I just had a very brief foray into church musicianship. Via Craigslist, I set up an impromptu audition at a newly established church in a strip mall. The audition really just consisted of me setting up my gear, playing a few chords, and keeping my mouth shut when the pastor got going about God.
“Well, brother David, if you’re willing to work with us, we’re sure willing to work with you (praise God).”
A member of the flock showed up at random in the middle of this.
“Oh, your name is David too? Another giant slayer! (Thank you Jesus)”
“Um, well I don’t have any giants to slay…”
I agreed to come for a week, Sunday and Wednesday, and then reassess the situation. Come Sunday, I was given a lengthy introduction…
“…now brother David has not played in a church before, but he is willing to learn with us (praise Jesus). And anyone who is willing to LEARN the GOSPEL (hallelujah!) is welcome in this house of God (amen). And we thank God for bringing brother David here today (thank you Jesus), for He knew what we needed, and He knew what brother David needed…”
…and then I was simply told to start playing. I plunked out a few churchy sounding chords and the service got going. It was Father’s Day, and the service was conducted by three guest preachers, of increasing intensity. The first:
“Now today is not just a day for fathers, it’s also His day. In fact, every day is His day…”
The next told the story of his darkest moment — his leg was set to be amputated, his wife left him, his car was repossessed. But with the help of Jesus, the doctors were able to save his leg, a mysterious stranger paid rent for his new apartment, etc.
“And this did not happen two thousand years ago! (Thank you Jesus) A miracle in my own life time, God came and took care of me when I needed Him! (Hallelujah!)”
The third was a lady who asked me to play organ in A minor, so I made up a little progression which was apparently good enough (“Keep doing that”). She belted out a song, preached a lengthy sermon about the Midianites…
“And you had seven hundred and twenty dollars put away (Lord), and you KNEW where that money was, but when you returned it had been taken from you (my God)! And that is the Midianite presence in your home! (Praise Jesus)”
…and then she proceeded with the faith healing. Yes, I accompanied a faith healing session. Well, actually most of it was her own CD of gospel music, while I sat there twiddling my thumbs. At the end of the day, they gave me an uncomfortably long goodbye, asked expectantly if I would come back, and actually took a collection to pay me (“a blessing for brother David”). So far, so good?
I went back on Wednesday and it started out fun and raucous. I kicked off the night with a long improvisation, ranging from stiff-necked hymnal stuff to rhythmic driving gospel with some odd excursions in between. The preacher went all out singing along with it. While it was winding down I experimented with imitations of everything he spoke or sang, following the melody and contour to make it sound like a call-and-response.
We eventually wrapped the music up so the preacher could start speaking in earnest, and that’s when it began turning sour. I say “speaking”… half the time I spent cringing in anticipation of him screaming, his distorted voice blasting out of a speaker directly behind me. Combine this hostile auditory environment with a very uncomfortable chair, and a few key moments:
Guest preacher #2 from Sunday: “The antichrist is going to be a homosexual, you know.”
or, among others:
Pastor: “Maybe someone you used to pray with has stopped living for God, and they are doing the drinking and the drugging and the fornicating…”
Lady in the audience: “Or they became a lesbian!”
Pastor: “Yes, maybe someone in your life who was saved has turned from Jesus…”
…and I realized this would be my last day.
I told the preacher in the parking lot that I wouldn’t be coming back, that I had done the two days I promised and that was enough. He was disappointed and wanted to get more of an explanation out of me, but having just been submitted to two hours of what felt like verbal assault, I didn’t have it in me.
