Drummm Drm Drum Drummmm Drum Drum Drummm...
Jhon has been getting back in touch with his Garifuna-culture roots with a special drum class, which I find myself sitting in on--listening to my beach-born brother pound out the exact same rhythm... Over... and over... and over...
Drummm Drm Drum Drummmm Drum Drum Drummm...
Well, not the exact same rhythm since Jhon is currently getting tired of this monotony. Every once in a while he'll pause, readjust, and breathe out a sigh of frustration as his teacher just sits there on his cell phone voicing an occasional minuscule critique.
Drummmm Drm Drum Drummmmmm Drum Drum Drummm...
The longer I listen the more I notice Jhon's slight speed changes. A little faster... A little slower... A little harder... A little softer...
Drummm Drm Drum Drummmm Drum Drum Drummm...
"You're getting tired," his teacher notes without looking up from his phone. "Take a break."
Jhon gets up to go to the bathroom--relieved. While he is away, the teacher finally acknowledges my presence. "Patience," he tells me. "That's the hardest thing."
Jhon comes back and takes up the what-should-be-steady rhythm once more.
Drummm Drum Druum Drummm Drum Druuum Drummm...
As the end of the hour approaches, a few of the other Micah boys rush in post soccer-training hoping to recollect their companion. Jhon's teacher pays them no notice; Jhon tries not to, either (without success). After the boys' initial awe by the newness of Jhon's ethnic drum-beat, they quickly begin to scoff as they realize Jhon's slow steady rhythm is not about to get any cooler. They try to motion for him to do something fast, something "awesome"--but Jhon shakes his head and glances in the direction of his teacher. He's got enough fear in him to at least attempt continuing to pound out what the teacher wants, even though his peers are already storing up ammunition to mock him for these drum lessons later. And Jhon knows it, too--he's losing his rhythm. He's starting to sweat.
Cue: Mamma bear. I decide to load up my ammo, too: words.
When the teacher finally lets Jhon free, I jump on the moment, positioning myself next to Jhon and speaking to the boys before the teacher's intimidating presence leaves the room. The fear of him has given me a free platform to talk uninterrupted.
"What Jhon is doing here is incredibly difficult--to have the perseverance and patience to hold a steady rhythm. It is not always exciting, but it is such an important job," I say. "The rhythm prepares the way for the melody. The base precedes the glory."
As I speak, I notice the teacher is watching me, and for the first time, I see him smile. As we leave, Jhon is affirmed and reanimated. The boys' insults have vanished.
"Patience, it's the hardest thing..."
As we all walk out together, I can't help but think about how we live in a world that is always seeking the next new thrill. But the excitement of every exciting thing wears off. A new outfit becomes an old outfit. A new pop sensation becomes a dated one-hit wonder. A drug high becomes a crash and a craving. An image on a computer screen leads to another and another and another... Until thrill after thrill becomes the ordinary, and leaves no room for any thrill at all. We've forgotten the art of steady rhythm. The strength in the ordinary that prepares the way for glory.
As Oswald Chambers wrote, "The great hindrance in spiritual life is that we will look for big things to do. 'Jesus took a towel... and began to wash the disciples' feet.' There are times when there is no illumination and no thrill, but just the daily round, the common task... Do not expect God always to give you His thrilling minutes, but learn to live in the domain of drudgery by the power of God."
Drummm Drm Drum Drummmm Drum Drum Drummm...
Drummm Drm Drum Drummmm Drum Drum Drummm...
Drummm Drm Drum Drummmm Drum Drum Drummm...
"Patience, it's the hardest thing..."
Taught and strengthened by our Teacher, may we continue to patiently wait on Him--trusting that our discipline in the ordinary is preparing the way for greater glory. May we endure the insults of those watching, who always insist on 'seeing something cool' when God has instead called us to humble service. May we go about our daily tasks with hope that He is coming. By the Lord's power and grace, may we grow in the steady art of faith, hope, and love.
Drummm Drm Drum Drummmm Drum Drum Drummm...
Jesus was...
Drummm Drm Drum Drummmm Drum Drum Drummm...
Jesus is...
Drummm Drm Drum Drummmm Drum Drum Drummm...
Jesus is to come.
Jesus. Our faithful rock, our steady rhythm, our beautiful melody. Jesus.
Jhon has been getting back in touch with his Garifuna-culture roots with a special drum class, which I find myself sitting in on--listening to my beach-born brother pound out the exact same rhythm... Over... and over... and over...
Drummm Drm Drum Drummmm Drum Drum Drummm...
Well, not the exact same rhythm since Jhon is currently getting tired of this monotony. Every once in a while he'll pause, readjust, and breathe out a sigh of frustration as his teacher just sits there on his cell phone voicing an occasional minuscule critique.
Drummmm Drm Drum Drummmmmm Drum Drum Drummm...
The longer I listen the more I notice Jhon's slight speed changes. A little faster... A little slower... A little harder... A little softer...
Drummm Drm Drum Drummmm Drum Drum Drummm...
"You're getting tired," his teacher notes without looking up from his phone. "Take a break."
Jhon gets up to go to the bathroom--relieved. While he is away, the teacher finally acknowledges my presence. "Patience," he tells me. "That's the hardest thing."
Jhon comes back and takes up the what-should-be-steady rhythm once more.
Drummm Drum Druum Drummm Drum Druuum Drummm...
As the end of the hour approaches, a few of the other Micah boys rush in post soccer-training hoping to recollect their companion. Jhon's teacher pays them no notice; Jhon tries not to, either (without success). After the boys' initial awe by the newness of Jhon's ethnic drum-beat, they quickly begin to scoff as they realize Jhon's slow steady rhythm is not about to get any cooler. They try to motion for him to do something fast, something "awesome"--but Jhon shakes his head and glances in the direction of his teacher. He's got enough fear in him to at least attempt continuing to pound out what the teacher wants, even though his peers are already storing up ammunition to mock him for these drum lessons later. And Jhon knows it, too--he's losing his rhythm. He's starting to sweat.
Cue: Mamma bear. I decide to load up my ammo, too: words.
When the teacher finally lets Jhon free, I jump on the moment, positioning myself next to Jhon and speaking to the boys before the teacher's intimidating presence leaves the room. The fear of him has given me a free platform to talk uninterrupted.
"What Jhon is doing here is incredibly difficult--to have the perseverance and patience to hold a steady rhythm. It is not always exciting, but it is such an important job," I say. "The rhythm prepares the way for the melody. The base precedes the glory."
As I speak, I notice the teacher is watching me, and for the first time, I see him smile. As we leave, Jhon is affirmed and reanimated. The boys' insults have vanished.
"Patience, it's the hardest thing..."
As we all walk out together, I can't help but think about how we live in a world that is always seeking the next new thrill. But the excitement of every exciting thing wears off. A new outfit becomes an old outfit. A new pop sensation becomes a dated one-hit wonder. A drug high becomes a crash and a craving. An image on a computer screen leads to another and another and another... Until thrill after thrill becomes the ordinary, and leaves no room for any thrill at all. We've forgotten the art of steady rhythm. The strength in the ordinary that prepares the way for glory.
As Oswald Chambers wrote, "The great hindrance in spiritual life is that we will look for big things to do. 'Jesus took a towel... and began to wash the disciples' feet.' There are times when there is no illumination and no thrill, but just the daily round, the common task... Do not expect God always to give you His thrilling minutes, but learn to live in the domain of drudgery by the power of God."
Drummm Drm Drum Drummmm Drum Drum Drummm...
Drummm Drm Drum Drummmm Drum Drum Drummm...
Drummm Drm Drum Drummmm Drum Drum Drummm...
"Patience, it's the hardest thing..."
Taught and strengthened by our Teacher, may we continue to patiently wait on Him--trusting that our discipline in the ordinary is preparing the way for greater glory. May we endure the insults of those watching, who always insist on 'seeing something cool' when God has instead called us to humble service. May we go about our daily tasks with hope that He is coming. By the Lord's power and grace, may we grow in the steady art of faith, hope, and love.
Drummm Drm Drum Drummmm Drum Drum Drummm...
Jesus was...
Drummm Drm Drum Drummmm Drum Drum Drummm...
Jesus is...
Drummm Drm Drum Drummmm Drum Drum Drummm...
Jesus is to come.
Jesus. Our faithful rock, our steady rhythm, our beautiful melody. Jesus.
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