Stand Up, Stand Up for Jesus

I'm a big fan of juxtaposition, especially in music. Two unlike things forced together causing the observer to re-evaluate the meaning of both. Like the harpsichord solo in In My Life. It pulls us out of the ballad at exactly the right moment to save the track from becoming overly saccharine. And yet, the poetry on either side of it elevates the harpsichord's sound to something more than just silliness.

When I compose, I frequently use juxtaposition- taking a hymn tune out of its more normal context and forcing it into a different aesthetic. The goal, of course, is to change the way the listener feels about the text itself. My college choir director used to say, "When you say something differently, you've said something different..." and I truly believe those are some of the wisest words I've ever heard.

To that end, I wrote an arrangement of Stand Up, Stand Up for Jesus a few years ago that was published through Lorenz. But instead of the usual boisterous march we've come to expect from that hymn, it's more of a sober reflection; and I find that especially appropriate in the current cultural moment. As a very particular slice of Christendom moves us farther and farther away from what I believe to be God's desire for humanity, celebrating each misguided step away from love, inclusion, and charity as "greatness," the words of Stand Up, Stand Up for Jesus fall differently. It is no longer a rousing march on the way to victory. Rather, it is a desperate and tear-stained plea for the people of God to stand up and take back the mantle of "Christian" from those who would use it to justify hate, bigotry, and greed. And so, in quiet prayer:

Stand up, stand up for Jesus,

ye soldiers of the cross;

lift high His royal banner,

it must not suffer loss.

From vict'ry unto vict'ry

His army shall He lead,

till ev'ry foe is vanquished,

and Christ is Lord indeed.

When you say something differently, you've said something different.