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The Village Vanguard in New York is one of the greatest jazz clubs in America. It doesn’t serve food. And yet, the club has survived for over 60 years, and has featured some of the greatest jazz musicians in the world. Wander in on a weekday evening, and who knows — you might be treated to a trumpet solo by a superstar such as Wynton Marsalis. That’s exactly what happened to David Hajdu, a writer who stumbled into the Vanguard one Tuesday night and had an amazing experience. Wynton Marsalis, one of the truly exalted rulers of the jazz universe, was part of a small combo offering up a series of bebop classics. The set started off in an unremarkable way, but then Marsalis stepped to the microphone to offer a solo called "I Don’t Stand a Ghost of a Chance With You." It was a melancholy song, full of murmurs and sighs, and Marsalis performed it with deep feeling and expression. At the climax of the song, he played the final phrase in such a way that the trumpet seemed to give actual voice to the heartfelt words. The audience sat in awe, listening in silence. Then it happened. In the middle of that sacred silence, at the song’s most dramatic point, someone’s cell phone erupted in a chirping, sing-song electronic melody. In an instant, the spell was broken. People in the audience giggled nervously, turned to their drinks and resumed their table conversation. Marsalis paused for a beat, and stood motionless. His eyebrows arched. The embarrassed cell-phone owner fled the scene, and the conversation in the club grew louder. The man could have stepped down at that moment and quit the gig, disgusted. After all, he is a king of jazz and doesn’t need to perform in little clubs with rude cell-phone users. But he didn’t move. Instead, he put his lips to his trumpet and replayed the stupid cell-phone melody note for note. Then he played it again, and began improvising variations on the tune. The members of the audience stopped chatting and slowly began to listen up. He changed keys once or twice and then seamlessly eased back into a ballad tempo, and in just a few minutes, finishing his improvisation, he was exactly where he had left off: "I don’t stand … a ghost … of … a … chance … with … you …" The ovation, reports David Hajdu, was tremendous. Wynton Marsalis transformed a rude interruption into a moment of glory. He didn’t allow an unexpected shock to stun him or stop him or silence him, but instead he twisted this setback into a comeback. There’s a message in this for all of us, especially as it reminds us that God does the same thing for us every day. God is the Master of Divine Improv. In his letter to the Philippians, the apostle Paul calls the Christians of this Roman colony to follow his example. Here’s a person who has learned the divine art of improvisation, and he invites the Philippians to do a spiritual riff along with him. Paul himself is an imitator of Jesus Christ (1 Corinthians 11:1). You could think of Paul as a first-century king of jazz, one who has learned his technique at the feet of the master who came before him. Now, he offers private lessons to the Christians who will follow him, and invites them to pick up their instruments and play along with him. First, Paul’s point is that God is playing divine improvisation through his Son Jesus Christ. Go back to the beginning. You have the Creation theme. Oops! The cell phone rings. The Fall. Big interruptions. But the tune goes on. You’ve got the Noah theme. Then the Abrahamic theme. Then the Hebrew community theme. Then the prophetic theme. And then the Messiah theme. Jesus comes to earth in this powerful Improvisation we call the Incarnation. Then the explosive sounds of the Resurrection. Jesus in glory! The risen Lord! Divine Improv. The second variation begins with us. The good news for us is that Jesus Christ, the risen and reigning Son of God, continues to play this transformation tune for our benefit. Jesus is at work in our lives to "transform the body of our humiliation" into "the body of his glory" (v. 21). This means that our undeserved, unexpected and unwanted interruptions and setbacks are transformed into unexpected joys. It means that painful interruptions can become moments of glory. It means that even death itself is not the end for us — in the hands of the master musician, death becomes the intro to everlasting life. Diane Coutu, writing for the Harvard Business Review, said, "Resilient people possess three characteristics: a staunch acceptance of reality; a deep belief that life is meaningful; and an uncanny ability to improvise. You can bounce back from hardship with just one or two of these qualities, but you will only be truly resilient with all three. Are you a resilient person? How well do you handle the minor and major interruptions in your life? Do cell phone intrusions make you irritated, or do they offer you an opportunity to improvise and transform that rudeness into a moment of glory? A young Persian prince, about to ascend the throne, was acutely aware of his need for more knowledge and wisdom. He summoned his philosophers and told them to write a history of the human race. They began at once. Twenty years later they presented the king with the fruits of their research — six thousand volumes. Too busy then to read so many books, the king ordered the scholars to condense their findings into one book. Another 20 years passed, and, at last, they presented the king with the book he’d asked for. But the king was too old and sick to read the book. From his deathbed he looked up at his scholars and cried "Then shall I die without knowing the history of humankind?" "Sir," replied one of the wise men, "I will sum it up for you in a few words, ‘They were born; they suffered; they died.’" I think it is amazing that people are growing up with the false notion that suffering happens to other people. You can tell by how surprised we are when it does happen to us. "Why did this happen to me?" is one of the first questions we ask. Somehow we fail to realize one of the greatest truths of human life. Scott Peck in his book, "The Road Less Traveled," wrote these powerful words, "Life is difficult. This is a great truth, one of the greatest truths. It is a great truth because once we truly see this truth, we transcend it. Once we truly know that life is difficult — once we truly understand and accept it — then life is no longer difficult. Because once it is accepted, the fact that life is difficult no longer matters." How we handle trouble determines our quality of life. Truth is, God can work through Jesus Christ to improvise anything. He can turn adversity into triumph. Agony into empathy. Setbacks into comebacks. God doesn’t promise us just a beautiful little tune, a nice, uninspiring little life with no variation and no tensions to resolve. God does promise to be with each of us through the sufferings we are bound to face, and he is at work in every one of us to turn our body of humiliation into a body of glory. |
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03.07.04 - The Divine Improv (Philippians 3:17-4:1)
