Improvisation

You know it when you hear it. It’s cool. It’s soulful. It’s intense. Improvisation is an act of spontaneous composition and performance, and it lies at the very heart of great American jazz. You can hear it in jazz clubs all across the country, but if you want the really good stuff, you better go to the Village Vanguard in New York City.

The Vanguard doesn’t serve food, and they don’t take American Express – or any credit cards, for that matter. And yet, the club has survived in all its glory for over sixty years, and has featured the music of some of the greatest jazz musicians in the world. Wander in on a weekday evening, and who knows – you might be treated to a trumpet solo by a superstar such as Wynton Marsalis.

That’s exactly what happened to David Hajdu, a writer who stumbled into the Vanguard one Tuesday night and had an amazing experience (David Hajdu, “Wynton’s Blues,” The Atlantic Monthly, March 2003, 43-44). Wynton Marsalis, one of the truly exalted rulers of the jazz universe, was part of a small combo offering music that night. Their set started off in an unremarkable way, but then Marsalis stepped to the microphone to offer a solo called “I Don’t Stand a Ghost of a Chance With You.” It was a melancholy song, full of murmurs and sighs, and Marsalis performed it with deep feeling and expression. At the climax of the song, he played the final phrase in such a way that the trumpet seemed to give actual voice to the heartfelt words “I don't stand ... a ghost … of ... a ... chance ...” The audience sat in awe, listening in silence.

Then it happened. It the middle of that sacred silence, at the song’s most dramatic point, someone’s cell phone went off … it erupted in a chirping, sing-song electronic melody. At that moment, the spell was broken. People in the audience giggled, nervously, and turned their attention to their drinks.

Marsalis paused for a beat, and stood motionless. His eyebrows arched. The embarrassed cell-phone owner fled the scene, and the conversation in the club grew louder.

Wynton Marsalis could have stepped down at that moment and quit the gig, disgusted. After all, he is a king of jazz, and doesn’t need to perform in little clubs with rude cell-phone users. But he didn’t move. Instead, he put his lips to his trumpet and replayed the stupid cell-phone melody note for note. Then he played it again, and began improvising variations on the tune. The members of the audience stopped chatting and slowly began to fall under his spell again. He spontaneously changed keys once or twice and eased back down to a ballad tempo, and in just a few minutes he finished his improvisation and ended up exactly where he had left off: “I don’t stand … a ghost … of … a … chance … with … you …”

The ovation was tremendous.

Wynton Marsalis transformed a rude interruption into a moment of glory. He didn’t allow an unexpected shock to stun him or stop him or silence him, but instead he twisted this setback into a comeback. There’s a message in this for all of us, especially as it reminds us that our Lord does exactly the same thing for us every day. Our God is a master of Divine Improv.

In his letter to the Philippians, the apostle Paul calls the Christians of this Roman colony to follow his example, and in particular he invites them to “join in imitating me” (3:17). Now at first glance, this makes the apostle sound as though he is rather conceited, but remember – Paul sees himself first and foremost as an imitator of Jesus Christ (1 Corinthians 11:1). You could think of Paul as a first-century king of jazz, one who has learned his technique at the feet of the master who came before him. In this passage from Philippians, he is offering a private lesson to the Christians who will follow him, and he is inviting them to pick up their instruments and play along with him.

But what’s the name of Paul’s tune? Is he playing “I Don’t Stand a Ghost of a Chance”? Hardly. The song that the apostle is teaching is called “Transformation,” because it includes the lyrics, “He will transform the body of our humiliation that it may be conformed to the body of his glory” (v. 21).

Body of our humiliation. Body of his glory. It’s a tough tune to master, but in the hands of a king of jazz … it’s incredibly powerful.

Paul’s point is that God is playing divine improvisation through his Son Jesus Christ. Jesus came to earth in a perishable, physical body, one that died a humiliating death on a cross. But through the power of God, Christ was raised in a powerful, imperishable, body of glory. This transformation was not expected by anyone, nor was it a song that the ancient world was singing. Instead, it was a glorious example of Divine Improv.

You go, God!

The good news for us is that Jesus Christ, the risen and reigning Son of God, continues to play this transformation tune for our benefit. Jesus is at work in our lives to “transform the body of our humiliation” into “the body of his glory” (v. 21). This means that our undeserved jolts are transformed into unexpected joys. It means that painful interruptions can become moments of glory. It means that even death itself is not the end for us – in the hands of our master musician, death becomes the intro to everlasting life.

Truth is, God can work through Jesus Christ to improvise anything. He can turn adversity into triumph. Agony into empathy. Setbacks into comebacks. Our Lord presents no one with a perfect life on the day of birth, but he does promise to be with each of us through the sufferings we are bound to face, and he is at work in every one of us to turn our body of humiliation into a body of glory.

In a recent visit with a church member, I heard about the many difficulties that this man had experienced in dealing with a chronic illness. But in spite of these terrible trials, he had discovered that God had used his illness to make him much more empathetic toward his fellow sufferers. God had transformed his agony into empathy.

As I think back on my college career, I remember how crushing it was to fail a college course in Organic Chemistry. I had assumed that I should be a scientist, since that is what my father had been, and it’s what I had always enjoyed in high school. But as I pondered whether I should plunge back into the chemistry lab and give it another try, I discovered that what I really loved was religious studies. That’s where my passion was, and where I really felt led by God. I changed my course at that point, and have never looked back. God transformed a dead end into new path.

Have you heard the story of Jonathan Daniels? He was a young white man who grew up in New Hampshire and graduated from the Virginia Military Institute in 1961. He became a civil rights activist, and was killed at the age of 26 by a shotgun blast from a small_town Alabama deputy sheriff. The shot was meant for a young black woman, but Daniels stepped in front of her and saved her life.

On March the 19th, Daniels’ selfless act of bravery will be the subject of a world premiere concert by the Reston Chorale. The young woman he saved now lives in Washington, DC, and she describes Daniels as "one of these rare people who had an incredible vision of what the world could be and who had to be part of the change." His death, she said, has inspired her to ask throughout her life, "What is the work I was saved to do and how do I do it?"

God is truly a master musician. More creative than Wynton Marsalis, who can change cell phone interruptions into standing ovations. God can work through Jesus Christ to improvise anything. He can turn adversity into triumph. Agony into empathy. Setbacks into comebacks. Dead ends into new paths. When the tune called “Transformation” is being played, God can even turn a young man’s death into a positive change in the world.

The challenge for us is to let ourselves be transformed as the Lord plays his Divine Improvisation. I have heard a story of a women’s Bible study group that was focusing on the book of Malachi, in particular the verse, “he will sit as a refiner and purifier of silver" (3:3). The women wondered what this statement meant about the character and nature of God, so one member actually went out to watch a silversmith engage in his work. v The silversmith held a piece of silver over the fire and let it heat up, and he explained that in refining silver, one needed to hold the silver in the middle of the fire where the flames were hottest in order to burn away all the impurities. He went on to explain that he had to keep his eyes on the silver the entire time it was in the fire. If the silver was left a moment too long, it would be destroyed.

The woman was silent for a moment. Then she asked the silversmith, "How do you know when the silver is fully refined?" He smiled and answered, "Oh, that's easy -- when I see my image in it."

Our Lord can change us in the course of his performance, burning away our impurities and refining us until he can see his own image in us. It’s all about making us stronger and purer, and turning the body of our humiliation into the body of his glory.

The tune is “Transformation.” And it’s played best through Divine Improvisation. Amen.

 

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