Road Hazard

To this day, I suspect that Berean’s search committee had resumes from two Charles Kings (it is, after all, a pretty common name) and that they pulled the wrong one when making the call. Mistake or no, there I was, and I hope Berean will agree God gave us eleven good years together!

During a time of restlessness, nine years into my tenure in Burnsville, I scanned music ministry job postings. We ended up going to interview with a church in North Carolina. It was a botched weekend, on the church’s side: they had not been clear about the expectations, and it seemed they were eager to move much faster than we were, or than we thought they were. There were other issues that concerned Karen. We returned to Minnesota, disagreeing pretty strongly about whether to take the next step, which seemed to be tantamount to agreeing to go.

We were approaching our 20^th wedding anniversary, and a decade in ministry, and had the most difficult, most terrifying season of life together. Finally, even my thick head could see that even if I didn’t see the danger Karen saw, she has a better danger radar than I do; she is smarter than I am; and that this move might just undo us. Call it feminine intuition. I call it the Holy Spirit. She was right. And when I gave that church my final “no,” we stepped back and assessed the situation.

Karen, being Karen, thought she was wrong to be so obstinate. I believed she had to be in order for me to pay attention to her keener spiritual sense. She promised never again to say “no” to a job I was interested in. I asked her to say “no” as often as she needed to to keep me from being stupid.

Two years later (during which time I was not looking for other positions!) I was candidating for the worship and music position at College Church in Wheaton. True to her word, Karen never said “no.” I had finally learned enough (if no more) to ask, include, and press her input at every step. When we were asked to come to College Church, it was for both of us an exciting step to take. Not easy, mind you . . . leaving people you love, and a home in which you are happy, is never easy. But it was exciting.

Thirty years ago this month, I became a pastoral musician. I’m still trying to sort out all that means, and I’m still eager to fulfill that vocation, in whatever form it takes.

Back stories

I had a conversion experience as a high school student. The respect I had for the church and the Bible, and the belief that prayer was an actual encounter with God, became living realities when I understood that the one thing that kept me from actually knowing God was my sin . . . and that God himself had removed that barrier, through the gracious work of Jesus Christ on the cross. This happened in a context other than my home church, and over time I began to attend this other church, where among other things I was singing in the youth choir. One Sunday morning, this rather informal church sang “Holy, Holy, Holy”—a hymn I have loved since my childhood. And as we sang it hit me: This is what I have missed in the services here.

It is that combination of a vibrant, personal expression of faith and devotion, along with the humble reach toward the transcendent, that I have tried to foster in my work as a pastoral musician. That is what Karen and I experienced in the Village Church. It is where I think we got to at Berean Baptist. It is the balance College Church has always worked so carefully to maintain.

I never considered a vocation in church music. As a Christian believer, I assumed I would be involved in a church. As a musician, I assumed I would help make music in a church. I assumed my day job would develop into my career. When I got part-time work on a church music staff, it was just a (delightful) second job.

It looked like my six-year music education had equipped me for a healthy avocation in music. As I approached my 30^th birthday, I left the church staff position to complete a MEd degree to gain credentials toward a career in higher ed administration. Then I got  a call from my friend John.

John Wilson was chief editor at Hope Publishing Company. He asked if he could submit my name for a church position in a suburb of Minneapolis. Why not? These things seemed not to work out, and I was content with my re-oriented “plans.” Almost on a lark, I entered the process that landed me in Burnsville. I celebrated my 30^th birthday in the fall that year. It was a Sunday. I led worship and directed the Berean choir. It was a gift to wake up to my new calling.

Thirty years ago this week, I became a pastoral musician. I’m still trying to sort out all that means, and I’m still eager to fulfill that vocation, in whatever form it takes.

It began in 1985

Thirty years ago this week, I became a full-time pastoral musician. That’s what I call it now. Back then we called it “minister of music” or in my case, “pastor for worship and music.” At Berean Baptist Church in Burnsville, Minnesota—those daring people who risked hiring me as their first full-time music pastor—Minister of Music would have been too “mainline.” For my own part, I was attracted to the title’s order: worship, then music.

I thought I knew a thing or two about worship. I had made a rather diligent study of the new literature on the subject, through the previous five years. In our home church, the Village Church of Western Springs (Western Springs Baptist), Karen and I had deeply appreciated the attention given to the details of the weekly gathering, and the excellent approach to music—congregational, choral, and instrumental. We had the privilege of being part of that; and I had the privilege of helping out on the music staff. Along with my friend and mentor, John F. Wilson, I had the opportunity to teach the occasional class on worship matters, and to help plan services. I thought I knew a thing or two about worship.

It wasn’t long before I realized how little I did know. About worship. About managing choir rehearsals week-to-week over 40+ weeks per year. About running a program, working with volunteers, about being a pastor to musicians and others. Those Bereans really took a risk. I hope they felt that it was worth it. For me, at least, it was grace.

Over time I came to see how being a church musician is a pastoral calling. I found my way to biblical and theological principles that guided my work. I failed, despaired, tried to give up. I thrived, grew, and came to think this was the best gig ever. (Some days included all of the previous two sentences!) Others identified and named gifts that I did not realize I had or was exercising, while “just doing my job.”

For 27 years this was my life. First at Berean, then at College Church in Wheaton. For nearly three years now I have been exploring and pursuing how that vocation is meant to be lived out faithfully in the coming years. Because, even while stepping away from this work in a full-time capacity, I still understand my core vocation to be service to the church in her worship life.

Thirty years ago this week, I became a pastoral musician. I’m still trying to sort out all that means, and I’m still eager to fulfill that vocation, in whatever form it takes.

Worship Reshaping Desire

It was published only six years ago, but still I am late to the discussion of James K. A. Smith, Desiringthe Kingdom: Worship, Worldview, and Cultural Formation. I started the book with eagerness a year or so ago, but only just now read it as part of the syllabus for a seminar I am in this summer. Nothing like a firm deadline, externally imposed, to focus my reading!

I wish I had read it when it came out. It may not have made a difference in the direction my vocation has taken, but it would have helped me be more articulate as I tried to express my values for gathered worship in the life of the church. Still, I really do believe that the Spirit directs even the timing of the things I read, and I am almost certainly more ready now to track Smith’s thesis.

Desiring the Kingdom was written primarily for students and faculty in Christian higher education. Given that, it is surprising that the shortest chapter, and the least “instructive” (in a way) is the last one, “A Christian University is for Lovers: The Education of Desire.” The discussion yesterday in a seminar of new faculty at Trinity International University agreed that—my words here—there wasn’t the expected payoff for the long set-up to that chapter.

On the other hand, I found this to be a compelling cultural analysis with many implications for (and explications of) gathered worship. I am adding this to all my required reading lists regarding worship.

Because I will fall short of a good précis of Smith’s work, I am only going to try to summarize the implications for how I think about worship. I may misunderstand, I may misrepresent Smith’s argument. If you take issue, take issue with me . . . or better yet, read Desiring the Kingdom and think it through.

1. Smith argues that before we are thinkers or believers, we are lovers. Before we think or believe, we desire. He does not deny the value, the importance, of belief and thought; he adds desire to them—as prior among the three.

a. Thus, when we educate (in any form) with the aim of shaping Christians, we will fall short if we address understanding and faith without addressing the fundamental desire(s) that we build our lives around.

b. And, if I want to know what I really believe, I should examine my desires.

2. Desire, by the way, is short-hand for the vision of the best life, for ideal human flourishing. For the Christian, that is meant to be the kingdom of God.

3. Our desire, our ideal of human flourishing, is being shaped by what Smith calls “cultural liturgies”—activities and ways of engaging the world, which shape our desires. He offers three examples; I will mention only one: the mall (shorthand for consumer culture). Read yourself for the specifics. Here I simply record some of my observations:

a. Smith describes how desire is shaped by consumer liturgies.

b. It seems to me that what the “church growth movement” [is that still a thing?] does/did (as well as many a church who would not self-describe as “seeker sensitive”) is to say, “hey, that works, let’s do that!”

c. What Smith says is, “Let’s see what desire is being promoted by the mall. Why is the church not addressing a desire for God’s kingdom, and training God’s people for that?” In other words, shouldn’t the church (and, to Smith’s focus, Christian higher education) be re-shaping young peoples’ idea of human flourishing?

4. This is what worship can do, what it is meant to do, and what we must be careful to allow it to do. “Liturgy” does not necessarily mean the forms of worship associated with historical denominations. All Christian traditions have a form of worship, and Smith neatly describes the key components that are generally, in varying ways, part of such disparate expressions as (for example) Anglican, Reformed, and Charismatic churches.

a.  When we tinker with the structure and core content of worship, or change it up at will, we lose the shaping power of liturgy.

b. If we fail to offer an alternative vision of “the Kingdom,” we will (we do) lose people, even those who can articulate orthodox belief.

c. Is this why young people are leaving the evangelical church? (a) Leaving the church altogether because they see no difference in the end offered? (b) Leaving for historical liturgies because there their desires for the Kingdom are consistently fostered?

Well, I only finished reading this a week ago. I am still in process with it. I need to go over my marks and notes, and engage more conversation with it. I am eager to have it read in and for classes, so I can learn from students’ interactions with it.

Uriah's Song

A friend of mine died recently. Suddenly. Accidentally. Harry and Wini were on their annual extended vacation away from Illinois, and just a few days before his death, Harry had sent an email to a number of his friends—smiling on the Atlantic beach, trying not to rub it in.

Harry Hoffner was a bass in the choir at College Church in Wheaton. He was there before I came, and he was there after I left. He loved College Church, sang with joy, and along with Wini faithfully taught the Choir Bible Study Sunday School class. We became friends, and found a little time (never enough) to have coffee and talk about many things. These are the bare facts of our relationship.

Harry was a renowned Hittitologist. He retired in 2000 from teaching at the University of Chicago, where he oversaw the Chicago Hittite Dictionary which will forever be associated with his name (along with others). Sounds dull, do you think? Harry was anything but dull. He was an avid Chicago Cubs fan, but a remarkably joyous man in spite of it. He loved sports, and was passionate about his teams. He loved music, and had sung not only in church choirs, but in the Chicago Symphony Chorus under its founding director, Margaret Hillis. Harry Hoffner, on Grammy award winning recordings.

Harry was a skilled Bible teacher. You might think that a Hittitologist would make a dry Bible teacher. You’d be wrong. He taught Bible Study Fellowship for many years, and in our Choir Bible Study we found him not only detailed (well, of course we was that) but deeply personal. I envied his ability to draw personal application out of arguably obscure Old Testament passages. Harry loved Jesus . . . so he loved God’s Word, and this came through in his teaching.

In 2005 the College Church Choir worked with Chinese musician Timothy Su, to learn and sing a song or two in Mandarin. During that time Harry sent me an email with a photo of himself sitting in a tent in Turkey. In 2003 Harry was flown to Turkey as an advisor on a film about the Hittites; in the photo he is reading aloud some script he had written for the actors, for verisimilitude in the project, apparently. In reply to his email, I wrote:

 Now that we have wrapped our mouths around Mandarin, maybe it's time to learn a Hittite praise song? I don't mean a Canaanite idol song, but a culturally apt worship song sung by Hittites who became Old Testament believers. Like, what would Uriah have sung?

That was February 10, 2005, a Thursday. That night Harry showed up for choir with “Uriah’s Song.” Later he reformatted his work into the more professional look you see below.

Here is the lovely poetry Harry dashed off that day. I assume it is as lovely in Hittite as in English. You can see his true poetic nature, as he provides a literal translation of the Hittite that is every bit as engaging as the official song:

Uriah’s Song

Far from my home I

Came to His temple.

There in that house was the True God.

Hittite lips sang His praises.

     [literally: From a distant land I came to His temple. His house became my joy. I sing (to Him) in Hittite.]

Not to Him foreign,

Enemy neither –

Enemies He makes His servants.

He swept away my resistance.

     [literally: Not to Him foreign, nor enemy – He makes enemies into servants. He conquers my heart completely.]

Scorned by a wife and

Killed by a king – yet

God is my Spouse and my Sov’reign.

E’er will He love and rule me.

     [literally: Betrayed by a woman, murdered by a king – God is my marriage partner (and) ruler. He will not forsake me.]

© Harry Hoffner, 2/10/2005

Thank you, Harry, for all the ways you enriched my life, and my walk with Jesus. I hope you’ve had a chance to meet Uriah already, and to sing with him! 

Music in the Castle of Heaven

I am not the fastest reader you will meet. Then again, John Eliot Gardiner's biography of Bach is not meant to be rushed. Still, last year's Christmas gift from my Karen has been my companion for the better part of the past year (and I do mean the better part). It is with some regret that I came to the end yesterday.

J. S. Bach: Music in the Castle of Heaven was much anticipated last year. It was published and released whilst I was working away at my theology thesis on Bach. I worried that it would come out soon enough that I would have to take it into account at the 11th hour. Then I worried that if I started reading it during the editing process, I would lose heart. So I (wisely? cravenly?) chose not to begin reading it until I had submitted my own to my readers.

Wisely, I think. (And yes, cravenly, too, alas.) There are a number of points, ideas, and illustrations that would have served me nicely in the thesis. Indeed, the chapter, "Collision and Collusion," addresses the main point of my thesis - the relationship of Bach's musical choices to articulate meaning. Sure, I'll use that whenever I talk about my thesis!

But the most personal response I take away from this excellent, magisterial work, is the cheek - the sheer gall - that I would attempt a thesis on the master and his work. Albert Schweitzer, in his landmark two-volume work on Bach, famously said (vol.2, p. 52) "No one can conduct one cantata properly unless he knows them all." Well, and now in our day there is John Eliot Gardiner, among the tiny elite who can be said to truly qualify. He is our day's Schweitzer; our generation's appropriate biographer.

Like Schweitzer, he may be proved wrong on certain points. Astonishingly, there are still documents and artifacts that surface related to Bach. But also like Schweitzer, this work will be read a century hence.

More to say later. For now, it is good enough for me that I finished this book during Christmas, during the season of contemplation of the Incarnation. Gardiner (no traditional Christian believer, by his own admission) concludes the book thus: But it is Bach, making music in the Castle of Heaven, who gives us the voice of God - in human form. He is the one who blazes a trail, showing us how to overcome our imperfections through the perfections of his music: to make divine things human and human things divine. (558)

A feast for the soul

I won't even try to re-do the post from January 1, 2014. Every year it's the same . . . and this year it's different.

January 1, the 8th day of Christmas: the day (if not the date) when the baby, Jesus, was formally named. Though we don't know what day/date Jesus was born, the Bible is very specific about when he was named. And no normal "name day," either! Mary and Joseph named him under divine orders, and the witnesses were saints and prophets in the place God established for "God's name" to dwell. Here is a truly Evangelical Feast.

So, Happy New Year, and enjoy the football games, and make your resolutions. Me? I'm working on a low-key New Years Day which will probably involve a little bit of all that. But I can't shake the Festival aspect that the Church teaches me to stop and listen to. In these days of reflecting on Incarnation, I am thankful that the God who took on flesh was given a name both human and divine. A name above all names. A name before which all heaven and earth will bow. "Jesus" - the Lord God saves.

Oh, what a Wonderful Child!

For a good playlist, look back at last year's post. But for the song going through my head today, check this out. It is from a New York production of Langston Hughes' "Black Nativity." A little hotter than our Minnesota memories, but the closest I can find online.

And then there's this classic, obviously the model for the version we love from Penumbra Theater's production.