Day 505 - November 2 - Music Soothes the Savage Breast

Or so William Congreve once said. It's odd how that quote is so often misquoted as "soothes the savage beast", as if you could stop a rampaging grizzly bear from eating out your innards if you could just loan him your iPod! No, the savagery here lies inside us, not in the animal world, and Mr. C. was right - music does help calm us when we're in turmoil inside.

I was driving home from work last week, and as is often the case, my soul was tormented. I was feeling lonely and abandoned, so I did what I often do when that happens - I flipped on the radio and started cycling through my iPod, trying to find that one "perfect song" that God was going to use to minister to me. I couldn't find anything that calmed my spirit, so I was going to turn on K-LOVE (a Christian radio station) when I got to thinking - my Dad commuted 90 miles each way to White Sands Missile Range for a while when I was a kid; when he was feeling like I was feeling, what did he do to help? I mean, assuming that he even had a radio in his car in the 60s and 70's, there were still no Christian radio stations out in the desert of West Texas. He might have had a tape player, but there were certainly no CDs or iPods around. And that caused me to wonder what my grandfather would have done back in the 30s or 40s or 50s when he was feeling the way I was - and what about the generation before that, or (for that matter) the guys who lived in, say 287 AD? They had no way, when feeling oppressed by their circumstances, to flip a switch and have a pre-recorded musical interlude sweep in and make it all feel better - so what did they do?

That got me to thinking about my response to music in general. Stay with me here - it's a bit convoluted, but I actually do have a point. So I was thinking about how I use music in my life, and it began to dawn on me that nearly all of my response to God through music is as a spectator. I listen to some music that's uplifting or causes me to focus on God on the radio, or on my iPod, and if I even think seriously about the words, it's only for the duration of the song. On the radio in particular, you're immediately swept off to either a different song with a different focus, or you get to "interact" with the DJs as they banter about their next cruise to the Bahamas or something. At home, if I've got music playing, it's primarily background noise - I seldom give it any real attention. Even in church, when I sing along with the worship band, I am really just mouthing words that someone else decided would go good with the sermon today. Sure, I can pay attention to the words we're singing, and mean them; and once in a while the words will even move me spiritually. But for the most part, I do worship music as a spectator (or at best a passive follower). And I don't think that's how I'm supposed to worship. I also suspect that if you think about it, you'll conclude that you probably do the same thing. Am I right?

So, what did I do about it? Well, I don't really know what my grandfather would have done in a situation like this, but I imagine he had two of the same things that I have - a connection to the Living God, and a vast repertoire of spiritual music stuck in my head from years and years at church. So as I drove home, I turned off the radio, then I prayed out loud to God, telling Him that I thought He was worthy of more than just my mouth moving while I sang to the latest pre-recorded hit single from somebody about whom I know nothing. And I prayed that even though it wasn't peppy or modern or even on-key, that God would find my - MY - offering of worship to be pleasing to Him. And I asked Him to help me remember the right words to the right songs that would be most pleasing to Him, and then opened my mouth and began to sing. "Holy, Holy, Holy". "Wonderful Grace of Jesus". "How Great Thou Art". "And He Walks With Me". "There Rings a Melody". I just sang, and sang, and sang, and one song led to another, and to another, and to another. It was pretty cool - at the end of every song, there was another one in my head to sing. I didn't wrack my brain to come up with another one. I just sang.

And do you know what? I communed with God. And by the time I got home and the last creaky note died away inside the car, I wasn't oppressed anymore. I didn't feel abandoned anymore. I knew that I had been, for a few non-spectatorial moments, truly worshipping all by myself. No fancy guitar licks. No rockin' lyrics. Nobody else to carry the musical load and cover up my bad notes. Just a man and His God being of like mind. Wow.

So, I'm going to turn the radio off more often. Maybe there's something to that whole "be still and know that I am God" thing, after all!

Connor has to go get some ultrasounds done this afternoon. It's mostly routine for this situation - they need to make sure that all the things inside are still the way they're supposed to be, as folks who suffer from paralysis often have difficulties with many of their innards. So they do this every year or so just to identify any changes that might arise. For Connor, I'd ask you to be praying that the visit would go smoothly, particularly that the technicians would be able to get the necessary views without needing to get Connor out of his chair; and that the results would be normal - not "normal for people in this situation", which is often very different from "normal for you and me", but rather normal as in "properly functioning without flaw". Pray too for Cherié, as she will be getting him out the door by herself today. Pray for their safety, and please, please, please, continue to pray for his restoration. It's coming, and we can't wait!

Oh, and while you're at it, spend a bit of time in solitary worship with your God. He likes it.

E.

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