loud

I’m not sure when it stopped mattering to me. At some point in the last forty years, things changed drastically.

I don’t care what they think anymore.

But, I’m getting ahead of myself, aren’t I? Perhaps, a little explanation will aid in unravelling my boast.

It was during the last semester of the school year. The beloved director of the student orchestra, which graciously allows me to participate—I think, just to have the part covered—had handed out a new music piece.

We sight-read the piece. Sight-reading is the act of playing a piece of music through without having ever rehearsed—or even seen—it before.

I didn’t realize it was true of my playing, but it must have been. After the rehearsal session was over, as we were putting away our instruments, one of the students mentioned that he had heard my solo line clearly.

I don’t know how you dare do that—play it loud enough for everyone else to hear. And, on the first run-through, too!

I thought a minute before replying.

There’s no one here I’m afraid of. Why not play it out?

It hasn’t always been the case. My old horn teacher hammered the thought into my head. I’ve written the words before.

If you’re going to make a mistake, make it loud enough for me to hear!

The last time I wrote the phrase, someone responded with Martin Luther’s words, paraphrased a bit.

Sin boldly.

I cringe a little at the words. I don’t want to encourage anyone to live a life of debauchery, claiming the grace of God as their get-out-of-jail-free card. That’s not the way it works.

But, Mr. Luther knew and understood our lifelong tug of war with self and sin. He affirmed the grace of God to be more than adequate to the task of cleansing us from all sin.

Still. I will say it again. Play it out! Speak with authority! Belt out the tune!

I’ve not always followed that advice. For many years, what I wanted was to be loud enough that everyone would hear the good and compliment me for it, but soft enough that not one listener could detect the rotten inconsistencies that were bound to turn up sooner or later.

What changed?

What changed was the realization that there was nobody—either in the ensemble or in the audience—I was afraid of. There is nothing they can do to hurt me.

I’m just sorry it took me so many years to realize it.

All those wasted years spent sliding around wrong notes and playing out of tune—meekly and quietly—when I could have been making a difference.

Bold and certain of my sanction, I could have been a voice that made a difference, sounding with clarity and purpose.

Hmmm. I think we’re not just talking about playing in the orchestra anymore, are we?

And the Teacher told His disciples that they had been practicing in the dark and behind closed doors at low volumes for long enough. All that was about to change.

What you’ve been playing at the pianissimo level behind closed doors and in the dark will soon be played out in the town square at fortissimo. You’re afraid of the wrong people! Don’t fear them. Fear God. (Luke 12:3,4)

I’ll admit, I’ve taken a little liberty with the context. To my knowledge, that little band of men has no record of having played musical instruments, even though they did sing a time or two.

Still, the meaning is the same. Very nearly.

Don’t be afraid to be heard. Be loud! Be bold!

But, maybe you don’t play a musical instrument. Perhaps you simply answer a telephone. Or clean floors. Or write code. Or sell flowers.

Whatever you do, you can do it with boldness. You’re not doing it for anyone who has the power to harm you.

We perform for the One who has made it clear, unequivocally and emphatically that He will not allow us to be harmed. Under His direction, we find safety. (Psalm 46:1)

Does that imply that no one will laugh at us? Is it a promise of physical protection, that we will lead charmed lives?

You know the answer. Damage to the body is not damage to the soul.

He holds our souls in the palm of His hand. It is the only safe place—the only one.

So, we speak boldly. We act courageously. We love audaciously.

Speak boldly. Act courageously. Love audaciously. Share on X

There’s nothing to hurt us here.

There's nothing to hurt us here. We're held firmly in His grip. Share on X

Held firmly in His grip, we live life out loud.

Fortissimo.

ff!

Live well. Sing out, sing loud, and sing often. And God bless the child that’s got a song.
(Nanci Griffith ~ American singer/songwriter)

The wicked run away when no one is chasing them,
but the godly are as bold as lions.
(Proverbs 28:1 ~ NLT ~ Holy Bible, New Living Translation, copyright © 1996, 2004, 2015 by Tyndale House Foundation. All rights reserved.)

A soft answer turneth away wrath: but grievous words stir up anger. (Proverbs 15:1)

And, with those words from the Preacher, you already know enough about me to write my biography.

Funny. I used to think I was the only one. Today, I look around this brave, new world in which we live, and I observe a tsunami of grievous words.

Surely the only possible outcome can be a firestorm of anger.

They sow the wind and reap the whirlwind. Not my words—the prophet Hosea used them centuries ago. The truth hits home more today than at any time I can think of.

Daily we see it. In the public square, there is little civil discourse, only incendiary agitation. Names are called, accusations made, and arguments proclaimed with arrogance and demeaning language. And the other side simply sits quietly and waits their turn.

What? They don’t wait quietly? Well, of course they don’t.

In social media, on television, and through the radio waves, the volume is increased until no one can listen. The only way to inject a viewpoint into the conversation is to scream at opportune moments.

Aided by the instantaneous and public nature of our technology, the clamor is amplified exponentially.

The din is spectacular. And deafening.

And astonishingly pointless.

Quiet communication calms the brawling spirit, but argumentative voices fan the flames.

I still have the old Bible at home and use it frequently. The black leather cover is frayed and ragged at the edges and the binding is separated. And yet, the words on the flyleaf still jump out at me every time I open it. As if it had been written yesterday, the reminder still grips and convicts.

The beautiful script is the handwriting of a loving father who understood, all too well, his teen-aged son.

The words of which I speak are those of the Proverb which you see at the top of this essay.

My father knew his son. He knew what I was made of—knew my bent to argument and arrogance.

I have spent a lifetime trying to tame the beast within, the beast of pride and defiance. But, like the Apostle who was called the brother of our Lord, I have lost the battle with the tiny tongue again and again. James suggests there is not one of us who is able to tame our tongue. (James 3:3-8)

But, it must be tamed. Must be. And the tools are within reach.

The wisdom of our Creator is pure, peace loving, and considerate. (James 3:17)

You see, our Father knows His children and what they are made of. He knows our bent to arrogance and argument.

But, He wants better for us.

I chuckle as I recall the conclusion of James at the end of his disheartening exposé on the untameable tongue. The contrast with the prophet Hosea’s words is striking. James avers that peacemakers who sow in peace reap a harvest of righteousness. (James 3:18)

We don’t have to sow the wind. We don’t have to reap the whirlwind. That crop is not profitable in any way.

Sowing peace, we reap righteousness.

Sowing peace, we reap righteousness. Share on X

Many of the voices I hear raised in rage today claim righteousness. I wonder.

Softly, softly. Our friends across the pond use the term to describe the approach most likely to yield the positive results we seek.

Perhaps we could try that.

Softly.

Shhhh. Be vewy vewy quiet. I’m hunting wabbits.
(Elmer Fudd ~ Loony Tunes cartoon character)

People’s minds are changed through observation and not through argument.
(Will Rogers ~ American humorist/columnist ~ 1879-1935)

He's Taken Leave

Random wanderings with Paul Phillips

Live Boldly

Softly