Falling on deaf ears? (By BRUCE REDMAN)

Hello, my name’s Bruce and I’m a bandsman. It’s been 15 years, two months, three days and four hours since I last played and I have to admit I still struggle daily. I tried to give it away and failed miserably but when I realised the damage it was doing, to me and my family, I gave it up for good. Never been back …

OK, maybe it’s not that bad, but many of us “recovering bandsmen” (thanks Geoff Ryan for the term) have realized that although Army banding is admirable and sometimes rewarding, when it comes to real Christian service, banding is merely “tinkling brass and a crashing cymbal.” The Army band rouses the yellow, red and blue blood in our veins, majestically pointing to the creator. That’s a given. But the way many of us “misspent” our youth and much of our church lives, distracted by something that peripherally assists our worship, is a bit pathetic. I attended a corps where the band was the centre of the universe. Band engagements and rehearsals determined weekly schedules. An unofficial “band barometer” indicated the corps’ general health. If you weren’t “blowing,” you were pretty much worthless in many comrades’ eyes.

God didn’t raise us to entertain. Military outfits’ bands lead them into battle, maintain morale and assist with ceremonies; but soldiers don’t lay down rifles to pick up cornets. Bands are an integral part of our past. Our brass abilities are respected, but somewhere along the way, the tail started wagging the dog.

As a divisional youth bandmaster I took my band on an interstate tour. We spent a year fundraising and practising our little hearts out to present a concert and Sunday meetings.We sincerely desired to “touch people” and “remind them of God’s claim on their lives.” At one open-air meeting, a man was attracted by our music, followed us back to the hall and went forward to commit his life to Christ. We rejoiced and patted ourselves on the back for playing so well.

I was later introduced to him and was pleased to learn he was still happily attending the corps. I was keen to talk about his story, and how our band’s sonorous tones had done the trick. It was difficult to communicate, though, because he was in fact stone deaf. That discovery was disappointing but became a big lesson for a young aspiring band freak to learn.

As a recovering bandsman I sometimes listen to brilliant Army Band CDs (hidden in a bottom drawer, of course) and I remember, fondly, band trips and endless nights of slogging it out on Call of the Righteous or The Kingdom Triumphant.

But there’s also a deep sadness. So many able-bodied people, for so many years, spending so much time flexing their embouchure instead of spiritual muscle; telling themselves they were sacrificially doing something to extend God’s kingdom. Who are we kidding?