Music

I find music absolutely amazing. There seems to be something built into the soul of man that requires it. Through the ages, no matter the culture, there has been music of some kind. It transcends language, race, gender, religion, culture, and even time. When we have music from hundreds of years ago, we can still play it and enjoy it today.

Kelly was playing one of his internet radio stations today that plays 80's rock music, like I used to listen to in junior high. I can't remember the names of most of the people I talked to on a regular basis 18 years ago (did I just admit that in my out-loud voice?) but when he started playing the music, I remembered the lyrics, even though I hadn't heard them in many, many years.

One of the music ministers in a church we used to attend used to make the statement that music was the one ministry that we would still do in heaven. There would be no poor people, no sick, no lost people, but we would still sing before the throne of God. I don't know how exactly accurate his claim is - after all there's much about heaven and what we'll do there that we don't know. However, the Bible does talk about singing the praises of God around the throne.

As a member of choirs over many years, I remember the thrill of intricate harmonies, stirring lyrics, and the almost magical melding of voices. But I know nothing can compare to that day. And if 18 years later I can still remember the crummy lyrics to really bad music, just imagine the songs we'll remember the instant we are in glory.

I think this is why music is such an inseparable part of man's makeup. Just as the stones will cry out in praises to God if man does not, there is a part of each of us that is made to sing praises to our Lord, that our sinful nature cannot suppress. It can be corrupted and made to serve the purposes of the enemy, but it cannot be denied.

In L.M. Montgomery's third book in the Anne of Green Gables series, called Anne of the Island, one of Anne's childhood friends dies of tuberculosis. Before she passes away, Anne tries to calm her fears of dying by talking about heaven. Her friend replies to her, "Yes, but it won't be what I'm used to." Our music in praise to Him, whether it is one of our hymns, or a piece from Handel, seems to me to be a bridge to the next life. What a comfort it will be when our time comes to leave this earth, and we hear the heavenly music for the first time.

May it be for each of us what we are "used to."