Everything's so terribly thrilling and beautiful

Two lake steamers were moving slowly on the water in opposite directions, two small bands of gold lights approaching each other and crossing. In a straight line down the mountain ran the funicular, and, winding around, ran the small train. They were the only lights on the mountainside, and they seemed like something magic. Leaning there with her nose against the windowpane, Katherine suddenly felt a sense of peace and strength. "I will lift up mine eyes unto the hills, from whence cometh my help," she whispered, then withdrew from the window, turned on the unprotected ceiling light that glared down at her, sat down at the dreadful piano with the squeaking pedals and practiced until time for dinner. She went into dinner with a consciousness of her strength, of great indifference to the things that had been making her so miserable--a consciousness that was too conscious to be real. But she sat through dinner thinking of her music lesson, thinking of Justin Michel Vigneras, thinking of Julie.
Throughout the dining room the liquid clinking of spoons against glass dishes made a clear sound like myriads of little bells. She listened to them ringing softly, trying to shut out all distinct words, so that the sound of conversation was like a chorus of voices echoing a pagan prayer in a faraway temple. Sucking her cherries slowly, she arranged the eight pips in a pattern around her saucer. It would be beautiful in a temple with bells and everybody praying. She remembered going to church with her Nanny, remembered the sound of the huge organ, the light filtering in golden dusty shafts across the nave, the jangling of bells, intonings of prayers, clear, high voices of choir boys that seemed to shine like the light from the candles burning everywhere, the intense clicking of rosaries--and excitement slid up her spine like a crack up a pane of glass.
Exultantly she thought--I'm alone, I'm alone, and I don't care because everything's so terribly thrilling and beautiful.--

I have a friend who is currently dedicating his blog to a discussion on whether or not instruments belong in the worship service. I don't think he reads my blog, so this isn't any kind of direct response to it, really. Just my own ignorant thoughts on the matter. I preface them with the fact that I have not seriously investigated scripture on the matter and these are just my (dangerous, nay, even bad word) opinion.

My opinion is not very strong or loud, but it appears that many people have both very strong and very loud opinions on the matter. My friend has gathered a large collection of quotes from the likes of John Wesley, Martin Luther, and others against the use of instruments in worship, who believe(d) that because instruments were not used in instances of worship recorded in the New Testament, they do not belong there.

Personally, I think... well, I don't want this to come across as offensive to centuries of theologians and entire denominations who think this is a subject of great import because I really am just a stupid sheep, but I think it's silly. This is probably one situation in which the subdivision of the Church into denominations is a positive thing-- let each sect of the Body worship the way it sees fit just as long as they are worshiping. As long as we are united in our adoration of the Holy Trinity, we are still family. There are countless other things that contemporary Christians do in this country that are not accounted for in the New Testament, and I feel like concentrating too much energy on a topic like this is a distraction from what we need to be doing more of: loving service to others.

This world is filled with people who desperately need our attention on the fact that they have no food, no clean water, no shelter. If we want people to consider joining us in our worship of Christ, no matter the methods, we must first quiet their fearful hearts and end their thirst, their hunger pangs.

This country is filled with people who can't hear over their own cacophonous thoughts (stemming from similarly fearful hearts) to give others the attention they need.

If instruments in worship help to elicit responses like that of Katherine's in the excerpt above--if they help to quiet the din enough for one to be able to listen to others and to see how terribly thrilling and beautiful it ALL really is--I say bring them on.

John Wesley also said "If my heart is as your heart, take my hand." I think he'd still take my hand, even if we may have disagreed on this matter. Or maybe he wouldn't have. We'll never know.

I could go on and on with this post (expanding the content as well as editing it with a fine-tooth comb for objectivity), but it's already too long, you probably don't care that much about it anyway, and may not have even read all of it. If you did, thanks for sticking it out. Know I count you as a dear friend because you most likely stick out all of my rantings and ramblings, whether they're on my blog or in person.


And the benedryl is kicking in...

Time to go nigh-nigh.

{End 9:48 pm}