. . . and the sound of the trumpet was very loud, so that all the people who were in the camp trembled. And Moses brought the people out of the camp to meet with God, and they stood at the foot of the mountain. . . And when the blast of the trumpet sounded long and became louder and louder, Moses spoke, and God answered him by voice. . .Now all the people witnessed the thunderings, the lightning flashes, the sound of the trumpet, and the mountain smoking; and when the people saw it, they trembled. . .
I went to see an orchestra playing, and this passage surged through my mind. Even advanced sound systems cannot compare to every instrument coming from it’s own unique location. The urgency of the music is amplified by half a dozen violin bows, in synchrony, jerking through the air. Tension in the sound is further emphasized by more than a dozen musicians preparing to play on the same note. The eye of the drummer is not fixed on his own drum, but rather fastened unwaveringly at the conductor, the drummer’s whole body poised to act. Parts of whole.
There is no background. There is no ignoring. The music must be heard. Not just heard, listened too.
This, from a community orchestra.
What, then, when the Son of God returns in all His glory?
Joy. Victory. Completion; resolution.
The voice of the angels, ten thousand times ten thousand, singing out.
“Blessing and honor and glory and power
Be to Him who sits on the throne,
And to the Lamb, forever and ever!”