This is one of a set of blog entries inspired by the 2014 tour of the Living Proof Youth Choir (LPYC) of Christ UMC in Plano, Texas. It isn’t meant to be a summary of the tour, but a set of reflections prompted by events on the trip.
I thought we were in the wrong place.
I asked Connor, my navigator, where we were supposed to be. He said New Kingdom Church. That’s what the sign said. I was driving the van, we got separated from the bus, and Connor used his phone to get us here. We had obviously beaten the bus. Two men were grilling and I knew the church was going to feed us, so this looked like the place. It’s not like all our other engagements had been in cathedrals, but this place was small. It was surrounded by a steel fence with an automatic gate, probably to prevent vandalism. This was not our usual venue, not our usual neighborhood. But it looked like the right place, so I got out to say hello.
I met Derrell, the youth pastor, and he looked confused, too. I said we were from the choir that was singing tonight, which got rid of some confusion. When I told him we had a bus with the rest of the choir, it got rid of the rest. The bus pulled up and as choir got off the bus in their blacks and whites, the ties and dresses, I saw Derrell brighten up. Trey and Jim, the director and accompanist, began talking to the men and I went inside to change into my dress up clothes.
We were at the right place. New Kingdom Church is a nondenominational, African-American church on the in Chicago’s Austin neighborhood. It isn’t far from where we sang that morning, the By The Hand Club for Kids. That organization “helps children who live in high-risk inner-city neighborhoods have abundant lives.” Those children, elementary school aged, loved having the “big kids” come play with them. I saw some children of that age at New Kingdom and wondered if some of them either went to By The Hand or knew someone who did.
Elvis Costello said, “Writing about music is like dancing about architecture.” It’s hard to convey what happened that night. Everyone knows African-American worship carries an enthusiasm that Anglo worship doesn’t. The effect on the choir was dramatic. The first songs went well, but as time went by the choir and the congregation connected. Shouts from the congregation became part of the song. Lines from the songs demanded and received responses from the congregation.
The choir sang a while, then New Kingdom showed us their best. We saw their dance team, heard a young lady sing who was headed to college on a music scholarship, and heard from another on how much God had done in her life through New Kingdom’s ministry. Then the choir sang more.
There are a lot of songs I could write about, but I want to lift up two.
The song Order My Steps is a prayer, but on that night it was preaching. The congregation added its voice to each request: to order our steps and our tongues in Your Word, to guide our feet and wash our hearts in Your Word, to be shown how to walk and talk in Your Word. Each line built on the next, with the choir stepping up to match the intensity of the congregation. All the dynamics, all the phrasing, all those things choir directors have to pull out of their choirs, came naturally out of the choir as the congregation and the director shaped the music.
Trey moved the high energy Praise His Holy Name to the end of the program. I’ve seen videos of other choirs doing this song, with their directors desperately trying to get them to loosen up. That wasn’t our problem. The choir was ready; the congregation was willing. “Praise His Holy Name” was a command to the congregation – and they followed. I wrote about this already, but it became clear the song was going to end too soon, so Trey drew it out. It was guys only, girls only, with and without piano, always with shouts every time the music changed. Trey brought it to an end and the room exploded.
I can’t call this a performance or a concert. Everybody did something to make it happen; everything came together. We were in the right place.
New Kingdom’s kids took the choir downstairs to eat. It was a replay of that morning, with the younger kids thrilled to have the attention of the older kids. We later learned a man came in from the street, wondering what all the singing was about, and stayed to hear the rest of the music. A lady from New Kingdom told us she was going to set up the food and leave, but decided to stay when she heard the singing. I heard my favorite line of the week: “When I closed my eyes, I forgot you were a white choir.”
This is another root of theology. How is it that people that are so different are so alike? What brings us together? How did this music become our common ground? To find out, you have to leave the comfort zone of where you are, live in someone else’s world, and let them share with you. When you close your eyes, you forget the differences. You under-stand you’re in the right place.
Both my parents came from large families. I remember family gatherings and summer nights in Arkansas, running around in someone’s front yard with my sister and cousins. The adults would tell us it was time to go and eventually herded us into our cars, but I don’t think they wanted to leave any more than we did. It was getting time to leave New Kingdom, so I left the building and stepped into a front yard in Arkansas. Kids from the Austin neighborhood were running around with upper middle class suburban kids, in between groups of chaperones and church members. After talking for a while, and a while more, we herded ourselves onto the bus and the van. I don’t think anyone wanted to leave, but tomorrow was going to be an early day. We had to break up the family gathering.
When this evening started, we weren’t sure what to expect from each other, but when you close your eyes, there’s some things you forget – and some things you learn. The opinion on the van was unanimous: Best Choir Experience Ever.
That happens when you’re in the right place.
The Feral Deacon 