Giano sat behind the dark velvet curtains once again, just as he had so many times before. He liked this point in the performance. He could hear the crowd slowly gathering together just yards away from him. Shuffling the brochures, whispering to each other trying to impress one another with their knowledge of his work; though he knew, not a single one of them truly understood It. They could hear, but they could not feel; as one who can smell a feast, but not eat it. No matter however, he knew It. Now was not the time to worry about things such as this, it was almost that time.
He stood up and slowly walked out onto the stage. He maintained his image, wearing the classic black and white vestments as tradition demanded of him. The black cape-like garment ending as a lizard’s tongue. Giano understood how little these things mattered to It, however, his expenses told him otherwise. After all, there was no harm in the show was there? As long as the focus of his work relied on the singular It, his performance existed to peak and maintain their interest. But how few understood. Now was certainly not the time to dwell on such intricacies. After all, he was providing an experience. He was providing happiness for those who had little. Or maybe they were only here for sophistication’s sake… Nonetheless, he would do his work as he had deemed he should. It was not the fault of his audience that he focused on It so much. They were here for a show and Giano Jotello was being paid to give it to them.
Finally, with a simple (yet surprisingly well practiced and intricately thought out) flourish of the curtails, he sat on the bench. Even to this day he had not overcome the sight of that which was before him. The white contrasted with black. The sleek look of the thing itself, it was something truly beautiful. But a sham of a creation compared to that which he was about to display. If ever an audience had been quiet before, the overarching silence was as a clamor compared to the hushed surrounding. Surely such silence and respect would never again come over a crowd of individuals until the second coming of the Christ.
Then his fingers lightly touched the keys of the piano. Not yet depressing them, he waiting (for just a moment), with a practiced hesitation which only a true master of showmanship could foreknow. And just before the audience grew impatient with his sloth-like process, he began. He would start slow. Every note brought about with such delicate intricacy as the average man could not comprehend to produce. The inextricable beauty of his compilation was almost angelic in its properties. But he waited here for only a moment. Soon his left hand moved from a simple repeating C, to a chord. At the same time, his right hand would begin to make use of eighth notes instead of the original quartered ones. Very soon his slow melody has become more complex.
The audience bought that which he had sold to them with ease. He led them on a rope from simple beauty, to a much more complex emotion. Even in this state of mind, they did not understand. For Giano, each note held its own story. If he only had the time, he would contemplate that note for its whole value. Absorb its emotion to understand It all the more. Then, he would deeply think of that one, then that one, then the next. And so on and so forth he would move until he knew each one intimately. Only then could he understand It as he wished. But no matter, the music reverberated through his being nonetheless. In it was contained majesty, love, mystery, but he could only portray the bare surface of these to those outside. If only they understood!
Just then he transitioned once again. This time he moved from the peak of the song, the moment in which his whole skill was displayed, down to the saddest piece he had ever penned. Its utter simplicity did not shadow the effect in the slightest. As if by use of remote control, the crowd was moved to tears on his command. The men and women alike reduced to a blubbering mess. But for what reason? Most of the women cried simply because they saw the same action performed by the societal elites. And the men, they wept to impress to women nearest them. They did not even have the vaguest recognition of It, but Giano did.
And so he played. Even if the only true audience in the amphitheater was himself, he played for the most captivated group he had yet seen. His heart taken captive by its own creation. His feelings so intense that he felt no real need to show them externally through tears or contorted expression. Rather he allowed his soul recompense through an internal rejoice only found in that beautiful, life-encapsulating wholeness he found only when he played his music. Giano once said that he could almost hear a melodious sound in that moment when he first met Him and that his work was merely a project of reconstruction of the most perfect harmony even he had ever known.
However, now was not the occasion in which to think of such things. Now was the time to focus. Time, once again, had flown by as only it could when he sat at the bench and the night had dwindled without giving him even the quietest warning. As he approached the finale, perfection was necessary. Were he to jar even one false note at this crucial time, he would lose his wonderful, (paying) crowd. He owed them something much more. Maybe he owed it to them to teach what It was…
Of all times, places and dates now was not the correct one to dwell. So, with once again practiced detail, he slowly quieted the song. All the while slowing the tempo. Reducing the complexity. He wound himself down to the end, and touched the last note with such an airy lightness as nothing else could project with vaguest utterance. And so he sat. He waited for the moment which he knew was to come. He counted the seconds. (Seven to be exact, just as he had projected.) Then started to turn towards the audience, his audience, as they burst into thunderous applause. He gracefully rose to his feet and bowed before them. Once, twice and then a third time, making sure to look certain individuals in the eye as he did so. Then slowly walked off the stage.
Tomorrow he would perform again, to another audience which would laugh and cry. They would eat out of the palm of his hand, but would not begin to understand It. No matter the melody, no matter the tempo or perfection of playing style he could not make them know It. Never feel, only hear. Never taste, only smell. As he sat pondering these things, he heard a faint rustling. His curiosity aroused, and any distraction a blessing, he turned and peered out into the darkness expecting to see some distinguished gentlemen wishing to speak, but saw something he did not expect. There stood a small and filthy boy in the center of the room.
Giano slowly crept over to the boy, who looked no older than the age of ten and appeared frozen as a deer in the view of a car’s headlights. He asked the boy what it was that he wanted and the boy told him of his love of Giano’s music. The boy was inspired and wished only to be like him some day. And so, without a word, Giano walked him over to the piano and began to teach. Time passed as the dreamlike state continued, for neither wished to leave. They stayed and dwelled in the music, an inexplicable love born into each of them. Into the early hours of the following day they played. Finally, the boy found it necessary to depart (likely to avoid a stiffer beating) and the two said their farewells. But just before the boy left, Giano noticed something, the fire in his eyes. It was the same as in his. In all of his years, through all of his careful contemplation and expertise not one had understood. Through a few simple hours of melodic ramblings, the boy had grown to understand It. He could taste It. He could feel It.
Few would understand why Giano cancelled the next day’s show; none would comprehend why the next two months were made void of his performances. That is, none except for Giano himself. People looked down on him with contempt as they learned of him becoming a lowly piano teacher to children, when he could have accomplished so much. But Giano did not care about such opinions, for before he had only instilled the vaguest curiosities in his listeners. Now, with the investment of his life into others, with his willingness to sacrifice and love, others began to fully understand the Passion.
Monday, 30 November 2009
Saturday, 28 November 2009
Displaying Christian Passion
Passion is an interesting thing. Easily mishandled, frequently misused, but necessary for any level of true accomplishment. It is put up on display for others to see, but is extremely difficult, (or in many cases impossible) to teach.
Only a shell of a life can exist without It
From personal experience, I find it easier to discuss It through the portrayal of a lesser Passion. The Pianist performs for captivated audiences (at least that is his hope). They sit in awe delving into the emotive state he has created for them through his outpouring. They listen with the intensiveness only attributed to a willing crowd. His mastery of the art controls them, and they sit in wonder of that which he has created. Nonetheless, they hold only a fraction of the art within them. The carefully planned melody can drive them to tears (if they only try hard enough), or the booming fifths evoke the primordial fighting spirit in them.
But they don’t entirely understand It
To him each note holds its own specific power. He understands It, because he has crafted it from the individual parts. More than hear, he can feel. More than comprehend, he can understand. His investment has come back with great reward, because only now he sees It. Highly personal, a part of who he is. The crescendos and diminuendos a reflection of who he is. In a sense, some duty has been performed. He thinks “maybe just one was inspired to perform the art… now another must take It up inside of him.”
However, he wishes they understood It
And yes, even music (as all things do) relates itself to the realm of Christendom. Such Passion exists in the personage of Christ, that we could scarcely call ourselves Christians without holding It as a by-product as that Decision. For those who understand, It pushes Itself up from the hidden places in response to those who do no know Him. We can spend all our waking moments giving instruction as to the Christian condition, but still only permeate the head rather than the heart.
We just wish they could understand It
Passion is a thing only transmitted through shared lives, not solely shared knowledge. It is for this reason that the pews are filled with those that have belief, but do not Believe. And so we strive. We fill the air with our meticulously formulated didactic, but lack the conformity in our lives to allow them to understand. (Or at least, this is the case for you if you are anything like me.) Letting them understand the Passion of the Christ comes through a coming alongside; a sharing of lives and willingness to present oneself, soul exposed.
Only Passion Itself can teach them to understand It
Only a shell of a life can exist without It
From personal experience, I find it easier to discuss It through the portrayal of a lesser Passion. The Pianist performs for captivated audiences (at least that is his hope). They sit in awe delving into the emotive state he has created for them through his outpouring. They listen with the intensiveness only attributed to a willing crowd. His mastery of the art controls them, and they sit in wonder of that which he has created. Nonetheless, they hold only a fraction of the art within them. The carefully planned melody can drive them to tears (if they only try hard enough), or the booming fifths evoke the primordial fighting spirit in them.
But they don’t entirely understand It
To him each note holds its own specific power. He understands It, because he has crafted it from the individual parts. More than hear, he can feel. More than comprehend, he can understand. His investment has come back with great reward, because only now he sees It. Highly personal, a part of who he is. The crescendos and diminuendos a reflection of who he is. In a sense, some duty has been performed. He thinks “maybe just one was inspired to perform the art… now another must take It up inside of him.”
However, he wishes they understood It
And yes, even music (as all things do) relates itself to the realm of Christendom. Such Passion exists in the personage of Christ, that we could scarcely call ourselves Christians without holding It as a by-product as that Decision. For those who understand, It pushes Itself up from the hidden places in response to those who do no know Him. We can spend all our waking moments giving instruction as to the Christian condition, but still only permeate the head rather than the heart.
We just wish they could understand It
Passion is a thing only transmitted through shared lives, not solely shared knowledge. It is for this reason that the pews are filled with those that have belief, but do not Believe. And so we strive. We fill the air with our meticulously formulated didactic, but lack the conformity in our lives to allow them to understand. (Or at least, this is the case for you if you are anything like me.) Letting them understand the Passion of the Christ comes through a coming alongside; a sharing of lives and willingness to present oneself, soul exposed.
Only Passion Itself can teach them to understand It
Tuesday, 10 November 2009
Who Am I?
(This was a note written to those in my Bible study, in hopes that they would better understand who I am.)
In order for people to better understand this group, it is necessary for them to understand who I am. I wouldn't even begin to pretend that the functionality of this group is dependant on my leadership skills or ability to teach, because in reality I have little experience with these kind of things. The only existing pretense I have to pioneer The Stand is a core temperature of 10,000 degrees Fahrenheit; a burning desire. Needless to say, I don't have it all down. Even when I'm at my best in my relationship with God I struggle to force my passion outside of the four corners of my mouth. Neverless I would have you all know what you see before you is a product of love. Nothing more, nothing less.
At times the center of all Christian thought might seem slightly cliche. It may even seem to be some kind of fraud or veneer used to cover something more sinister. If you think so I can't blame you. How many Christians do we have who only solidify the authenticity of the outside world's view of the Stained Glass Masquerade? To be honest, this is one of my greatest desires: to shatter the glass. We've grown so accustomed to our self-indulged infatuation with religious customs, that we've set up for ourselves some kind of false Christian faith. Why is it that people wear their Christian faith to "church" and take it off when they enter into the real world? It's because we've made "church" into some kind of facade. Some kind of holy place where we cover up who we truly are and try to act as God would have us for two hours a week. Why is it that so many pastor's have become so fake? Have we abandoned our search for God as we try to make people feel confortable? We worry so much about how church is "supposed to be done", that we're afraid to tell others about our problems and even, our triumphs in Christ's name. Who are we?
I guess I'm running free from the topic and should get back to telling you about me. Who am I? Actually, it's not particularly important where I fall on the scale. I am a beautiful mess. I am a degradate, lowly soul who is being raised up by God to dine with Him. And so are you... that is, if you proclaim Jesus Christ as your LORD and Saviour. Unfortunately, I'm still breaking glass in my own life, and never will finish 'til the day I die. I will grow closer to God until the day we meet. Soul exposed? Who is it that I strive to be like? Read the Bible and study Jesus for yourself, then you'll understand my role model.
Until that day when we meet seperate from all these circumstances, know this: I love God. Truly, I hold no other value than that alone. Any other things I have are only a bi-product of that one momentous truth. I have a passion for the lost, and just as much for those lost in their own faith. The believers that hold that Truth inside of them, but don't even realize the awesome glory of the mystery they've so thoughtlessly rationalized. This, at the true heart of all reality is the truth about who I am.
~Daniel
In order for people to better understand this group, it is necessary for them to understand who I am. I wouldn't even begin to pretend that the functionality of this group is dependant on my leadership skills or ability to teach, because in reality I have little experience with these kind of things. The only existing pretense I have to pioneer The Stand is a core temperature of 10,000 degrees Fahrenheit; a burning desire. Needless to say, I don't have it all down. Even when I'm at my best in my relationship with God I struggle to force my passion outside of the four corners of my mouth. Neverless I would have you all know what you see before you is a product of love. Nothing more, nothing less.
At times the center of all Christian thought might seem slightly cliche. It may even seem to be some kind of fraud or veneer used to cover something more sinister. If you think so I can't blame you. How many Christians do we have who only solidify the authenticity of the outside world's view of the Stained Glass Masquerade? To be honest, this is one of my greatest desires: to shatter the glass. We've grown so accustomed to our self-indulged infatuation with religious customs, that we've set up for ourselves some kind of false Christian faith. Why is it that people wear their Christian faith to "church" and take it off when they enter into the real world? It's because we've made "church" into some kind of facade. Some kind of holy place where we cover up who we truly are and try to act as God would have us for two hours a week. Why is it that so many pastor's have become so fake? Have we abandoned our search for God as we try to make people feel confortable? We worry so much about how church is "supposed to be done", that we're afraid to tell others about our problems and even, our triumphs in Christ's name. Who are we?
I guess I'm running free from the topic and should get back to telling you about me. Who am I? Actually, it's not particularly important where I fall on the scale. I am a beautiful mess. I am a degradate, lowly soul who is being raised up by God to dine with Him. And so are you... that is, if you proclaim Jesus Christ as your LORD and Saviour. Unfortunately, I'm still breaking glass in my own life, and never will finish 'til the day I die. I will grow closer to God until the day we meet. Soul exposed? Who is it that I strive to be like? Read the Bible and study Jesus for yourself, then you'll understand my role model.
Until that day when we meet seperate from all these circumstances, know this: I love God. Truly, I hold no other value than that alone. Any other things I have are only a bi-product of that one momentous truth. I have a passion for the lost, and just as much for those lost in their own faith. The believers that hold that Truth inside of them, but don't even realize the awesome glory of the mystery they've so thoughtlessly rationalized. This, at the true heart of all reality is the truth about who I am.
~Daniel
I'm So Sorry...
(This was a note written to those important in my life. Thought gave rise to the realization of my own reckless abandonment of those hopes instilled in me by Christ.)
I wanted to write to all of you, because I owe you an apology, but I also wanted to write to you because I hoped to create a sort of universal accountability in my life. For the past few years I have been living as a fraud. I have not acted as the person that I really am. Partially, it's because I want to fit in, but it's mainly just because that's how I've always acted.
Recently, I've been thinking almost constantly about the show that "the church" puts on. How we act, how we don't act, how we'll talk about someone's problems behind their back but not speak to them in love. I thought about those things, but in a classic way, I was merely shifting the blame which God was laying on my heart. You see, I have lived and helped to perpetuate that hypocrisy for so long.
In my mind I've been raging against my spiritual personality dysfunction. How in the world can I act the way I do, but love God as much as I do? Sold out doesn't begin to describe my passion for my LORD and saviour. I guess I thought that God wanted my time. He did, and I gave it to Him. Giving up tennis was one of the hardest things I've ever done. But then I realized that I wasn't giving God my life. What cross am I really bearing?
First, I want to apologize to all my friends at Antioch Bible Church. To all my leaders, all my pastors, everyone who have worked so hard to instill the love of Christ in me, because I've so ruthlessly abandoned my cross. To my friends, because I could have been there for you. Yeah, I prayed. Sometimes I said some encouraging things I suppose, but to act so separate from how I truly am... I can't really explain how much I mean that. To some of you, I honestly can't explain what you've meant in my life. Some of you that may not even know it have had a bigger impact than others... and I am so sorry for what I've done in light of that. Some of you barely know me, even if you've been around me for years.
I want to apologize to all my friends at school. To all of you I know who do not Christ, I've probably had some of the most ridiculous conversations with you, but know this: that's not who I am. No matter what you think of the Christian walk know that you cannot separate me from it. I love God with all my heart, soul and mind. If I've never told you about my passion for my saviour, then I am so sorry, I haven't been living as myself and as the man God called me to be.
To all those who go to The Stand at school. I have done you a huge disservice. I should be putting more effort into the group, and I am deeply sorry. But more importantly, as the leader of that group, I feel as though I should be a kind of role model. I wish that you could look at me and say "that is what God wants in my life", but that's not who I've been. Words can't express the passion I have for your well-being with Christ, and I hope to show that in the coming months.
God has been working on my heart and mind for quite some time now, coming at me from so many angles, just trying to intertwine Himself into the fabric of my life, but I've worked so hard to shut Him out. I cannot let 1 Corinthians 6:19 out of my mind. I am not my own. My cross to bear. My race to run. I have been crucified with Christ. These things penned by my saviour to take all that I am.
Actually, many of you have probably noticed what I write about. I only write about Christ and His church, His glory. Seems different than what I talk about doesn't it? Wow, just scrolled up... I wrote a lot didn't I? Hhmmm... there's no way I could express everything in writing. I desperately hope that I will be able to show you with my life.
There are so many people I would have to thank for my love for Christ, but there are just a precious few who I feel I need to thank especially. Scott Heatherington, you've had more of an effect than you could ever know. Paul, Philip, Taylor and Daniel for being my peers in this walk and for helping me through... I don't know where I would be without you guys.
LORD God help me to bear my cross for You. I love You, nothing less.
~Daniel
I wanted to write to all of you, because I owe you an apology, but I also wanted to write to you because I hoped to create a sort of universal accountability in my life. For the past few years I have been living as a fraud. I have not acted as the person that I really am. Partially, it's because I want to fit in, but it's mainly just because that's how I've always acted.
Recently, I've been thinking almost constantly about the show that "the church" puts on. How we act, how we don't act, how we'll talk about someone's problems behind their back but not speak to them in love. I thought about those things, but in a classic way, I was merely shifting the blame which God was laying on my heart. You see, I have lived and helped to perpetuate that hypocrisy for so long.
In my mind I've been raging against my spiritual personality dysfunction. How in the world can I act the way I do, but love God as much as I do? Sold out doesn't begin to describe my passion for my LORD and saviour. I guess I thought that God wanted my time. He did, and I gave it to Him. Giving up tennis was one of the hardest things I've ever done. But then I realized that I wasn't giving God my life. What cross am I really bearing?
First, I want to apologize to all my friends at Antioch Bible Church. To all my leaders, all my pastors, everyone who have worked so hard to instill the love of Christ in me, because I've so ruthlessly abandoned my cross. To my friends, because I could have been there for you. Yeah, I prayed. Sometimes I said some encouraging things I suppose, but to act so separate from how I truly am... I can't really explain how much I mean that. To some of you, I honestly can't explain what you've meant in my life. Some of you that may not even know it have had a bigger impact than others... and I am so sorry for what I've done in light of that. Some of you barely know me, even if you've been around me for years.
I want to apologize to all my friends at school. To all of you I know who do not Christ, I've probably had some of the most ridiculous conversations with you, but know this: that's not who I am. No matter what you think of the Christian walk know that you cannot separate me from it. I love God with all my heart, soul and mind. If I've never told you about my passion for my saviour, then I am so sorry, I haven't been living as myself and as the man God called me to be.
To all those who go to The Stand at school. I have done you a huge disservice. I should be putting more effort into the group, and I am deeply sorry. But more importantly, as the leader of that group, I feel as though I should be a kind of role model. I wish that you could look at me and say "that is what God wants in my life", but that's not who I've been. Words can't express the passion I have for your well-being with Christ, and I hope to show that in the coming months.
God has been working on my heart and mind for quite some time now, coming at me from so many angles, just trying to intertwine Himself into the fabric of my life, but I've worked so hard to shut Him out. I cannot let 1 Corinthians 6:19 out of my mind. I am not my own. My cross to bear. My race to run. I have been crucified with Christ. These things penned by my saviour to take all that I am.
Actually, many of you have probably noticed what I write about. I only write about Christ and His church, His glory. Seems different than what I talk about doesn't it? Wow, just scrolled up... I wrote a lot didn't I? Hhmmm... there's no way I could express everything in writing. I desperately hope that I will be able to show you with my life.
There are so many people I would have to thank for my love for Christ, but there are just a precious few who I feel I need to thank especially. Scott Heatherington, you've had more of an effect than you could ever know. Paul, Philip, Taylor and Daniel for being my peers in this walk and for helping me through... I don't know where I would be without you guys.
LORD God help me to bear my cross for You. I love You, nothing less.
~Daniel
Monday, 2 November 2009
Christian Versatility
Right now, is a time in my life in which I have more opportunity to serve God than I have ever had before. It's strange though, because it's when God has given me great responsibility that I wish I could just worship. Just escape to a remote area and pray and worship God. Unfortunately, the Christian life doesn't precipitate comfort. On the other hand, I frequently endure periods of extreme silence and pray for adventure. I am a Christian schizophrenic. It's interesting that in the very depths of my existence, I fervently desire the presence of God, but I bar His entrance from my life. No matter where I am, Christ thrusts Himself into community with me, but immediately I turn and attempt to traverse another pathway. Always looking for God. Always looking.
In contemporary Christianity we focus with urgency upon direct action. I often wonder if we lack the correct perspective. Around the country conferences are held, retreats are managed and mission trips transpire, oftenly with the sole purpose of inspiring action in the individual. Not that this is wrong in the slightest, but maybe there's something more to be done. How can a person hope to change the world for Christ, if he doesn't love Him? Although acting under the authority of God could lead an individual to come closer to Him, maybe the better road is the one less travelled. After all, the new Christians are often the most passionate. They have not yet lost themselves to mere action. When a person comes to Christ, goes out and proclaims the gospel with every waking breath, it is because he understands. He understands the significance of his freedom in bondage. How often evangelism is stressed but passion is put aside! To accomplish God's work is to love the heart of God.
Walking with God is simple, but sitting with Him requires hard work. Becoming a versatile Christian is difficult, because it necessitates patience. When there is time: time to study His Word, time to worship. You need an extraordinary well of patience to wait for the adventure of the faith. But when God lays work: always present, tension-building, never ceasing work at the doorstep, founding oneself in hope can seem impossible. So, in effort to never sit with God. In some vain attempt to always vacillate between the extremes we forget to sit with God in the moment. In God's omnipresence we are always looking for Him. Always looking. The brave, courageous few sit and let Him lead. As for them, they remain in Him. Always finding.
In contemporary Christianity we focus with urgency upon direct action. I often wonder if we lack the correct perspective. Around the country conferences are held, retreats are managed and mission trips transpire, oftenly with the sole purpose of inspiring action in the individual. Not that this is wrong in the slightest, but maybe there's something more to be done. How can a person hope to change the world for Christ, if he doesn't love Him? Although acting under the authority of God could lead an individual to come closer to Him, maybe the better road is the one less travelled. After all, the new Christians are often the most passionate. They have not yet lost themselves to mere action. When a person comes to Christ, goes out and proclaims the gospel with every waking breath, it is because he understands. He understands the significance of his freedom in bondage. How often evangelism is stressed but passion is put aside! To accomplish God's work is to love the heart of God.
Walking with God is simple, but sitting with Him requires hard work. Becoming a versatile Christian is difficult, because it necessitates patience. When there is time: time to study His Word, time to worship. You need an extraordinary well of patience to wait for the adventure of the faith. But when God lays work: always present, tension-building, never ceasing work at the doorstep, founding oneself in hope can seem impossible. So, in effort to never sit with God. In some vain attempt to always vacillate between the extremes we forget to sit with God in the moment. In God's omnipresence we are always looking for Him. Always looking. The brave, courageous few sit and let Him lead. As for them, they remain in Him. Always finding.
It's in the times of solitude I want to praise God with my noise and when I've made my clamour, I desire to fall on my knees at the top of some forgotten mountain. But still God meets me where I'm at, even though I've shunned all versatility.
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