Lenten Project: Day Twenty-eight

I've mentioned that Fundamentalists have some strange views on music.  Reading through my diaries a few days ago reminded me of an incident at Bob Jones University my sophomore year.  I'd brought with me some music recorded and produced by Pensacola Christian College, in addition to a lovely recording of a Bible Conference at a Fundy church in Singapore (pastored by a BJU grad, it received many visits from the Joneses).

Well, one day, I was playing these CDs in my dorm room, when my room's spiritual leader turned to me suddenly and accused me of failing to get them checked.  I told her I'd gotten them checked the year before, and they'd been approved.  Not good enough, she said.  I needed to get them rechecked each semester, according to what the dorm sup had recently told her.  (I did find out later that she and my dorm sup this particular semester were actively seeking ways to reprimand me--I got that straight from from the dorm sup herself at the end of the year when she advised me that I'd have to be under spiritual counseling the next year.  She said they were trying to remove my stubborn will and "break my spirit" of pride.)

Since the deadline for getting music checked had passed, I was in trouble for "failing to follow instructions."  My perfectly acceptable CDs were confiscated and I was slapped with a penalty of 20 demerits.  The dorm sup said she was being merciful by not giving me 50.  I wished she'd stuff it with the mercifulness.  I never did get those CDs back.

My parents' rules about music were very similar (though they'd allowed the PCC music without question).  While home on a visit after I was married, my mom caught me listening to Phillips, Craig, and Dean worship music.  It's CCM, and she gave back my earbuds with a look of disgust on her face.  "How could that possibly glorify the Lord, Hannah?"  I'm still surprised she didn't fuss over me letting my youngest sister have a listen, and that shock is probably why I remember the incident so vividly.

To a person who has been weaned on Patch the Pirate and classical music, anything "other" is not only different, but evil.  Majesty Music, the production arm of Patch the Pirate's musical ministry, actually teaches that music has morals, and any music not in keeping with their standards is wicked and from satan.

For me, as a missionary kid, receiving that message was confusing up against my experiences.  In Grenada, we'd clap along to hymns, sometimes even getting really into it and keeping rhythm, which is bad, according to Frank Garlock of Majesty Music. In his view, that sort of thing is the reason for the high divorce rate among Christians, among other evils.  In Singapore, the music could be ethnic and beautiful, but we saw it as strange and odd and only allowed hymns accompanied by piano in our church.  Those churches that went wild with drums, Asian instruments, and songs in other languages--not in hymn format--were worldly. I don't think I would have survived India, with its gorgeous music--I'd have been too busy judging everything as sin, based on the principles I'd been taught.

It's a sad way to view the world, let me tell you.  The disdain and disgust at beauty isn't very Christian, I've come to realise, and I still struggle to be more accepting and appreciative of the things I never knew growing up.  Ironically, I don't much care for CCM anymore, preferring old hymns in my church worship and liturgy.  But that doesn't mean I think churches who use modern Christian music are damned by God just for worshiping with that style of music. Letting go of such tight control of "what is pleasing to The Lord" lets me appreciate and even admire a lot of beautiful music I used to think was satanic. And guess what? A lot of it IS glorifying to God, after all! Even Nirvana, in a strange way. It's true.

Lenten Project: Day Four

Being a missionary kid is pretty awesome, and there are plenty of great experiences that come with a life of world travelling.  But there are some things which, it turns out, are not so awesome after all, though I believed so as a kid.  Some of those things are just plain weird, and not really in the most positive of ways.

One of those weird things is how we kids used to be told to "sing for our supper" when being fed in American Christians' homes while on furlough in the US.  Dad would say, before or after we'd eaten (and we had to eat everything we were given, even if it was horrible), "Okay, girls, time to sing for your supper!"

We dressed the part--missionary barrel clothes!

Maybe he was joking.  But disobedience was never an option, unless we wanted a beating.  Besides, we thought we were incredible singers.  Everyone who heard us called us the Von Schaefer Family Singers.  It definitely went to our heads, because we really weren't even that good.  

We've sung in churches and missions conferences and homes all across America, and in countries all over the globe.  We've sung indoors and outdoors, on street corners and in front of fireplaces.  We've sung with microphones and without, with accompaniment and a capella. We've sung in unison and we've harmonised in five parts (or more).

Still, we were untrained and had no idea what we were doing half the time.  We just made it all up on the fly, and it usually worked out.

We also can all play different musical instruments.  Yes, we were the archetype of the Independent Fundamental Baptist missionary family.  All homeschooled, too!  (But that's another story.)

I'm the eldest daughter, and I taught myself to play the piano; slowly and painstakingly figuring out how to read music while banging out hymns on an old baby grand in the vacant church building we temporarily lived in during furlough in 1999.  Then I figured out the organ.  I was given an old clarinet, which I taught myself to play (I fainted the first time I managed to get a good strong note from it, from all the blowing--it takes lung power!).  In Singapore, my parents bought me a cello, and I taught myself how to play that as well.  While in college, I dabbled in oboe and the harp.  (I am possibly an overachiever.)  I am an expert in none of those instruments.

Ignore the weird headcovering--post coming soon about that!

The next Schaefer girl down received a violin in Singapore, and she got lessons and everything!  I believe she's the only one out of all of us who ever got real lessons, outside of college.  The rest of us just muddled through and pretty much taught ourselves.

The third Schaefer girl played the flute and the trumpet.

Lizzy really could play very well.

The next girl played the piano and flute.

And the last two girls didn't have any musical instrument skills.  Well, that's not entirely true.  We older ones had the task of teaching the youngest ones our instruments, but the lessons didn't really "stick" in that the youngest girls didn't play any instruments when we performed together as a musical group.

Music is great.  Having kids learn to play various instruments is wonderful.  But, for us missionary kids, it was more of a useful talent--we were encouraged to play because we could then be used like items in a show and tell.  We were never encouraged towards music for the beauty of music's sake.  And I think that's rather a shame.  Always on display, always tools in our parents' ministries, it was easy to think we had no purpose outside of those ministries.

Mary and I prepare for a musical offering for church.

I am grateful for my talents in music.  Absolutely.  I do, however, wish I'd been allowed to sing something other than Baptist sacred music and hymns.  I wish I'd been allowed to play something besides hymns and classical music.  I wish my sisters and I could have had jam sessions to have a good time, not just to prepare for the next church service or sacred performance.  Music is so much more varied and wonderful than I experienced growing up.  It's a whole ocean of beauty and fun, but we only got a bucket-full and were told that's all there was.