All right. Close your eyes. Aw, durn it, you can't read this with your eyes closed, so open 'em back up. How 'bout you read first, then follow the instructions. I'll keep them short and uncomplicated.
Imagine sitting in a gospel tent in N'Awlins or in a small whitewashed church out in the country. The weather is warm and the ladies--all of whom are wearing very large, very bright, very feathered hats--are fanning themselves to try and cool the humid air. This place is neither fancy nor snobbish, despite the headgear; people stand and sit at will, often with arms raised and with a loud, "Amen!" at the end of an especially favorable point made by the preacher. It feels, more like anything, like home. As the sermon comes to a close, the organist readies herself to play. The chords rise up along with the congregation, and suddenly you are on your feet, swaying to the beat. With great gusto and sincerity, the words to "Amazing Grace" fill the church.
Amazing grace, how sweet the sound that saved a wretch like me...
Forget a staid presentation of this traditional tune; this is a spiritual and here it is sung like one. You join in with complete and utter freedom of the soul, knowing every word and with hands raised to join the crowd! Joined in brother- and sisterhood with those around you, all feels right in the world and you know, you just know, that God is smiling.
Amen.
6 comments:
Pre-Katrina, we'd always try to make one of the weekends at New Orleans Jazz Fest every year. While everyone else was sucking beer and peering over a sea of badly sunburned (or hatted – what IS it with grown ups at music fests, they suddenly turn three years old when it comes to head gear?) heads to catch Dave Matthews or Counting Crows (not that there's anything wrong with that), I was hunkered down in the cool of the gospel tent getting me some Jesus with some of the best voices in the world. I mean, you spend any time AT ALL in New Orleans, you best balance yourself out with some Jesus. You just remind me how badly I miss that. I really, really do.
What an excellent memory. Alcoholic haze divided by Jesus = Redemption for sure. I hope with all my heart that N.O. can eventually be that place again for you. If not, there's a lovely little church in OK I'll take you to sometime. BYOB for Jesus.
I'm fond of the version that goes: "Amazing grace how sweet the sound that saved and set me free." But I'll come to your church any time.
:)
And yes, God is smiling. Indeed, She is.
Dark: OK is also the place where you'll see billboards put up by people (whom I call The Tight Folk) purporting to be aware of both God's and Jesus' opinions. And no trinity allowed: Holy Ghost bad.
Bright: in your heart you KNOW that Jesus is pulling for you to just loosen up and FLY. Like a great big home run explosion. Ah, now that's a smile all right....
Nicely said, aj! Yeah, OK is, well, um...yeah. It's a different place. But I'm with ya wholeheartedly on the fly-for-Jesus thing--he wants it, we want it, and the world would be a better place if we could all just do it. Thanks for your words.
Oh, and orangeblossoms, my church really does rock and you just come on over any old time, girl!
It is my understanding that Jesus shows up when you least expect it and asks of you when you're not sure about whether you can give it up. Recently I found myself in a crowded N.Y. subway car listening to a guy rapping for financial assistance. Most of the people ignored him and I could hear his agonizing pleading fading away as I justified my not contributing to his need with my quick escape at the next stop. I can't get to him. Too many people in the way. Why should I be the only one. He's irrelevant in the scheme of things. Oh my God was that Jesus knocking on my door that I just slammed in His face. Why would He even consider answering my huge list of prayer requests when I just brushed off a guy who would have been thrilled to get anything. Forgive me for not noticing and please, Sweet Jesus, knock on my door again and again. Amazing grace, how sweet...
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