My son Lukas has been managing the sound for church for over twenty years. Even before he was old enough to drive he showed up to plug in cords, and adjust the mikes in preparation for the preacher. I'm unclear how he learned all this except to assure you that it was not from me. It's a good day if I can play music on my computer. He is skilled at his job, and valued by the pastoral team. When he was in high school he felt proud of his contribution.
"If the minister doesn't show up, someone else can fill in. But if I don't, everyone may as well go home. The service is pointless if you can't hear."
These days he and his wife Amy are part of an even larger congregation, and belong to a bunch of people who rotate through the job of sound tech. Lukas has done the lion's share, piping the sound across the street to the sister church and even donating equipment. Since there is a six or seven person band as well as the speaker, there are a slew of things to keep track of.
Recently Amy was on sound, and the band was short one singer.
"I can fill in from the booth," she said.
So in addition to adjusting levels Amy joined in. If anyone with a sharp ear had been paying attention, perhaps they noticed that there were more voices than could be accounted for with the bodies on stage.
The other day I was listening to a friend who is slogging through life. Things have been good in the past, and I dare say will be again. But this year the lows have dropped to dark places.
I found myself saying things I could not have predicted. Words came, in the space where I usually falter. She said it made a difference.
Later I thought about it, and wondered if the compassion was piped in. You know, from somewhere else.
