Dear Friend,

 In the fall of 1973, I enrolled at Appalachian State University in Boone, North Carolina, as a Music Education major. But performance was my passion.

I played a euphonium (4-valved baritone horn) in the University Wind Ensemble and eventually became a soloist. I also loved playing in the Brass Ensemble (only brass instruments, with timpani). I played the trombone also, primarily in the Jazz Ensemble, with a short stint in the University Orchestra. I loved musical performances and, to prepare, I spent hundreds of hours in a small 4 x 10' practice room perfecting my craft. Loved every minute of it. Couldn't get enough of it. Ate, slept, and drank it. Little else mattered.

The summer before I enrolled, I was blessed to tour Europe for three weeks with the USA School Band and Chorus, and in the next two summers, Canada (and the US) and Hawaii, respectively, with the same (no longer active) organization. We had some excellent conductors, among them Dr. Raymond Young, and the famous arranger and composer, Dr. Paul Yoder, of whose musical doctorate his wife Rosey quipped, "He's not the kind of doctor that can help you."

These trips were awesome. The exotic cities: Amsterdam, Gouda, Cologne, Paris, Florence, Milan, Geneva, Innsbruck. The foreigners, who were all speaking fast and freely in "tongues" - and not interpreting! The palatial concert halls, especially in Europe - many with gorgeous tapestries lining their walls. The outdoor venues - the outdoor 'pit' at Rockefeller Center, NYC, the Royal Hawaiian on Waikiki Beach, and many others. The lavish and "well-watered" receptions - at which we young and foolish musicians too often took our "inspiration" from the old wine rather than the new (and suffered for it the next morning)! Busing our way through the tulip fields in Netherlands, the rolling countryside in Germany, and the alps in France, Austria, and Italy. Flying from one Hawaiian Island to another, and another, all covered with lush flora that would make Eden envious.

I remember one concert where we played, among more serious pieces, the theme to "Mission Impossible" and a medley of hits by Chicago in an outdoor amphitheater overlooking the river opposite Parliament Hill in Ottawa. Other concerts in grand, broad piazza's in Italy. One in Munich in the Marienplatz Square right under the famous Glockenspiel (and too near a beer hall where, again, we had a reception, of which I have nothing further to say, except that all this was B.C. in my life). It was a heady time for this young man.

Then followed my studies at ASU, and some more great times with music majors, my fellow performers, some great conductors (Dr. Gerald Welker), and the concerts, ah, the concerts! They were always special occasions, when we shared with the public what we perfected during many rehearsals. My sophomore year, the Wind Ensemble Spring Tour enabled us to perform in a number of high schools in North Carolina and two universities in North Carolina and Georgia. On the tour, I was a soloist, performing "Napoli" on my Euphonium with the Ensemble's excellent accompaniment. I still remember so many of my fellow music majors. Love them. Respect them for their dedication and our shared passion for good music. Still communicate with some of them occasionally. And if I try hard enough, I can strain this 67-year-old cerebrum enough to remember the crowds. They were often so enthusiastic.

In Europe, only twenty-something years removed from V-E day, multiple times the crowds stood, clapped, and cheered wildly as we played "The Stars and Stripes Forever," with our (USA School Band & Chorus's) piccolos wailing away in front of the stage. They knew good music. They knew good performance. They appreciated every measure of music we played, especially famous symphonic pieces that had been arranged for concert bands. Our concerts lasted about an hour - but the people would have stayed days, if they had their way. All memories now. All gone. Long ago and far away.

But I believe the Holy Spirit has enabled me to channel these interesting but unspiritual past experiences into a fascinating and spiritual equivalent in Christ. It is this: today I sing and play, raise my hands, lower my head, and sometimes shout, all for an audience of One. Only One. And no other. Unto Him one day shall be the gathering of the people - with all their private and public worship. It is our Lord, Jesus, of whom I write. He alone is worthy of our worship.

This past Lord's Day morning, just before our church began praise and worship, I told those gathered: "This morning we are giving a concert. This place is the concert hall. We are on stage. An auditorium filled with seats are before us. But this is an exceptional concert: there is only one Person seated before us, listening intently to the spirit, lyrics, passion, truthfulness, and joy of our praise and worship offerings. It is Jesus. Sing to Him. Sing with only Him on your mind. Sing for His joy, His delight. And for no other person or purpose. Maintain this mindset until we finish singing the last note of the last hymn or contemporary worship song." This is sacred music in its most sacred form - a vocal sacrifice offered to the Lamb of God.

The apostle John has called us to this. His Revelation foretells the day all creation will sing for and to the Lamb alone: "And they sung a new song, saying, thou art worthy . . . and I beheld, and I heard the voice of many angels round about the throne and the beasts and the elders . . . saying with a loud voice, Worthy is the Lamb" (Revelation 5:9-12).

No Dove Awards will be given for such "performances." Nor Gospel, Grammy, or CMA awards. No American Idol scouts will hear and summon us to Nashville glory. No recording companies will hope to sign us to lucrative contracts. No, none of that worldly stuff. Only one otherworldly Person, stage, and concert. Such is the nature of worship rendered for an audience of One.

And that One is waiting for you to take your "stage" - your bedroom floor, your kitchen nook, your basement rec room, your "secret place" of seeking Him wherever that is. Or, when gathered with other true worshipers, your church sanctuary, fellowship hall, or cathedral. Or, if yours is an atypical church (as ours is, and millions of others), your living room, your store front, your converted factory, your barn, outdoor shed - or under a substantial tree!

There, take the stage. Be seated (or stand if you prefer). Get other things off your mind and Christ on it. Forgive offenders. Yield your entire being to the mighty, worship-teaching, worship-leading Holy Spirit. Jesus put Him in charge when He left, so put Him in charge of your gatherings. Then sing and play your way through your song list, with all your heart, mind, and strength . . . for an audience of One.

He knows good music - inspired God-songs - and that which is overtly worldly in nature, and thus offensive to Him. He knows when worship is rendered "in spirit and in truth" (John 4:23-24) - and when it is rendered from the flesh and in falsehood. He knows all our life works, whether they honor or dishonor Him: "I know thy works" (Revelation 2:2). He remembers V-C Day (His victory at the cross), where He poured out blood and water to save and sanctify us, and usher us into a life of loving union with Him. When He hears true worship being rendered from humble, blood-washed, broken hearts, and from not partly but fully obedient lives, He is thrilled - and may stand, clap, and shout exuberantly at the Father's right hand from time to time for pure joy.

So blessed is He by such rare worship that He could remain in your personal or church "concert hall" for hours, temporarily suspending His acts to "inhabit the praises of his people" (see Psalm 22:3), sitting in rapturous delight, just listening, receiving, soaking, glowing, as you offer your praise and worship ... for an audience of One.

Praising, worshiping . . . for One,

Greg Hinnant
Greg Hinnant Ministries