Shattered Pretension

It was raining today, and my office work was finished. So I thought i would spend a little time time jotting down a few thoughts. The rain cascading down was inspiring and a healthy alternative to silence. Playing on computer was some absolutely gorgeous worship music. The musicians were: David Crowder, Jars of Clay, Delirious?, and Chris Rice. I hope you enjoy my thoughts.

I love listening to music. I love a good song that I can sing along with. I love to sing music too. In my mind there is nothing that sounds better to my ears, and nothing that stirs the emotions in my heart, than a well written, well performed, well harmonized piece of music; sometimes it is simply the voice of the singer that captivates my attention.. Sometimes I hear a song that I wish would never end just because of the magical harmonies and spiritual melodies. Music—the Sound of Music—stirs the heart and speaks with a voice that barely needs to be uttered. I used to think that the louder the music the better because I wanted the music to drown out all the crap that surrounded my pitiful, pathetic existence. Now I want the music to be just right--Goldilocks like--not too loud, not too soft. I want it to be balanced well so that I can distinguish notes, instruments, and voice inflection. I want to hear harmonies and melodies, crescendos, staccatos, the flats and sharps, and all sorts of musical intonations.

Sometimes I find a song that I so enjoy that I put it on repeat and listen to it over and over again without growing weary or bored of its sounds and inflections. (I never yawn when I am listening; yawning is commonplace when I am watching.) There is something beautiful about the way voices blend and separate. There is something divine about the way an instrument barely heard carries a song and that without its presence the song would surely fall to pieces. Music is not something that is written on paper, as if those little black splotches were music. No. Music lives in the heart and rises on the wind. Music breathes and rests; it runs and walks; it speaks in multiple layers. Music is not meant to be heard; it is meant to be listened to. The Liner notes to The David Crowder Band's CD Can You Here Us? sums it up nicely: "...our prayer is that be more than a collection of songs in a pleasant digital format, but extensions of lives lived for Him."

Music is created and lives in the imagination of the heart. Who knows how many unique songs exist in the hearts of people yet set free? Can there be a number attached to such an idea? I think not. If Solomon said that of the writing of books there is no end, I think we can apply that equally truly to the writing of music. Music knows no bounds and frequents all the crevices and cracks of the world. Everyone has a song to sing, some just yet don't know all the notes. I confess that for a long time I did not know the notes and that it was only in Christ that the score became clear and understandable. Suddenly, the music made sense. The chorus to Crowder's song You're Everything goes along this way, "To raise me up from this grave, touch my tongue and then I'll sing, Heal my limbs then joyfully I'll run to you." Not only did Christ teach me the music, not only did He write the score, He also taught me to sing.

I have grown a lot since I was first introduced to music. Of course I needed to grow. But I confess: I am a lot more and less selective about my listening choices now than I was in the past. Then there were only two styles I liked: loud and louder. Now, I appreciate all sorts of music, because I have learned that all music has some value--from classical to opera to jazz to blues to country (selective country) to classic rock to some modern praise music to the old classics in the dusty hymnbooks that line the backs of the pews in most houses of worship (I still cannot listen to R & B, Rap, most country, and most Pop—although, I still try to tolerate it for the sake of my sons who find that sort of music rather appealing—oh, the boys and I watched a Biography video of Ella Fitzgerald the other day, now she understood music!). Only the truly ignorant do away with the hymnbook. I still, to this day, can barely get through How Great Thou Art without my eyes welling up in tears like an oil well about to burst--I always shed tears when we sing this song in worship of God. But who wouldn’t? "And when I think, of God His Son not sparing. Sent Him to die, I scarce can take it in." Who doesn't find that absolutely devastating? Music, thus, is no longer merely a way to avoid responsibility or reality. Music is an opportunity, created out of someone else’s imagination, for the senses to be awakened to the brighter (sometimes darker) realities all about us. Music awakens us to life. It sparks the senses and rattles the soul. Music breaks down pretension and shatters illusion. Music brings us all to a common place. But, music has to appeal to something more than the baseness of our existence, and music that does not is not likely to endure for any significant period of time. This is why I expanded my listening choices. As I matured, I found that the music that simply awakened my libido or my anger or my rage was worthless music, but the music that awakened my heart and soul and eyes and ears and, indeed, all my senses, to the beauties and wonders of life is worth my time to listen to and worth the money I spend to own it. Music that does nothing more than pander to the lust of my eyes, the lust of others' flesh and the pride of life is worthless. Music that stirs the heart and soul to a fresh, childlike wonder and awe is priceless. I think in my heart that if someone were to give me the awful choice: blindness or deafness, I would have to choose the former. I could live without seeing the horror and misery of this world; but I could not live without hearing it.

I like a song by the David Crowder Band: I Need Words. It is a prayer that opens up the CD Can You Hear Us Now? It is beautiful because it speaks to the need all musicians have: the need of words that come not from within, but from above, words that are bigger than the feeling inside, words that speak to more than the flesh, words that speak to more than passions of unrighteousness. He also says, rightfully, that once the words have been given, he needs a voice to sing the words, that is, to make music. Why? Because true music cannot even be hummed apart from the power of the Spirit of God. If God gives us music, God must give us a voice to make music too, to express it in harmony and melody. The song expresses the musicians’ deep desire to sing about something lasting, something that matters, something that is packed with meaning (as opposed to something that is empty and meaningless apart from the flesh), and something that stirs up the soul and heart and not flesh. When I was young I would say, “I don’t even listen to the lyrics. I just like the music.” Now that I am older I realize how utterly absurd such a statement is. The two cannot be separated when they are in the same place. Furthermore, you know all those lyrics I did not listen to? I still have them memorized and sing them when they play across my radio. Scary. All those years I spent imbibing the sweet nectar of instability and irrationality from musicians who were themselves unstable and irrational were essentially wasted. I could have been memorizing songs that did not pander to my baseness. I could have been n memorizing lyrics that aroused reverence and awe and wonder and joy. I think it matters greatly what we commit to memory; and, to be sure, I have committed to memory quite a bit of slop that I wish I could erase with the click of the delete button. I honestly believe that one of the reasons I have had to spend so many of my earthly days in gloom and sadness is because of what I have allowed to pass through my ears and eyes into my mind and heart. (Someone said, "The eye is the lamp of the body. If the eye is dark, how great is teh darkness inside.") One can only hear so many songs about suicide before one concludes that it is a viable alternative to the brisk insanity and horror that is all around us. Most children will disagree with that assessment, but I think most adults will agree.

Why am I rambling on an on about this? Everyone has their own musical tastes and probably no two people enjoy exactly the same styles. Well, I am listening to some music today and it is stirring my soul. Furthermore, I will lead the worship in a couple of days. I have come to a point in my life where I actually enjoy leading worship as much as I enjoy preaching. Singing has become such an integral part of my life that scarcely a moment goes by in my day when my heart, soul or mouth is not engage in some sort of melodic expression of praise or thanksgiving. I find it impossible to escape from the music that surrounds us. I hear music everywhere: the rain that beats down on the roof of the church building, in the crickets that sing at night, in the locusts that scream, in the birds that whistle, in the snakes that rattle, in the dog that barks, in the wind that howls, in the waves that crash on the beach, in the leaves that applaud, in the thunder that claps and in the lightning that streaks across the sky. I hear music in the voice of my wife when she talks to me in that goofy, shmoopy sort of voice. I hear music in the laughter of my sons. What a wonder children are to the ears and heart! What a silent, sad world this would be without the voices of children to shred our defenses, tear down our walls, strip us of pretense, destroy our propriety, and bring delight where there where there is despair, light to where there is darkness, and smiles where there are only tears. Woe to those who silence the music made by children. Woe to those who silence the screams and tears and 'stupidity' of children. I heard it said, "Woe to those who cause these little ones to stumble." Yes, woe...

There is another reason why I am thinking of this today. That is simply this: Music will be carried with us when we leave this place. I am not saying music is somehow eternal, only that there are some special songs prepared by God for those who will listen. Something we can be certain of in the book of Revelation is that those who are Sealed in Christ will learn a new song: “And they sang a new song before the throne and before the four living creatures and elders. No one could learn the song except the 144,000 who had been redeemed from the earth.”

I love music. I love to sing—not to hear myself sing, but to offer words to my Lord that I cannot offer to Him in any other way. I think this is what I enjoy second most about being a Christian: I get to sing all the time and no one questions why I am doing it. They know why: There is a song in my heart. “He put a new song in my mouth, a hymn of praise to our God.” I would be the worst of all sinners if a song existed in my heart and I stifled it. I would be the worst of all sinners if I closed my mouth and the rocks were forced to cry out in song. I would be the worst of all sinners if the song that God put in my heart were made to remain there instead of being released to rise on the wind to His Presence. What else can I do? Sing I must. And sing I will.

But I am not just going to sing. I am going to listen. You see, as I have heard it said, God gave us two ears so that we would listen twice as much as we talk. It seems to me that we should be a people of music too—a people who spend twice as much time listening to good music as we do singing it. “By day the Lord directs His love, at night His song is with me—a prayer to the God of my life.”

Thanks for reading my ramblings. My hope is that you will make some time today to listen to some music or perhaps make some music. Make music in your heart and raise your voice to the Great King.