it possibly go wrong?"
Revivalism says of God that He is not already giving us all that we need. He is not currently doing something which we need or want Him to do. We need more than what we've got (insert Tozer's famous line here).
I dispute that. I deny it. Hard. We do not need to gather together and seduce God into giving us what we want. We ought not treat Him as an idol we can beat when the crops aren't good.
Revivalism is skubulon. Reformation is what is needed. Reformation in our worship changes what we are doing, it centers our desires on God's will and not our felt needs and allows us to see and rest in the fact that God's grace is sufficient.
Now, how do I respond to this growing conviction given my job? Do I quit, be a mercenary, or hope to exert a corrective influence when I find myself amid weirdness?
Should I question each call that comes my way? Maybe that's the answer. I work with excellent, exemplary worship leaders and speakers, and maybe as long as I know who's involved I will know which way things will go.
Maybe, simply by virtue of the presence of leaders who get it, the whole thing won't be a sloppy, emotionalistic mess.
There's more. I'll add it later once I've got this more worked out.
Now, whenever I'm doing something corporately with other Christians I always ask, "What are we doing?" That's one of the reasons I belong to a liturgical Church (which is a misnomer; all Churches have a liturgy).
Far too many of the events at which I find myself playing are saturated in revivalism, and I'm starting to really question the propriety of that mindset.
Revivalism as it is practiced in the Evangelical Church is the brain-child of Charles Finney, a pedal-to-the-metal heretic, any way you slice it. Why would we want to imitate his failed attempt (research it if you doubt me) to bring revival to New England in the second "Great Awakening?" It leads to all kinds of goofiness, unsurprisingly, or as my friend Aric said, "It was started by a heretic. How could it possibly go wrong?"
Revivalism says of God that He is not already giving us all that we need. He is not currently doing something which we need or want Him to do. We need more than what we've got (insert Tozer's famous line here).
I dispute that. I deny it. Hard. We do not need to gather together and seduce God into giving us what we want. We ought not treat Him as an idol we can beat when the crops aren't good.
Revivalism is skubulon. Reformation is what is needed. Reformation in our worship changes what we are doing, it centers our desires on God's will and not our felt needs and allows us to see and rest in the fact that God's grace is sufficient.
Now, how do I respond to this growing conviction given my job? Do I quit, be a mercenary, or hope to exert a corrective influence when I find myself amid weirdness?
Should I question each call that comes my way? Maybe that's the answer. I work with excellent, exemplary worship leaders and speakers, and maybe as long as I know who's involved I will know which way things will go.
Maybe, simply by virtue of the presence of leaders who get it, the whole thing won't be a sloppy, emotionalistic mess.
There's more. I'll add it later once I've got this more worked out.
Worship Leading and the Drummer
This is a message I posted from the FeverDream forum. A joke of mine sparked a discussion of some current trends in the Praise and Worship, um, "industry," and this was part of my contribution to the conversation.
The worship leader is just that. He is the shepherd. It's my job to lead the congregation's singing rhythmically. This means that I'm to serve them by playing in such a way that the lyrics they are singing fall easily into place. I "point" to where they go, if you will. Additionally, my own creativity comes into play when I highlight or augment particular words or phrases with either a dynamic turn or some rhythmic move that draws especial attention to them, or when I do the same to an instrumental passage with the intention of creating a rhythmic "tension" which will resolve when the congregation comes in to sing again.
In all these things, the worst possible thing I can do is try to draw attention to myself. I can very easily play things that will make people take notice of my abilities or creativity. I can very easily take the drum part to some (to me) way more interesting and expressive places. I shouldn't do that. My personality comes to bear in the way that I lead, not in the way that I try to insert things into the performance because I think they'd be cool.
In short, you're performing no matter what. It is the orientation of the performance that is key. Am I trying to entertain the man in the pew or am I trying to lead his words to the Lord in union with the Church? Am I as part of the diversity in the congregation attempting to impose unity (thereby reflecting the Trinity fully) or am I trying to stay diverse? Am I asserting by my actions that my individuality is ultimate (or the reverse which is also an error) or that unity and diversity are both equally ultimate in God?
The worship leader is just that. He is the shepherd. It's my job to lead the congregation's singing rhythmically. This means that I'm to serve them by playing in such a way that the lyrics they are singing fall easily into place. I "point" to where they go, if you will. Additionally, my own creativity comes into play when I highlight or augment particular words or phrases with either a dynamic turn or some rhythmic move that draws especial attention to them, or when I do the same to an instrumental passage with the intention of creating a rhythmic "tension" which will resolve when the congregation comes in to sing again.
In all these things, the worst possible thing I can do is try to draw attention to myself. I can very easily play things that will make people take notice of my abilities or creativity. I can very easily take the drum part to some (to me) way more interesting and expressive places. I shouldn't do that. My personality comes to bear in the way that I lead, not in the way that I try to insert things into the performance because I think they'd be cool.
In short, you're performing no matter what. It is the orientation of the performance that is key. Am I trying to entertain the man in the pew or am I trying to lead his words to the Lord in union with the Church? Am I as part of the diversity in the congregation attempting to impose unity (thereby reflecting the Trinity fully) or am I trying to stay diverse? Am I asserting by my actions that my individuality is ultimate (or the reverse which is also an error) or that unity and diversity are both equally ultimate in God?
A Long Way To Go
I had a rehearsal tonight for a Church gig that's coming up. The gig calls for learning six songs from a recording and sheet music (the sheet music is actually for percussion, so I had to transcribe my own drumset charts). The music is fairly typical praise and worship. It's not terribly complicated but it is fairly structured. The music will be performed to a click track, a recorded metronome which keeps the band in sync with some video.
The directors of the band were very kind and complimentary, evidently impressed that I played the songs well in this first rehearsal. This set me to thinking and reflecting on the way home.
There seem to be a few people in charge of music in these various places I play that regard me as some kind of ninja with super powers when it comes to this sort of thing. When I come in and do the job the way I think it should be done, I get treated as if I'm some sort of Jedi.
I don't get that. This isn't some false humility on my part. I work very hard and I certainly know what I'm capable of, musically. But the thing is, adequately performing the music at an acceptable level of quality for leading a large congregation is the minimum that a musician should deliver. Yet, it seems to be rare enough in the Churches that a person who can actually do the job well is something of an anomaly.
That sucks. Amateurish levels of musicianship ought not be common in the household of God. Not among those charged with leading the worship, at least. If I can stand out by just being able to do it, what does that say for the average level of quality in the Church overall?
We have got to start regarding excellence as a duty. Merely wanting to serve is not enough to qualify one for worship leading. It is adequate for apprenticeship. I'm not trying to discourage anyone here. I'm all for encouraging those who want to serve, but part of that service is learning the craft enough to do the job well enough for the service of the Church.
The directors of the band were very kind and complimentary, evidently impressed that I played the songs well in this first rehearsal. This set me to thinking and reflecting on the way home.
There seem to be a few people in charge of music in these various places I play that regard me as some kind of ninja with super powers when it comes to this sort of thing. When I come in and do the job the way I think it should be done, I get treated as if I'm some sort of Jedi.
I don't get that. This isn't some false humility on my part. I work very hard and I certainly know what I'm capable of, musically. But the thing is, adequately performing the music at an acceptable level of quality for leading a large congregation is the minimum that a musician should deliver. Yet, it seems to be rare enough in the Churches that a person who can actually do the job well is something of an anomaly.
That sucks. Amateurish levels of musicianship ought not be common in the household of God. Not among those charged with leading the worship, at least. If I can stand out by just being able to do it, what does that say for the average level of quality in the Church overall?
We have got to start regarding excellence as a duty. Merely wanting to serve is not enough to qualify one for worship leading. It is adequate for apprenticeship. I'm not trying to discourage anyone here. I'm all for encouraging those who want to serve, but part of that service is learning the craft enough to do the job well enough for the service of the Church.
My Drum Teacher
Mr. Mike Lefebvre, my teacher, passed away this morning.
I met Mike back in college. Though I had been in band all through school, I really did not know too much about playing the drumset. I knew nothing about jazz. I was very fortunate to get to study with Mr. Joel Fulgham, who pretty much overwhelmed me with a world of information I had no idea existed. Joel left my school the next semester, and Mike took his position. Over the next several years he would pour his knowledge into me and teach me how to be a drummer, musician, teacher, and gentleman.
He never settled for less than the very best from me. He wouldn't tolerate laziness. He saw in me both the desire and the potential to make drumming my vocation, and he made sure I was equipped with all that I would need. Whatever I have managed to become as a drummer and a teacher is almost entirely the result of his kindness to me. I will spend the rest of my career struggling to become worthy of his legacy.
The Lord in His providence placed Mike Lefebvre in my path, and I am forever grateful. Most of all, though, much more than any gain I have taken from that relationship, I am grateful that the Lord made Himself known to my teacher, and in His mercy, called him out of darkness and into His marvelous light.
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