Comfort or Clangers

I thought I knew what a chord was. I can play arpeggios on my cello, which I figured just about covered it. No. Turns out there’s a lot more to these clusters of notes than I thought. Relative minors. Added on notes to convey a depth, an emotion. Patterns, numbers, theory.

Sheet music for modern praise songs generally come with no bass clef written in. Just the treble, with the tune, and chord changes for the guitars noted on every bar.

For years I’ve shied away from joining in on those songs. Or I’ve played the melody. Or occasionally just chugged away on the note named for the guitars. But I long to let myself go, to express my worship to God in a creative way and just somehow sing out a countermelody or a harmony. And to be confident that when I do, I’m not going to play a cringing clashing clanger.

That’s where a bit of study of chord theory seems a good idea.

Trying to find words to comfort a bereaved friend, I find there is no line prepared for me. I have to draw a deep breath and silently pray as I fumble for words that will console. I’m afraid of uttering a clanger that will sound heartless or cold. I rely on listening more intently, hugging, expressing my sorrow for her loss.

Sometimes life’s melody is in such a sad, minor key that it’s hard to find any way to harmonise. That’s when a strong bass note comes into its own, perhaps. The only note that can offer real comfort is the name of Jesus.