The Rusted Musket

I was listening to a student today despair over how one of her favorite Hillsong worship tunes was treated during chapel.  Boredom lurked behind tired eyes as knees sagged during the youth bands heart fought not so good rendition of the song.  She dreamed me back to a time at convention when this particular worship song brought about displays of hand raising and worship and mosh pit.  I felt like saying display doesn”t equal devotion but when my chance came to speak I fell silent.  I felt she might have been to moody at the moment to appreciate my quip about devotion not being measured by the height of the jump, rather, the straightness of walk when you land.