Disclaimer: The following is the result of an hyperactive imagination. Please read with caution, and don't rush as there are enough vitamins to be gleaned here. I am not presenting what is written as the absolute truth ... what the heck ... just read and be blessed.
My name is Silas and I am not a terrorist
Yeah I know my name resembles the kind you would normally associate with the harbingers of terror, I must however put my foot down and discourage any thoughts of such. So ignore my beard, slight middle- eastern accent and gaunt Arab look and listen to me.
First, I must thank the author of this book for the opportunity to tell my story. Some of you may know me, some of you may not. Mind you - this will be more captivating than the story of how bananas refused to grow in the Sahara (that is for another time)
The story that concerns us started the day I followed a nice man named Paul (Not Adefarasin, though he too is a very nice man) to Macedonia. You see, we were proselytes . And so it happened as it usually does with Paul that we were arrested for disturbing the peace.
Imagine being locked behind bars. Talk about pissing on my human rights. They didn't even offer us the "One Phone Call". We were citizens of Rome, in fact our passports indicated that we had dual-citizenship. But typical with jungle justice they ignored all that and threw us into the prison. I must stop here to tell you that this story happened many years before telephone and passports existed though –
Just enjoy the story. So there we were in a Macedonian cell. The stench from the other inmates and excreta that lined the walls was unbelievable. I looked at Paul and there he was calm as a zephyr on the eastern shores of Galilee. He didn't even seem to notice the putrid air that was already choking me Then he spoke ... hey Silas how about we sing some psalms...
Azzzzzzzin!!! Who does that? Sing while stuck in a filthy cell!!!! I was really not in the mood for music especially since I had heard Paul singing in the shower. It was awful but he sang nonetheless.
Thankfully he wasn't considering going for Greco- Jewish Idols. My voice was no better - we were evangelists not minstrels. Truly I was startled by Paul's calmness then I started to remember some of our discussions before we entered the city. “We must learn to speak to one another with psalms, hymns, and songs from the Spirit.
Do not neglect the art and science of singing and making music from your heart to the Lord, Situations change when we praise God. “
It dawned on me then. It was like I had a light bulb moment. We were created to praise God in spite of prevailing circumstances.
No matter how pernicious the peril appeared, praise remained our only potent response. I felt a song welling up in my spirit. Before you could say Gaius Julius Caesar Octavianus I had already burst out singing!!! We sang till our voices drowned out the hoot of owls that surrounded the jail. We sang till the inmates quieted their hollering. We sang till ... MIDNIGHT
We sang to the audience of ONE. And HE responded. He got up from His throne. In that instant, tremors swept from eternity to that location. The bars of the cell quivered, the chains vibrated. Yet we continued singing, we continued praying.
We were not singing because we wanted to be free ... we sang because no matter how steely the chains that held us bound ... we were already free.
Two men singing, the host of heaven listening. We knew that this was the victory that overcame the world because Faith always produces Praise (Heb 13:15). It was the communion of the Spirit, that rich well of Christ on the inside that burst forth in our singing.