The first bits of this meditation appeared in my journal last year when I attended, against my better judgement, a hyper-charismatic prayer/healing type service at a church in Abilene (the sort of thing I react to like this). The violin was used during worship. This is my meditation on its use during that service.

* * *

Lovely, the violin plays. An elegant instrument. Taken. Abused. Forced to serve this crass purpose. Forced to give sound to the war chant.

It joins the war mongers—those agitating for militant opposition to the Powers and Principalities. It forms the beat for the inexorable martial march—coerced against its nature to join the drum and the bugle.

And, as the violin plays, captive to this power game, it yearns for the freedom of love. And where is Love? Where is Peace? Where is humility? Where is life through death?

For the king was slaughtered and debased—laying down his life in humility for those who killed him.

His death was shameful. His victory absurd. But it happened.

He calls us to that shame. To that absurdity.

Life through death. Resurrection through crucifixion. Redemption in suffering.

And free in love, the violin plays over it all.

For there is victory in defeat.