How should we sing?

I had to be less than ten. We visited the United Nations—I don’t know why really, or why or when we may have been in New York City. I was just a kid, but I have some kind of memory of standing in front of the UN, but no memories of being inside.

Two images from those New York City streets have stayed with me. A woman who seemed mad was screaming wildly. What she said made no sense, as I remember; but the scene was deeply distressing. Hundreds of people walked right past her. Someone should tell her not to scream, I thought; it’s so disturbing. But no one did, and she kept it up. The Schaaps didn't stop either. Finally, we were out of earshot.

On another street corner stood a man in a sandwich board saying “Repent” or something. I don't recall what the sign said, but I had the same feeling I did when that mad woman wouldn’t stop screaming. This guy was preaching--I knew that; but it felt repulsive, and I was embarrassed. I didn’t want him harping on a Christian faith I knew better by the warmth of Christmas eve or morning prayers with Dad over Sugar Pops.

Our pastor tells the tale of a young man with Down Syndrome in a previous congregation, a kid who had a special love for the way a certain organist would play. Whenever she was at the keys, he’d dance in the aisles.

A man down the block loves to sit outside with his boombox on sweet Sunday afternoons and crank up “The Old Rugged Cross." A men’s quartet with bluegrass roots takes over the neighborhood.

In Psalm 57, David is almost gone in his affection for the God who has saved him so often. He's been delivered once more. It’s as obvious as the nose on his face, so he’s going to sing: “I will praise you, O Lord, among the nations; I will sing of you among the peoples.”

But how? And what tune? what key? And how loud? Snare drums or Native flutes? Bold type or fancy font? Stories or poems? Footnotes or exclamation marks? Classical, folk rock, hip-hop? Johnny Cash or Mahalia Jackson? Marilynne Robinson or the 700 Club? Air Jordans or flip-flops? Just how do we best serve?

A blog is just another sandwich board, I suppose, just another venue for gratitude. 

Daily, I too, hold up a sign.

Sing the songs of wailing women and skinny men in sandwich boards. Dance down the aisles. Fill the neighborhood with Johnny Cash. The older I get, the more I think the answer to the difficult questions is simply this: just sing the songs of love and let the Lord of Hosts create the harmony.