For the First Church of the Holy Clique™

Sermon Title:

The Book of “Lord Pedal-Pusher”

Opening Prayer:

Lord, forgive us, for we have sinned in four part harmony. Bless this message, and may it reach the back pew before the offertory plate does. Amen.

The Reading:

From the Book of Lamentations, Chapter Karaoke:

“In those days there arose in the temple a man who sat on high. Not in the pulpit, but behind the pipes. He was called Lord Pedal-Pusher, for he believed the Holy Spirit entered through the volume knob.

And the people said, ‘Surely he plays unto the Lord.’

But the Lord replied, ‘I asked for worship, not a decibel war crime.’”

The Message:

Church, today we confront the spirit of performance without presence. Its prophet is Lord Pedal-Pusher, our organist.

He approaches the instrument like it owes him rent. Every hymn becomes his audition for a gig heaven didn’t book. The prelude is his, the postlude is his, and somehow the silent prayer gets a backbeat.

He glares when you sing off key, yet his compassion is permanently flat. He modulates keys mid verse just to watch the congregation drown. He thinks “fortissimo” is Latin for “fruit of the Spirit.”

Brothers and sisters, music is meant to usher us into God’s presence. Lord Pedal-Pusher uses it to usher us into his. He doesn’t accompany the church. He holds it hostage, one drawn out final chord at a time.

And let’s talk about his timing. He ends every song three measures after everyone else gave up. That isn’t a ritardando. That’s a power trip with reverb.

To the Youth Guard:

You who scatter like startled pigeons when someone new walks in, take note. Even Lord Pedal-Pusher knows how to stay seated. You can’t even hold a conversation for a whole verse.

To Reverend Serenity:

You preach about the Good Shepherd. Meanwhile Lord Pedal-Pusher plays Toccata and Fugue in D Minor every time someone cries during prayer. Read the room, and maybe the room will read your sermons.

Altar Call:

So today, we lay down our idols. Our pride, our pews, our need to be seen. And Lord Pedal-Pusher, we lay down your solo. The church didn’t come for your concert. We came for communion.

If the devil went down to Georgia, he left his organist here. But even he can be redeemed. Lord, teach him pianissimo. Teach him that the most holy sound is sometimes the space you leave for others.

Benediction:

May the Lord bless you and keep you.

May His face shine upon you, even if you can’t read sheet music.

May He give you peace, and may Lord Pedal-Pusher give us all a rest.

And please, someone save a seat that isn’t in his blast radius. Amen.