A few words from the prophets

I was reading Daniel, and subsequently Amos, recently, and thought I would share a couple verses with y’all. If you’ll turn with me to chapter six, either book.

Daniel 6:18 states “neither were instruments of musick brought before him.” Darius, against his better judgment, had agreed to cast Daniel into the den of lions, but spent an uneasy night in prayer (presumably), fasting, and with no musicians to lighten his heavy burden.

How much do we rely on music in our praying or otherwise daily living? As a musician myself, I have spent literally countless hours driving in the car while listening to music of some sort. Music to pass the time. Music to study. Music to edify. Music that ministers to the heart. But when I enter my prayer closet, I have to shut the music off. I can’t have it. As much as some good gospel can enhance prayer time it just isn’t for me. As a musician I am too focused on the music. Darius didn’t want the distraction either that night. Even though he had expressed a word of faith that Daniel’s God would deliver him (v. 16), he was still concerned about the fate of his trusted servant as he consigned him to what would seem to be a certain death.

Amos 6 starts out “Woe to them that are at ease in Zion, and trust in the mountain of Samaria” and in verse four Amos writes that these Israelites were lying on beds of ivory and stretching themselves upon their couches. This was a population accustomed to luxury. Sound familiar? I suppose I must take a step back and remind you I just spent four months living in Nigeria, so that even now, while unemployed and scrounging for scraps of food, we are living the “luxe” life of unlimited clean water (hot or cold whenever we want), “always on” power, and having complete control over the temperature in our house. If it’s 90 degrees outside it’s 75 inside. If it’s 55 outside, still 75 inside. We are living in paradise.

But one of the luxuries Amos calls out is music. He chastises the people for chanting “to the sound of the viol” and for their desire to become highly skilled in improvisation (assuming my interpretation of the numerous translations I have consulted of Amos 6:5 is correct – Tanak, NIV, LXX). I take a little umbrage with this. I pride myself on a well-practiced tune. Having spent my entire undergraduate degree pursuing perfection on the piano, I have a bit of a different take when it comes to seeking perfection than most, maybe, but I’m not like that now.

Through no one’s fault but my own, last night I was called on at the last minute to be the ‘primary’ keyboardist for the service. I was querying the worship leader whether she had the music for the songs she was leading. She said “you’re kidding, right?” I wasn’t kidding, actually, but I less than half expected she would have it. It wasn’t that I didn’t know the songs. It was more or less a simple desire to rely on the crutch of having the chords in front of me. Not having the chords nor sufficient time to practice, I simply said, “You won’t mind if I hit a few wrong notes here or there, do you? Of course you don’t know anything about that!” She is a fellow keyboardist and so I used that insider disclaimer to disavow myself should I plunk a wrong chord here or there. And whaddya know. I did hit a wrong chord. I played a V chord once when I should have played a IV chord. Oops. But I no longer sweat the small stuff.

Would I like to play everything note perfect and with a high degree of excellence and complexity? Absolutely. I thoroughly enjoy a well-practiced song performed flawlessly. Do I expect that I will be able to output that kind of performance without putting in some practice time? Absolutely not. I was gearing up to some climactic conclusion. But I don’t have it. Sometimes, what you see (or hear) is what you get.

The photo? Satellite image of the ruins of Babylon, c. 2009.

What I’m reading? “Essays” by Michel de Montaigne. Also portions of a “History of the Ancient Near East” by Marc van de Mieroop.

What I’m listening to? Uh… I don’t think I turned on any music once today. I sang an Igbo song for a presentation of our trip that I gave to an Independent Living facility this morning. Here’s a clip of the original: “Imela Oh,” translates as “Thank You.”