I remember when I was much younger and I enjoyed listening to the radio at above average volumes. In my lifetime, "above average" has always been a good thing, and so it is with this lens that I choose to focus.

I can remember getting into trouble when my dad would start the car, and within a couple of seconds the enormity of sound would stress the factory speakers, and press into that enclosed space causing the windows to rumble. Distortion is a word that explains those moments. Both the sound and the physical reaction from my father.

He was a gentle loving man, but when introduced to unexpected attacks of sound waves, he got a little "distorted." I don't think I made that mistake more than once or twice. It's just that, there were times when the radio in my dad's stationary car was my only escape.

I think forgetting the minor detail of turning the volume back down and receiving the unexpected, has helped shape my attention to detail.

When my own children were younger, I remember having to go to them and "request" they
turn down their stereo. Of course, my request went unnoticed the first time as their is something about loud noises that dulls all of your other senses. I guess at that point I found it necessary to make a point. So in fun (for me, not them) I would lift my voice above their stereo's.

It is pretty amazing how hard it is to find the volume control on your own stereo when you are under the impression your world is coming to an abrupt end.

Honestly, that did not happen all that often, but I do remember having to intervene on a few occasions.

After BJ passed, I would go into his room (when no one was home) and turn on his stereo. He had speakers that were hard to stress. The level of sound became a visceral experience. Kind of like sitting at a stoplight in certain areas of town, when the pimp-mobile pulls up next to you, and the bass sub causes your insides to do involuntary gymnastics.

That is pretty loud. For brief moments, I felt a connection I cannot explain. My connection would enter into a worship experience. I was lifting praises to my Lord at volumes that would have embarrassed my children. Yet somehow, just letting go, and giving my unabashed all to the Lord was such a sweet experience.

Loud music is something Deanna and I have never really shared an affinity for. This could explain why I say "what?" a lot at this point in my life. I liked being at concerts and standing by the speakers. I couldn't hear for many hours afterwards...now I can't hear her when she's in the next room.

Imagine then, my surprise this morning as I gathered to spend some time with the Lord, turned on the worship cd (in that same stereo of BJ's) and leaned over to check the volume and it digitally shouted a number near 20! In case your not sure, that is very, very loud.

Guess what? It wasn't me. Oh yes, I had listened to music two nights ago, but set the volume around 5...a level where you can talk and listen at the same time.

I think somebody else in my family...lets see, I've been at work, and my daughters are in Indiana...must have been cranking up the volume, and letting the worship fly!

The secret is out. Someone pretends she doesn't like it loud, but I think a new phase of praise has escaped her lips...and if I'd been home, I think I might have needed to ask that it be turned down.

Let your praise and worship bring glory to the King of Kings!

dad