If you’re from Good Shepherd, you would have been so proud of Chris Macedo for what he did in Russia.
On the second night of the English Exchange camp, just after a “mock” wedding ceremony (no lie), Chris put on an MTV Unplugged-style concert for the 35 American volunteers and 65 Russian students who were there. Chris was on guitar and he was accompanied by one other guitarist and a bongo player.
Though the music was acoustic, the set was electric. With his voice in fine form, Chris played and sang:
- “Got Rhythm” by Johnny Cash;
- “Apologize” by Timbaland;
- “Beautiful Day” by U2;
- “Another Day In Paradise” by Phil Collins;
- “Meant To Live” by Switchfoot;
- “One Love” by Bob Marley
- “What I’ve Done” by Linkin Park;
- and many others
And the Russian students knew every word to every song. Most veterans of the Exchange agreed that it was the best night in the history of the program.
Two teens sitting next to me recorded the entire show on their cell phones. Who knew such a thing was possible? People under 30 did, I suppose. But those students were touched in a profound way by each song.
But the best moment happened with my new friend Sergey, a 23 year old lawyer & rap show producer (again, no lie) from Moscow. Sergey was sitting next to me throughout the whole show.
When Chris began to sing “What I’ve Done,” which is a Linkin Park song dealing with sin, mercy, and forgiveness, Sergey turned to me and showed me his arm. “Look,” he said. “My arm.” So I looked. The arm was filled with goosebumps and the hair was standing straight up. Sergey had heard the song on the radio many times, but the concert that night was the first time he’d heard it with a spiritual twist. And it got to him.
That’s why we do those kinds of songs, not just in Russia, but in Charlotte. They form the cry of a generation of people yearning for spiritual truth. The music connects with them, gives them chills, and then they can much better hear what we have to say when we give a name to that spiritual truth.
Sergey in Russia is why we do what we do in Charlotte.
“Look . . . my arm.”