He stood in the midst of a crowd, fellow concert goers who were all piling into the baseball diamond. Armed with lawn chairs, snacks, picnics, blankets, and eagerly talking to those around them, many did not notice him. His purple t-shirt really didn’t make too much of a color splash in such a crowd. He didn’t have many surrounding him and talking to him. He didn’t even have a lawn chair to lean back in and enjoy the splash of the late summer sun. He stood in the field with a long thin box.
The music started and from the box, he drew out a white flag. With such earnestness and seriousness on his face, he waved the flag in time to the music. Other clapped, some swayed from side to side, and he waved the flag. The music changed, a different song, a new mood and a new flag. This one was purple.
He didn’t look around to see the reactions of others. He didn’t ask if others thought it odd that he was waving a flag of white or a flag of purple. He didn’t seem to care what they thought. He kept it up all evening. He celebrated the joy in the songs, beauty of the lyrics and instruments, the worship of God with flags. He was worshipping and it was beautiful.