Here under the lights, I feel the bass— rather than hear it.
From here, I see only outstretched palms. The faces that belong to them to are but stencils in the dimness. Further back, only shapes move to a beat that drives from beside me.
“My life is a life for your cause
My will laid aside for your call
And reserved are the depths of my heart
Only for You.”
They are lyrics that have been circling in my mind all week as I practiced the chords that go behind them. I have turned them over in my hands a dozen times. I have prayed for them to be true for me. I have meant them.
There is a point in this song where all seems to stop, like a heartbeat on a monitor flat-lining.
The near silence after this point spans eighth bars —a near eternity when the next part depends on you.
On the ninth, it is the drummer and my turn. We revolve each other’s parts in patterns completely independent, yet complimentary. Clashing, yet matching.
I feel the riff close in on me, so the only thing I can hear are the circling of these notes. The beats rippling out from the glass beside me go silent, yet I still see the motion in the corner of my eye. For about 30 seconds, it’s just me and these five notes, cycling in triples.
The singer joins us. Soon our crescendo dawns into a complexity that becomes simple.
For these six minutes there is nothing else but Him and those of us in this room. It is an unlikely unity, but it falls into sense as it happens. About 50 young men and women chorus in an anthem with words I wonder if we even fully comprehend. Even the song writer recognized it:
“No eye has seen, no ear has heard
The depths of your love, Lord
No mind can fathom the love you deserve
How great You are.”
For these six minutes, I think I understand what the songwriter calls rhythms of grace sound like.