Chapel

The lights. Fuchsia lights scanning over the crowds of lethargic college students intermingled with what, under normal circumstances, I could only assume to be highly caffinated students. The screen behind the musicians dances and flashes with the movements of a multi-tone neon screen saver. As the music rises and falls, (maybe that's too much credit; there are slow songs and fast ones anyway) the performers raise their hands artistically, which is apparently contagious because soon all kinds of people are waving their hands in the air, eyes closed in pious devotion. Maybe I shouldn't question their sincerity. Perhaps they have hard lives and seek comfort in feeling close to Jesus. The girl in the H&M cute but casual summer dress only talked to her parents five times this week, and they aren't buying her the newest Macbook, so maybe she feels lonely and in need of a father's arms. As the high sound volume causes the floor to vibrate and the sounds waves echo in her ears, she can almost feel His comforting touch. I capitalized "His" because I'm referring to God. And I wouldn't want to run the risk of irreverence at the expense of breaking common grammar rules. But out the classroom and back to chapel. The music majors on stage want to serve God better than anyone else can serve God, with their musical skill which is better than anyone elses musical skill, and better than all other gifts because we can all see them using it to serve God, and serve him more sacrificially than anyone so gifted could be expected. Which is of course why the worship leader's eyes are closed and he's speaking nonsense. Apparently the more ways you can figure out to say or sing the exact same thing, the more in tune you are with the spirit. As far as worship goes. Also, since all of us can't read the words that are conveniently displayed on the screen above his head, it's necessary for the worship leader to take matters into his own hands and quickly say the line we are about to sing before we sing it. You know, so we know what's coming. Wouldn't want to be thrown off by his raw musical talent that is so daringly unpredictable.
So Monday, Wednesday, and Friday mornings at my private Christian university are a little rough sometimes. But honestly, I don't blame anyone other than myself. However, this morning, I was in the more low key of our chapel options, and was met with a ray of sanity in the form of a golden, curly haired young man. On stage, conspicuously off mic, the electric guitarist smiled, bobbed his head, and every once in a while did a little dance to himself as he played. It's like what you see when watching a a new dad play with his beautiful little daughter, or a kid skipping through the park with a popsicle, or an artist happily splashing colors - uninhibited joy. You can tell he believes in music. Whether or not anyone is watching. I've heard him talk about music and spirituality when no one but a few mismatched kids in an old backroom were listening. He talked about why it's good and maybe that's why I believe the smile on his face and the delight in his step. But what really made my heart happy was when one of the girls on vocals started her solo. His face burst into a genuine smile. As he jammed along, he was happy to just be in the presence of and participate in her soaring melodies. It's enough to make me believe in music and in people. It's a little bit of sunshine.