I heard a horn.
The tune they were jamming up at the front, it had a splender and a groove to it that was both fat and refined. New, yet comfortably pleasant. Something familiar, but something which in fact had never been played or heard before. Creative and fresh. A New Groove.
The amplified guitar was crisply pealing, and the snare popped a solid rhythm as the cymbals twinkled and bass kick thrumped alongside. Simple chords bobbed from the keys, a 4 and a 1 and a 4 and a 1, right in the pocket where they belonged.
But in it’s completeness I could hear something that wasn’t there. The urgency that suddenly crept up inside me was exciting but also confusing. It totally needs a horn. The horn is missing.
Where are we going to get a horn?
Is this, that horn I hear in my head, the beginning of a brass section actually making sense for the first time and not just someone else’s preference or idea?
As the New Groove leapt and curved, the horn notes in my head were as plain as reality. My ears didn’t hear them, but nonetheless they were there, just as they were supposed to be. As they had been prophesied.
You are letting me hear things, aren’t You? Things that Are Not as though they Were?
The evening moved along, and as revelation unfolded and facets were polished, the horn took a backseat on the bench of my mind.
There is an ebb and flow to supernatural presence sometimes, and here at the end of the evening, we have found ourselves in one. We have gathered densely for the conclusion, and for a closeness of unification to resolve ourselves until next time. From the outer fringe of things where I like to dwell, it seems like I am on the edge of a thick grove of human undergrowth, various heights, various types.
And then somewhere obscured within the grove of us, as the atmosphere rests calmly in a momentary suspension, as a reprise of The New Groove stretches out for a last farewell, a horn begins to play.
It rises, extending itself up, out, over. With a sound like a light umbrella web of golden oil, an honest to goodness horn starts playing.
My soul and spirit begin screaming in unison inside me. DO YOU HEAR THIS? A HORN IS PLAYING!!!! IT IS PLAYING ALONG WITH THE GROOVE AND IT IS EXACTLY WHAT WE HEARD?!?!!! IT’S THE HORN. IT IS HERE.
A. HORN. IS. BEING. PLAYED. RIGHT. NOW.
Like a fullback after a stunning tackle, I stumble back and turn away as my emotions begin to crumble. I drop to a knee, leaning against a few chairs at the end of the front row, and begin laughing and crying at the same time. I can barely comprehend this.
Someone in the grove of humanity, as improbable as it sounds, just took the opportunity during our wordless Selah and began playing a soprano saxophone. With unusual skill, no less.
How or why there came to be an individual in our gathering tonight with a brass horn instrument I have not the faintest idea, but as the currents and dancing ripples of the horn joined in with the other instruments, I force in some deep breaths and wipe at my eyes.
According to Amos 3:7, the Sovereign Lord does nothing without first revealing His plan to His servants. And for this creative heart of music and worship tonight, Amos 3:7 was in full effect.