Last month in the Philippines, I was given a new perspective. I saw the body of Christ, that is, the Church, as an orchestra and God as the conductor. For those of you who come from musical backgrounds, or perhaps are still active band nerds, you may be able to understand this metaphor more easily. For those who are not, understand that in a band or an orchestra, there are many musical families, such as the woodwind instruments like the flutes and clarinets, the brass instruments, such as trumpets, trombones, and tubas, and the percussion section which includes drums and bells and all the other odds and ends that don’t use air through the mouth to play. In an orchestra you also have the stringed instruments: the violins, the cellos, and so forth.
So how is the Church like an orchestra? Well, in any musical arrangement an orchestra plays, the different families may have different features in the piece, or at the very least different roles. During a quiet section the flutes may be instructed by the conductor to play forte, or full, while the brass’ music has them rest in silence for several measures. In the same musical piece, the trumpets may be given the melody for part of the number while the woodwinds fill in the background support. Musical arrangements are dynamic. That is, the roles of the different instruments and families change throughout the piece. A good conductor will be aware of how to guide the various musical families in how they should be playing at each point in the piece.
Now, imagine Christians as the different musical instruments and families, and God is the Good Conductor. At some points in our lives, we are featured in the musical number. God may bring out our abilities in order to create a certain sound. But at other times, we may be told to play piano, or softly, because He wants to feature another instrument.
This past month in the Philippines, I found myself being instructed to play softly. At first, I didn’t realize that was my part in the musical arrangement. I was used to being the feature in Nicaragua. Because I was the only fluent Spanish-speaker on my team and because almost no one in our church spoke English, I was asked over and over to translate sermons, instructions, and daily conversations. I sought out relationships with our host family and the community members and was eager to be involved in every aspect. I loved it, and I played my part the very best that I could. In transition to the Philippines though, I had taken my eyes off of the conductor and foolishly lost sight of who the musical feature was supposed to be. The musical notes on my sheet music suddenly showed rests, but because I wasn’t aware that the conductor wanted to feature another musical section of instruments, I felt like I was ruining the music and letting everyone down around me by not having the right notes to play.
It took a team fast and some reflection on what worshiping God means to remind me to look up at my Conductor for direction on how I should be playing. When I did, the change in music made so much more sense to me, and I saw specific teammates and squad-mates being instructed to play forte, and the result was so beautiful. I was able to just sit and listen to the sounds they made, the sounds of starting consistent daily bible studies with members of the community, of building a relationship with a Muslim jewelry vendor who eventually even came to our church’s last service; a sound of a little girl laughing and holding hands with one of my squad-mates, and of the teenage youth being encouraged to step up and take on roles of responsibility within the church. These were beautiful sounds, and if I hadn’t realized my own role in the musical number that month was to rest, I may have missed hearing them completely by being so focused on my own part.
God uses us in different ways at different times. Keep your eyes on the Conductor so that you may be aware of when He wants you to play out and when He’s asking you to quiet down so that He can feature another part. The sounds fit together in a beautiful arrangement.
