Crimson Harvest

Music began to play softly. He looked up and saw that a small group of musicians had gathered on the platform to one side. One was on the keyboard, two with guitars, one on drums, and one playing a flute (or something like it: Kevin had never learned the difference in those kinds of instruments). He sighed quietly and resolved that he would endure the service. The songs and the prayers were mostly lost on him. Even the skits that some of their young people performed, although amusing, still spoke to things that he could not quite comprehend, let alone appreciate. Faith as an essential ingredient to practical living left him out of his reckoning. “Trusting God? With everyday things?” he thought as they concluded one skit. “Seems pretty fanatical to me.”