The Ostinato

A cycle continues if it is not broken

In music, an ostinato (Italian: [ostiˈnaːto]; derived from Italian word for stubborn, compare English obstinate) is a motif or phrase that persistently repeats in the same musical voice, frequently in the same pitch. Wikipedia

The Temple Move - 1985 - Age 6

I was six years old. My brother was four. My parents were eager to find a church home closer to our residence. We had been traversing an hour each way to attend ‘the temple’ they had settled in when they first married. 

We had spent time visiting local congregations under the same denominational banner and had settled on a church where they had friends with other children our age attending.

Our first decade in this new church was fruitful and blessed. Friendships were established. Our world revolved around our belief and our community. I watched my parents serve faithfully, with joy. I developed my own unique walk with Jesus and was mentored by dedicated, loyal, God-loving leaders. 

My church world began to unravel when I was a young girl, not quite into my teenage years. A new cleric replaced an exiting, long-term retiring shepherd to oversee the church. This pastor was distinct from the one who had faithfully guided our flock over the previous decade. He was controlling, quick to anger and manipulative with finances and people. I saw glimpses of this as a young person, and I discerned the member's anxiety around him. It was as though everyone had begun walking on eggshells.

Deep, long-term friendships were everything to me. My relationship with my Saviour was honest and passionate. I attended a public school and was often bullied. Teased for being a “good girl” who would never swear or disobey her parents. I was steadfast. As I reached high school, I found safe friends and focused my energies on the next youth event or Bible study. Church was my world. School was a place I waded through, just waiting for the next ministry event where I could escape to safety with lifelong, genuine, God-loving friends. 

In my early teens, my church world imploded. My parents shielded me as much as they could. But losing my safe space at a pivotal time in my formative years was damaging. My father had been serving on the church eldership at the time, and they had acknowledged that this pastor was harming the flock. The board requested the minister to resign. He didn't. Our church split to pieces, and many injured sheep departed to uncover new communities, some quitting church altogether. Countless flock moved together as a pack, and found a new church home. Friendships were retained, and even the camping ministry we had all poured our hearts into, was re-established at the church we all settled in. It was a blip for me. A hop to another safer community with a good, gentle pastor, and many of my old friends.

I continued passionately serving the Lord but noticed a shift in my parent’s spiritual personalities throughout this time. A wall of protection between them and church. A subtle transition. A less public outplaying of their internal Christian world. 

The Ostinato - 1992 - 12 years old

The church auditorium is hushed. It is 1992. I am 12 years old, and I am waiting for my parents in the dimly lit space. They are in a meeting with the pastor. I’m fearful of him. He is quick to anger, and doesn’t respond well to humour. I’ve been observing the leaders I admire being reprimanded in front of others. They were only joking. Lighthearted humour. But he didn’t laugh…

It feels so different in this space when it is empty. Hollow. A vacant edifice. No life.

I’m playing the church keyboard. Practising an ostinato my piano teacher assigned at my earlier music lesson. I have quiet dreams of joining the church music team. I love worship. I don’t particularly appreciate practising scales…

I turn my attention to a new church song released by Geoff Bullock, ‘The Power of Your Love’. I had commenced learning this with my piano teacher at the conclusion of my last lesson. I loved the chord progression - ‘by the E7 pow'r of Your D/A love A, E/G#, F#m7, E. Hope soared as I continued practising the progression from the verse to the chorus. Over and over again. Ostinato… I quietly desired someone from the music team might enter the auditorium while I was playing and notice my passion for worship. Once I conquered the complex progression, I moved to the chorus.

Hold me close
Let Your love surround me
Bring me near
Draw me to Your side
And as I wait
I'll rise up like the eagle
And I will soar with You
Your Spirit leads me on
In the power of Your love

I closed my eyes, as my fingers struck the plastic keys on the Korg O1W. Passion for my Saviour ignited as I worshipped Him.

The Transfer - 1995 - 16 Years old

I was ready! I’d saved my measly income over a couple of years working at the local Christian Bookstore. I’d been playing semi-regularly in the church band at our new safe church. I desired my own keyboard; it was the next step in my musical journey.

The church we had previously run away from had collapsed after we all left. Another church purchased the building, and the new pastor told us they wanted to sell the church keyboard. The one I had practised my very first worship songs on in that quiet, empty auditorium. The Korg O1W. It was meant to be.

My parents drove me to the memory-filled building. Walking into the space I’d lived out so much of my younger years felt bittersweet. Remembrances crashed in, beautiful moments in my life. Events that shaped me.

—- In the church carpark, leaning into my parent’s car, tuning the radio into the launch of the very first local Christian Radio station as it debuted.

— On parade at Rangers, in front of everyone, raising my right hand and reciting the pledge. “With God’s help, I will do my best to serve God, my church and my fellow man…”

— As a junior leader, instructing the younger children in the tiny back room about loyalty and honour and assessing their recollection of the Ranger code: ‘Loyal: faithful to church, family, outpost and friends. Obedient: Obeys parents, leaders and those in authority…’

— Performing on the stage with my father at a church talent quest, singing “There’s a hole in the bucket” while he played the guitar. The pastor didn’t think our performance was spiritual enough, but my dad said it was a holy bucket…

As I entered the auditorium, more memories started flooding back: the keyboard I had practiced on years prior, with a deep desire to use my musical gift for God’s glory. It was now going to be mine. This instrument where my worship ministry journey began. The Korg O1W.

That keyboard went everywhere with me. I worshipped Jesus through the notes I played on the keys. My heart was full.

The Auditions - 2008 - 28 years old

For three years, we had been serving at our new church. My music classroom was the church auditorium. My Korg 01W served as a church keyboard. Sometimes I played it. Sometimes HE played it. I was a music teacher at the school, and I was teaching HIS children music. Melody and Harmony were at the core of my existence. So why did I feel I was auditioning every time I played for church?

My Pastor was a seasoned musician. His whole family were melodious. His extended family were famous for the musicianship and singing. When HE was playing the keyboard, HE governed it. He ruled the music team with an iron fist. And we accepted this. HE was the Master. This was HIS domain. When team members were admonished, we closed our eyes and looked away, quietly thankful it wasn’t us this time.

Every time I played, I felt judged. It was subtle. A different chord structure expected, a ‘better’ sound selection… Judgement was expected, and praise was rarely given. Sometimes a team member would receive a public verbal bashing. We would cower.

When I discontinued teaching music at the school, in order to move on to my photography career, I gave up music altogether. I could no longer shoulder the pressure from HIM to perform. I donated the Korg O1W to the church, and walked away from it all. I stopped playing the piano at home. Musical creativity was absent. I focused on the photo world, a dimension HE didn’t shine in and couldn’t steal from me.

The Wall - 2012 - 32 years old

As I shut out the pain, and raised the protective barrier after being decimated by my pastor for 7 years as a young elder and leader, I recognised I was staring into a mirror. I had observed my parents crushed by a wolf, their church world implode, and their protective shield expanded to keep out further invasions.

I acknowledged the safeguard I had erected was guarding me from a full and authentic relationship with my Saviour. As my children continued to grow up, my barricade remained. I was conscious it existed. And I could see the repeat pattern. But I didn’t know how to fix it.

• I felt uncomfortable reading the Bible in front of my family

• I felt uncomfortable praying out loud with my family

• I felt uncomfortable releasing myself in worship at church

• I felt uncomfortable showing emotion

• I felt uncomfortable sharing biblical principles with my children

• I felt uncomfortable proclaiming the name of Jesus, and modified my vocabulary to ‘the Lord’ and ‘God’.

This barricade existed partly due to cPTSD from manipulative abuse I had experienced regularly from my Pastor. But the barrier also existed because of HIS example. As I look back now, I recognise HIS extreme lack of a personal acknowledgement of Jesus Christ as His Saviour. As I look at emails and teachings from HIM, I see a void of the name of Jesus, in preference for ‘god’ or the lord’. While we were taught to say “In Jesus Name” at the end of our prayers, the only references I can find to Jesus’s name is in those closing prayers and in recitations from the Bible (which were few and far between).

My heart aches for lost time with Jesus my Saviour. No more. He is my everything.

The Return - 2022 - 43 years old

I was sitting at the livestream desk in the church auditorium during the week, and HE walked past me carrying the Korg O1W…

I asked HIM, “Is that being used?”. He responded, “No, I’m going to put it in storage.”.

“Could I have it back? My daughter would love to play on it; she’s shown an interest”. I meekly questioned… Indian-giving was not kindly looked upon.

Thankfully HE agreed to the return of my donation, an ancient keyboard that held many memories. I took it home and gave it to my daughter who began teaching herself piano.

The Redemption - November 2023 - 44 years old

Last night (present day), some of our Jesus-loving, kind-hearted former music team hosted a worship night at their home. The house was packed with exiled survivors and friends of the worship leaders.

My 12-year-old daughter and I attended, eager to enter into Worship. We’d both missed this. We missed them. The drummer, the pianist, the guitarist, the singers. True worshippers who had been used and abused by HIM, but continued to carry a fire and light with them everywhere they went.

Ever since HE, the pastor, was asked to step down by the brave Executive Pastor six months prior, there had been freedom. There had been heartache too. But I was free. That first service we had, after all was said and done, was a life-changing moment for me. I worshipped my Saviour in spirit and in truth. I held nothing back. I cried, I sang, I prayed. He was with me. I was free.

The wall that I didn’t know how to move, was decimated. The moment HE had been informed of HIS abuse and asked to step down, was pivotal. That juncture broke a hold, a manipulative control that HE had on me for 18 years. I’ve been free since that instant.

As we worshipped Jesus together. My daughter by my side, I marvelled. Her praise was sweet and pure. Her heart reflects His glory. She desires Him. These people, these worshippers around her, leading in this moment, have encouraged this gift in her. She’s been able to bypass the danger of HIM, and sink deep into the saving grace of her Jesus.

We prayed together: I for her, her for me. She prayed for others. My daughter found a bible verse that spoke to her, and she read it out in a room full of adults. 12-years-old, and full of faith.

Her future is now freedom from the bondage that we had been under. Captivity is not her tomorrow. A pure and honest relationship with her Saviour will be her destiny.

The cycle is broken