Last year sometime church was about sticks. Twelve volunteers held their bamboo poles, two of them taking the opportunity to spar a bit. It can be tempting when you feel well armed to whack it around just because you can.

 

The stick that became beautiful belonged to Aaron the high priest. Overnight it grew leaves, and flowers and even almonds. This happens with us when the things we know become subservient to how we care.

 

The song leader told a story about earning his PhD in musicology. He attended hundreds of lectures covering such subjects as the proper transition between a diminished fourth and a dominant chord. His thesis was an exhaustive treatise about music, and yet when it was finally edited, revised, printed, and bound... it lay silently on the adviser's desk.  

 

Not so his guitar that morning. The strings vibrated joyfully through each song, lifting the hearts of a hundred worshippers. His fingers tugged and tickled each one in turn, transforming black circles on the page into something receptive of feeling.

 

Knowing things can come in handy. Yet it is when they bloom into action that truth comes alive.