Thoughts on Christian Music Education by Richard Hickam

I’m a music geek - always have been, always will be. One summer in the early 1980’s, Cohutta Springs Camp (a Christian youth camp in Northern Georgia) was experimenting with ideas for different summer camp themes, and they decided to offer a band camp. I was there along with my brother and about 15 others from different parts of the Georgia/Tennessee area who just couldn’t get enough wind instrument fun (though I suspect some were made to be there by their mothers).  It’s been that way my whole life. Late last night I was attaching velcro on various electric guitar pedals to stick them in a pedalboard. These type of activities happen regularly.  I’m 43. I still can’t stop experimenting with sounds and music and thinking about new ways to use them for God’s kingdom.

I wonder how many people reading this article were in a band, orchestra, or choir group in a Christian school.  I wonder how many are using what they learned in these institutions for kingdom growth today.  Bassoon offertory in church?  Doubtful. Singing for the widows, orphans, or prisoners? I don’t know. Christian institutions have taken cues from the public school sector in regard to repertoire, concerts, and tours. Those are not necessarily all bad things.  Students may play or sing all the way through graduate school . . . and then what? Many people stop after their student experience and never use their gifts again except for congregational or shower singing.

How do we transform thinking about learning music for art’s sake into using music as a lifelong pursuit for Christ?  How can we teach smaller musical groups that can be more useful for practicality in a variety of Christian experiences rather than focusing only on large group ensembles?  How can our tours that only visit Christian institutions instead witness to those who need to hear the message of Christ through song?

In my later years of teaching music, I was challenged to take my groups to orphanages, women’s shelters, schools for the mentally challenged, and a prison. As I made the shift away from visiting only Christian institutions and amusement parks, something inside my students and me began to change as well. A larger perspective on the ministry of Christ began to open up.

So, you’re not a musician, and what does this have to do with you? Well, each one of us has been given a gift, and we need to examine closely how we are using it. Merely tending the local flock might not be enough; there’s a whole world out there that is waiting to hear about Christ through what you have to offer.

So whether you eat or drink or whatever you do, do it all for the glory of God."--1 Corinthians 10:31

Richard Hickam

I Forgive You, Jesus by Tami Cinquemani

“Auntie, do you eat the chicken?”

“Yes, Honey, I eat the chicken.”

Heartbroken, my friend’s little niece’s lip trembled as she put on a brave smile, “That’s okay if you eat the chicken, Auntie.  I love you anyway.”

Ashley was four years old at the time.  Having been raised a vegetarian, her parents had been teaching her that she should not judge people if they ate meat.  This was very difficult for a young child with a tender and sensitive heart for all living creatures.

Finding out her favorite aunt “ate the chicken,” however, paled in comparison to when she discovered that Jesus “ate the fish.” Again, with brave determination to follow her parents’ counsel and not judge someone because of their diet, in her prayer before bed that night she said, “I forgive you, Jesus, for eating the fish.”

When my friend told me this story, I laughed.  It’s a precious story – because the heart of this little girl is so pure and so innocent that this was her sincere response to trying to get her mind around Jesus doing something that just seemed so inconceivable. Ah, children!  They say the darndest things, don’t they?

But wait a minute – don’t we do the same thing?  We may not be so bold as to come out and say it, but don’t we sometimes believe Jesus did the wrong thing? Isn’t it unimaginable to us that he did things like drink wine, party with sinners, slack off on Sabbath observance, fail to condemn homosexuals, obsess about serving the poor, and offer what seems to be pretty “cheap” grace?

How do I get my mind around Jesus telling me to “go and do likewise” (Luke 10:37) when what he did seems so inconceivable?  Maybe, like Ashley, I need to grow in my understanding of who Jesus is before I fully comprehend the perfect example he left for me to follow.

Tami Cinquemani

Does It Matter? by Chad Hess

In the tech world this week, there has been a lot of discussion over the pronunciation of the graphics format .gif.  Gif is an old graphics format that has seen resurgence on the Internet as looping videos of short silly things.  There has long been a debate as to whether the g is a hard g or a soft g in its pronunciation.  A hard g like "graphics" fits the name, as gif is an acronym for Graphic Interchange Format.  A soft g like "jiffy" could refer to the time measurement in computers.  This week, the creator of the .gif format said that it was pronounced with a soft g, and anyone pronouncing it with a hard g is wrong.

Before you stop reading out of boredom, let me guess what you're thinking: "Who cares?  I don't know what a .gif is, and I certainly don't care how its pronounced!"  I mention this to illustrate a point.  What may be a long-standing debate of importance within a given group of people is absolutely ridiculous to outsiders.  The same thing can easily happen in the church, but we don't see it because we stay within our little group. 

Some theological debates are important and should be discussed.  When Christian leaders twist a natural disaster like the tornado that devastated Oklahoma last week into a vengeful act of judgment by an angry God, they malign the character of God, and we should fight against it.  However, those who insist that the King James Bible is more pure and is the only version that should be used are fighting a fight that doesn't need to be fought.  There may be a place for those kinds of discussions in some groups, but it's not a fight that should define us.  To paraphrase Matthew 23:23, don't get so caught up in the little issues that we ignore the more important ones.

Chad Hess

Ten Things Churches Should Learn From Bars by John Monday

10.  Parking’s not a problem if there’s something worth walking across the street for.

9.  Partaking too much can make you think you're smarter than you are.

8.  If you’re talking loud when the music stops, everyone’s going to look at you.

7.  The right environment can make you think you’re a better dancer than you are; don’t fool yourself.

6.  People come because they need a friend. Don’t be a jerk.

5.  Be nice to the staff.

4.  Lectures rarely work; kindness rarely fails.

3.  Sometimes people need a ride home.

2.  No matter how stupid you act today, you’re welcome back tomorrow.

1.  None of us look that good when the lights come on.

John Monday

What My Mother Didn't Do by Andy McDonald

I’ve never been one, nor will ever be one, but like all of us, I have one.  In addition, for 34 years I’ve been married to the mother of our children. So while my thoughts about “mother” are those of an observer, I think they are still valid.

I feel bad for mothers; their work is never done.  They do so much that goes unnoticed and, because of not noticing, it  is often not appreciated. In addition, they are notorious for adopting all the cultural pressure to produce wonderful (if not perfect) children.  In today’s world, the economics of most families adds the pressure of being an employee. I could go on and on about the challenges and difficulties of motherhood, but I’m not going to.  Neither am I going to create a list of all a mother “should” do.

What I want to share are some things my mother didn’t do. (Your mother’s “didn’t do” list may be very different, but this is a list about my mother.)

Mom didn’t make excuses for why we couldn’t do something. In fact, looking back I now realize there we tons of things we weren’t able to do.  Whether the reason was economics, time constraints, where we lived, know-how, or a million other potential excuses, I don’t remember mother ever making excuses about what we couldn’t do.  Instead, she was cleverly finding all the things we could do.

I watched this when she became a grandmother.  When they were with her, our children and their cousin had a sense of limitlessness. While there might have been plenty of things she wouldn’t let them do, they never felt denied.  That’s my memory too. Whether it was a craft, a game of hide-and-seek, a walk, making something from nothing, or learning something new, her ability to divert and do rather than deny and don’t was – and is – her hallmark.  No excuses!

Mom didn’t rush.  Oh sure, there were times when we had to hurry, but she had a pace and rhythm of going about her life that never seemed frantic.  There may have been times when we, her children, might have wished her to rush a bit, but the model of living life at her pace, engaging life, smelling roses, watching a bird, and being with children were all made sweeter by the reality that, no matter how hurried, watching her live was almost a picture in timelessness. No rushing!

Mom didn’t hold back with worrisome caution to self-protect.  Mom was always willing to engage – sometimes to her own detriment.  I remember while growing up that, in volunteer church work, she should have been awarded the highest honors.  It seemed like she was serving everywhere.  In addition, she wanted to engage with everyone, which meant we were often the last to leave services.  I remember one day after church.  She had been greeting and catching up with everyone, and my dad was tired of waiting.  He walked over to mom, whisked her off her feet, and carried her out the church door!

This past fall on our trip to New York (her first visit), we failed to explain that conversation with strangers on the subway wasn’t protocol.  Her granddaughter and I enjoyed watching her strike up conversations with everyone from teens, business people, a Hassidic Jewish woman and her children, etc., etc. No caution to self-protect!

Mom didn’t vacillate in her love.  There have been plenty of times when I know she’s been disappointed about behavior, choices, and processes that frustrate, but her love was steady.  There was no fear that making a poor choice or even acting badly toward her would jeopardize her love. Watching her undying love for her dogs, cats, and any other creature she might befriend, seeing her care for some of the “down and outers,” and seeing her devotion and love for dad and her unfailing love for people made both her children and her grandchildren confident that nothing they could ever do would cause any vacillation in her love.  No conditional love!

While we may think of God as “Our Father,” it seems to me that his most self-identifying quality may be most noticed in and learned from our mothers.  (However, dads can do this, too.) When God wants to identify himself, or if he had only one thing he could tell us about himself, I believe it is that he has unfailing love and faithfulness for each of us.  And while that is the one trait that most defines him, I think all four of the things I realize my mother didn’t do are awfully God-like.

No excuses, but instead enabling.

No rush, but instead a calm rhythm of life.

No caution to self-protect, but free engagement in life

No vacillating love, but unfailing love and faithfulness.

Thanks Mom for all you didn’t do!

Andy McDonald

One Of "Those" Weekends by Greg Creek

This weekend was one of “those” weekends. As a minister, “those” weekends come around more often than not. They’re the weekends where events coalesce to form a perfect storm. The events spill from one to the next, sometimes overlapping until the day ends in a sudden halt where I’m so tired the bed sounds incredible, and so wired I have to unwind before I can go.

Lest anyone think I’m complaining, please know these weekends are amazing – especially this time of year. As a youth pastor, these end-of-year events aren’t typically meetings or planning sessions. These events are the culmination of a year or multiple years’ work. They are a showcase of talent or a sendoff into the next exciting journey in life.

Friday night I found myself celebrating the lives of nine high school students. The journeys they have been on are quite astounding and, hearing of their plans for next year, I can’t wait for updates. But it wasn’t just those nine students and their families.  People from the larger church body were present as well. I was able to hear funny and inspiring stories about these students. I was given access to years of memories and laughs by people readily willing to share with me.

Saturday, I spent the morning hanging out with my church, playing a piano made out of bananas. Crazy sounding, I know, but totally awesome and fun.

The afternoon, I shifted gears to celebrate the retirement of a teacher who has been in the profession for 39 years, most of them at one school. As more and more people kept pouring into the school to celebrate this man’s career, it was amazing to see all the lives that had been impacted by this educator. I was again allowed entry into a remarkable place of stories, recollections, and terrible yearbook photos.

In a few hours, I was rapt in awe as two of my students performed their end-of-year recital and then celebrated with a graduating high school senior.

This is my job, or at least the profound side of it. I am allowed entry into the accomplishments, joys, and successes of my students. This weekend was one of “those” weekends . . . and it was awesome!

Greg Creek