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Wednesday, October 27, 2010

Great Controversy in my Space

From last week Monday, to date--and continuing on to this coming Saturday--a powerful series of evangelistic meetings are taking place at Gamalakhe, a local township with an informal settlement attached to it in the Port Shepstone area of KwaZulu-Natal's South Coast. Apart from my literally hating the series of so-called speed humps unstrategically placed around the township's major, roundabout road, I was intrigued to notice that it has a powerful sea view. It may be distant, but it is there. There is little evidence to show that it does anything to the local property values, but then, I digress. It isn't that bit of the Great Controversy that intrigues me right now.

Here is my source of intrigue. I am musical. The older I grow, the more that I am learning to appreciate the power and pathos of music. For one thing, while variety is the spice of life, it is interesting that life is just life. There is no variety to its own essence. The sun always rises in the east and sets in the west. We NEVER get a variety of the sun setting in the south and rising in the north. Each day is always 24 hours long, and every week seven days long. There is never a day that is an hour longer or shorter, or a week devoid of a day or two. Despite the significance of variety in life, the presence of certain key constants is part of what makes life worth living. Without these constants, we would not be alive, or if we were, we would not know that we were experiencing variety in life in its other aspects where we ought.

This is the reason for my preamble: with due respect to the pastors behind this evangelistic campaign, I had the shock of my life to hear them say that they intend to dispense with the use of our regular song book and songs during this campaign. To them, the prospect of proselytising some of the folk that they hope will visit  the meetings requires them to set the music to the tone of the songs and manner of singing in the other churches around us. They hope to draw the people's attention by singing their music. Apparently, some visitors to other Adventist campaigns of a similar sort have hailed the truthfulness and power of the Advent message, but shunned subsequent Adventist church fellowship because they apparently did not understand Adventist music. To a man whose whole life is devoted to ministering to the spiritual needs of a growing congregation, it is a blow to his keen sense of duty when some prospective members use such excuses to stay away from swelling the ranks of Adventist congregations. In a sense, the extent to which a particular congregation grows reflects positively or otherwise on a pastor's performance. This is so despite the pastors and the conference leaders who organise their labours knowing that it is the Holy Spirit's duty to convert human hearts--NOT the pastors'.

We have been treated, therefore, to a continual contradiction in terms. The singing, more often than not, contradicts the essence of Advent singing and songs. When the sermon comes onto the stage, it does the very inverse; it more than sticks to the true essence of the Advent message. Throughout the days of the campaign's duration, I feel this inconsistency deeply--but my pastors are as at home with it as ever.

To illustrate the irony of the situation, they hired the services of a young man from another congregation, but one who knows these alternative songs and plays them on piano/keyboard. Since he does not have a piano/keyboard of his own, he used mine. On the very first day that I did, I thanked the Almighty when I heard the young man asking for the functions to activate the automatic rhythms on the keyboard. I use a professional digital synthesiser. If one must use drums on it, they must programme them on a computer. I could just picture the cacophony of so-called religious sound that a keyboard with automatic rhythms would have created! Again, I thank God that such a facility was not available for the young man's use.

This past weekend, two days in a row, this young man failed to turn up for his playing appointment.  By the time that he decided to return, the local pastor had decided against using his services. Here is where I read some deep irony. For someone who had been consistently coming to the meetings as an instrumentalist, but belonging to a different denomination, one would have thought that the messages in the sermons during the time that he spent at the venue of the meetings would have created a positive impression on him. Now that he no longer had to play an instrument, one would have thought that he would have stayed the meetings, at least for that one, as testimony to the power of the spoken word. As soon as he heard that his musical services were no longer necessary, he politely turned around and walked away.

So much for using music that is predominantly foreign to the gospel of Jesus Christ to introduce the gospel of Jesus Christ. His music stood between his availability for musical reasons and his availability to tune into the spoken word. Most musical people are impervious to the power of the spoken word because the bewitching power of music makes it almost impossible for them to hear anything spoken. They are as good as drunk.

My own take of this situation is three-fold:

  1. Advent music, in its own right, is a mixture of hymns that the Adventist church has inherited from all sorts of different walks in the Christian experience, beginning with Methodism, down to Lutheranism. Even Baptists and a variety of other contemporary Christian musicians have contributed immensely to Advent hymnody. What makes the Adventist setting in music different from the same sources from which some of its music emanates is simply this: Adventism uses its biblically-driven theology to rigorously preselect its songs. Adventism also edits any theologically inept lyrics from any songs that it decides to borrow. This preselection, effectively, means that all Adventists who are conversant with the biblical tenets of their faith need to stand and remain unmoved by any attempt to veer away from the use of Advent songs in any Adventist evangelistic campaign or worship service. For as long as Adventist preachers do not see the need to merge their theology with that of other professed Christian persuasions--and rightly so, Adventist songs, likewise, do not need the same compromise.
  2. By the time that any converts stream into the fellowship of the Adventist faith, an adjustment shock of sorts awaits them in the churches to which they will belong. The borderline, compromised music that sounded so familiar to the one that they were used to in their churches is NOT standard fare within most mainstream Adventist churches. A question of truth-telling and honesty then raises its ugly head at this point. Was it REALLY honest to be so unrepresentative of Adventism at the point of musically advertising it (so to speak) that Adventists would deceptively use the musical advertising strains of a competing brand to garner the support of unsuspecting customers (as we would call them IF this were a business venture), only to peel off their fake, outer veneer as soon as the customers have filed into the shop for the falsely-advertised product? Would the God who categorically stated in His commandments that it is immoral to bear false witness against our neighbours be charmed with our attempts to win converts through a breach of this specific commandment?
  3. Music, itself, has a power on the human psyche that eclipses that of the spoken word. Most preachers do not know this, and even upon being reliably informed that such is the case, they still find solace in their routine and retinue of theological expertise garnered from their alma mater theological seminaries. I repeat: the power of music has a greater hold on the human psyche than does the art of the finest preaching. To excite the sensibilities of people with a strain of music that is an antithesis to one's spoken word is to effectively work against one's own objective. Most of the Christian music that is popular in today's predominantly pentecostal religious world is extremely exciting, sensuous and titillating. Having lowered the mind's guard to the basest of extents, it is little wonder that there isn't much concerted effort from attendees at these powerful preaching services, where the compromising music preceded the preaching, to convert the "amens" throughout the sermons to actual, conscientious conduct.
As this part of the Great Controversy between the forces of darkness and light continues, my call is simple: we need to choose to create an atmosphere of perfect, mind-clarity in a service dedicated to the worship of God. God's word ought to appeal to the intellect--not to base sensuality and excited emotions.

Wasn't that a simple task?

Thursday, October 7, 2010

Renewal

After months of absence from this blog, the time to renew postings has come.  After all, there is a time for everything.

My son has not taken a nap in ages (or so it seems), and today--of all days--he slept on my lap.  He has been at it for the past three hours. I expect him to be as hungry as a lion upon his awakening.

I am busy editing the content of my second book. I find it ironic that the blog post that I posted on January 29 last year is now part of the content of my first book, "Euangelion on Facebook" (http://stores.lulu.com/nxumalo). Some of the folk who bought this volume are already inquiring about a sequel. Well, there is some content that is gathering dust on my Facebook notes as we speak, so I guess there will be a sequel. I am too surprised to even think that there will not be one.

My daughter is the only other person in the house, for now. I expect my sister-in-law to breeze in a little while later. If she were not family, I would have preferred that this stage of hormonal expression should occur outside my space. I have two cases on my hands, including this daughter of mine who is in the house right now. While she has not yet come of age, I have begun to sense the tremors caused by the molten lava of hormonal pressure, building up from the inside out. Lord, have mercy!

As for my wife, I just wished she did not work. It is not that I am some sexist, chauvinistic pig. No; that is not the case. It is just that the health of a marital union is not as dependent on monetary means as it is on an investment of time, Time and more TIME. When the pursuit of income factors itself into this picture, including the odd situation in which we find ourselves: she works a good 110 kilometres from home and there is hardly a thing we can do about it until we miraculously find a place to stay that is closer to where she works, there is less and less of that time on the marital side of the equation. Lord, have mercy once more.

I have now steeped my energies into writing books, keeping up with friends online, sipping from their encouragement and also offering them mine. Once in a while, I also dabble in debate, offering solicited advice (and every now and then, unsolicited--eish!) plus trying to follow this link and that link offering prospects in creating an income stream from the comfort of my home, online. I am still devoid of that income since my initial quests a little more than 10 years ago.

I can finally say, without regret, I would be glad to see Jesus break the eastern skies and put this world out of its misery. It is one thing to long for relief from this world when I am most probably unprepared for the next. While Jesus empathises, I am wont to think that He is also as interested in my making it into the new dispensation that I believe His topmost priority is just that: how many can He get ready for the new dispensation?

Your guess is as good as mine. However, this one thing I know: Jesus NEVER performs below par.

Monday, February 9, 2009

What a hectic day!

A friend of mine asked about my hectic day yesterday, and it was my pleasure to confirm to him that I did have a hectic day indeed! However, it was my pleasure to have the hectic day.

You see, that one wife that I have, thanks to God's grace, spent the weekend with us, together with my 10-month old son. We therefore squeezed quite a bit of family time and fun into the weekend as we could. We even went so far as to accompany my wife and son to her temporary abode in Port Edward. That was my two daughters, Cwebile and Nomsa, my sister-in-law, Asive, my wife and the little chap. We had such a grand time in Port Edward that Nomsa didn't want to return; she felt like staying over in Port Edward. The only cost to that fun trip was my sleep. Asive hadn't completed her homework (Physical Science, of all the subjects!). I ended up sleeping WAY past midnight, and had to be up before 7:00 AM to make sure that Cwebile was ready for school. Well, Asive also slept late, but while I slept, she had to be up to prepare to go to school herself. I owe her that round, I guess, but I could argue that the assistance with her homework makes up for that inconvenience, aye?

Of course, that would have some serious logistical nightmares as Nomsa is only five, stays home with me when Cwebile is in school, and my wife has her sister-in-law helping her mind our son at her place of work. To add Nomsa to that fray would be too much.

I must confess this myself: I didn't WANT to leave either...

Well, today, it turned out that there were some critical items that my wife forgot to pack into her pilgrim belongings in Port Edward. We liaised by phone and agreed that I would trek back to Port Edward to deliver this. We all trekked there, in fact, but, fortunately for us, as I type this, Asive's homework is done; she has gone off to sleep, and it is only just past 10PM as I draft this entry.

Again, I didn't want to return from Port Edward today. Each time I look at my wife, now that she stays away from here, she is sexier than ever, and that little chap seems to sense that life just isn't all right unless we are all together, and he has the grandest of times when his sisters are around. I really miss them, but I miss my wife the more, I must confess.

I was telling her that we need to relocate the house from Port Shepstone to Port Edward, somehow. I've never been sure which one of the two maxims particularly applies to our relationship: "absence makes the heart grow fonder" and "familiarity breeds contempt." I've had episodes where I was certain that I am experiencing the one OR the other. In fact, this momentary separation is taking place at a time when there was more turmoil associated with our living together in Port Shepstone than it was by enjoying the experience of living in each others' company. Well, that company is now limited to weekends only, and I am NOT liking the separation at all.

My ideal situation?

I wished I could relocate this house from Port Shepstone to Port Edward, just so that my wife has someone to come to while this phase of our lives lasts. However, if this separation is necessary to foster a spirit of rekindled joy and family links, then I welcome this stressor, for it comes for a reason. I hope to outlast its hefty weight on my spirit so that I can appreciate the lessons and grooming that it has to bring to my life.

Wednesday, February 4, 2009

Where it all began

I've been on the face of this planet for a little over 30 years now. Born and bred on a Christian mission station in the southern part of Zimbabwe, I especially appreciate the background that I have and the place that I could call home on that mission field now that I have left. Thanks to the political exploits of Robert Mugabe, I find no pleasure in watching the world around me wither in another man's hands.

My earliest memories of my life are from as far back as the years when I was two, turning three, and I was conscious of the fact that I had a family, two brothers and a sister. I particularly remember this one memory that I will detail here.

My father is a pastor who later trained to be a high school teacher. His area of expertise was Zulu and History. From my earliest memories, he has spoken English in an accent that I can't quite place, but you would have to look twice to confirm that, indeed, this is an African man speaking in English! Despite that high polish in his English, he is as Zulu as they come. He is now retired from active duty. In his early years as a full-time pastor, he was once stationed in Fort Victoria (now called Masvingo, in Zimbabwe). I have a faint, but lingering memory, of playing with one Tobaiwa Masarira. From my mother's recollections of those times, I used to have a fondness for this chap that I can hardly remember because I was SO young!

If I try to get any more specific than that, I am likely to get a concentration headache, so I will leave that aspect of my telling to a time yet future when something might just prod my memory to remember in more detail.

After Masvingo, my father was stationed in Plumtree, and that is where my younger (of the two brothers that I have) was born.

I will take the story up from there tomorrow.

Sunday, February 1, 2009

Drained...

As for today's events, this idealist is TIRED--dog tired.

When my wife and I decided on opening up that health shop, we had the idea of relocating to a place that we thought was ideal: Port Shepstone. I have already expressed my sentiments about the "ideal" place that Port Shepstone is, so I will make do with what I have. If anything, let the place serve to be a stepping stone to actual ideals.

When we acted on the idea, we separated for some months by a distance of over 450 kilometres. Neither one of us liked that separation, but we deemed it temporary and necessary. In the meantime, my wife prepared to relocate HER business interests to where I was so that we could be together.

Today marks the close of that chapter of togetherness. In a bid to contain the economic losses sustained in last year's foiled attempt to launch the health shop successfully in Port Shepstone, my wife will begin cooping up in a little cottage midway between where we stay and her place of work. The stretch is some odd 110 kilometres. My wife has been driving this stretch every weekday and some Sundays from August 2008 to date. From the halfway point about which I speak, the road is crosses a provincial boundary. From a fairly well-maintained road, it narrows down considerably in width, winds through the most hazardous and haranguing of landscapes, meandering through hilly, forbidding terrain, with many a pothole plus lots of cattle and other domestic animals on the public thoroughfare. Some of the cattle appear to be two-legged as they walk right along the pathway created for vehicles, and walk in such a fashion as to seem oblivious to the vehicles that whizz by, unmindful of the highly likely possibility of being hit by one.

Cattle on the road! That's another story (if not several) for another day.

Suffice it to say that we have come full circle. We will be living separately AGAIN, indefinitely, until my less-than-ideal situation as the husband and father in this house is sorted out along economic lines. I would LOVE to contribute meaningfully to the family budget, and that is just not happening in these circumstances. Lord in heaven, hear our plea!

It could be the very thought of this impending separation, or it could be other factors, or a combination of all of these, but I am just drained. Even as I type this, I am overdue to be in bed, and here I go: off to bed.

One day, I should be able to sleep at 9:00 PM, consistently. In my ideal world.... In my ideal world.

O, well!