T’was the night before pageant

T’was the night before pageant

T’was the night before pageant

and all through the church.

The praise team was singing, the building a-lurch.

Christmas lights hung on the organ with care.

In hopes that a pedal “C” would not make them flare.

The pastor all snug on his favorite front chair,

with the sounds of the praise band and guitars all a-blare.

When what to my wondering ears should a-hear

but 60 hertz hum – the soundman’s worst fear.

I zipped down to the sound booth

to see what was awry,

the scene was enough

to make a grown man cry.

The ‘Sennheisers’ cooked,

the ‘Aviom’s’ fried –

the ‘blue screen of death’ on the monitor beside.

It seems that the suppressor,

suppressed not enough.

The techie all pallid,

no look of a bluff.

“On switches, plug boxes,

hook-up to my laptop.

Quick fixes, Try ‘auxes’,

ohh this sounds like a hack-job.”

From the ‘Countryman’ mic, to the tiniest ear-bud

all dashed away, smashed away, crashed away all.

Then a sight that seemed so strange yet appealing.

The sight of the cross, shadowed up to the ceiling.

The voice of the Savior as calm as The Babe,

rolled over my being like a warm and soft wave.

Remember in all that you do, hear and see.

Please come, my servant; come sing to me.

Your worship is what your good King desires

Come to me, I am a consuming hot fire.

Reminded I was in the heat of the moment.

To be less of a leader, and more of a servant.

And before this season rolls well out of sight,

Merry Christmas to you, and to you a good night.

You can hear a reading of this poem and more on the December edition of MoWorship. www.mobaptist.org/worship. (John Francis is the worship specialist for the Missouri Baptist Convention and produces MoWorship, a monthly worship podcast available at www.mobaptist.org/worship.)