A friend sent BH the link to this video, “Stethoscope.” If you haven't seen it, click here.
I think you'll enjoy it.
Showing posts with label music. Show all posts
Showing posts with label music. Show all posts
Monday, April 13, 2009
Sunday, March 22, 2009
Sunday Mornings . . .
I was thinking today about how Sunday mornings have changed throughout my life, how as a child I loved to walk to our church a few blocks away for Sunday School, then stay for church. I loved the stories, the music, and the kind people who made coming to church fun.
As a teen-ager I sang in our church choir, and loved the music we sang. Then as a young adult I turned away from God for awhile, but when finally I came back to church I discovered how much I'd missed Him. Those were the Sunday mornings of diapers and disasters -- you know the kind: the spilled milk, the lost socks, the tangled hair and tears, the hurrying out the door while trying not to yell and completely undermine the purpose of going to worship.
That's when I learned the real value of a Saturday night well spent: baths, laying out clothes for Sunday morning, getting something ready for breakfast ahead of time. Usually BH made pancakes for our appreciative gang of kids while I helped the littlest ones eat and dress. We even occasionally made it out the door on time!
A local radio station, not usually our favorite, (the home of easy-listening music) had a Sunday morning program called Sounds of Faith, a nice mix of traditional hymns, contemporary Christian music, and gospel quartets. The host made small talk throughout the two hours. That program encouraged me while I was working, and helped me get ready for worship!
************
As our kids got older (and wanted to sleep later!) we began attending a contemporary service later in the morning. We weren't as rushed, and the radio station had pulled the plug on Sounds of Faith, but our CD collection filled that gap. Sitting in the service with our sometimes-surly teens and pre-teens was a lesson in focusing, and hoping that somehow, they would “get it.”
I never minded going to church, and during most of these seasons it's been the thing that gets me through the week. Sometimes a sermon or a song or an encounter makes me squirm; I've had a lot of changing and growing up into Christ to do, and I have a feeling the job isn't finished! but I was -- am -- hungry for the Word, for the fellowship, for the opportunity to worship. I've come to realize that those things are more dependent on my attitude than they are on whatever is happening in the service -- if I come ready to receive, I always find God there, ready to give!
************
We didn't offer our kids a choice. They were coming with us to church, period. As they got older we explained that we considered this part of their training, and part of our responsibility as their parents. What we did give them was an out when they graduated from high school. At that point, we told them, they would have to make a decision about their own faith. We'd be glad -- thrilled, even -- if they continued to come with us as a freely made choice, but we wouldn't press them if they decided not to come along.
When BH accepted a pastoral call, we lost the pleasure of sitting together in church. We only had one child still at home with us full-time. That child came to church with me -- not always too happily -- but the day came when he graduated high school and left home for sailing ships, service, and adventure. For the first time since I was a young girl, I sat in church alone, but God brought a most precious gift: one of our daughters and her family moved, and began coming to church with us.
As time has gone by, all our kids live out a measure of faith. They've seen the worst of church life -- the bickering, the pettiness, and the faithlessness that sometimes afflict God's people; but they've also seen the best of it: the times when we live out and live in God's presence among us in Christ. They've experienced love, compassion, and caring; they've seen tremendous examples of spiritual maturity and strength. They sometimes struggle with faith, they sometimes question it, they try to live it out honestly, and wrestle with all that that means. I am confident that whatever they need, God has, and is, and will supply.
Most Sunday mornings now are more leisurely, more quiet. I sit expectantly in church, grateful for the privilege of being there. I look around, amazed at God's work, His willingness to meet us as we are. I'm touched by the music, by the Word, by the preaching. I think about sitting in church with my parents, my grandparents, my brothers and sisters, my husband and our family, friends I've come to love.
************
The time will come when some Sunday morning will be the last Sunday morning I go to worship. Perhaps I'll be aware of it; more likely I won't. Death can come suddenly, and things we think might go on forever just stop. Or infirmity might keep me home, or confined to a hospital or nursing home where I'll be dependent on whatever church group is kind enough to bring a service to us.
But what a rich gift it is right now, to be able to go to church, to worship freely and openly, to hear the Word preached, to sing together in worship, to love and be loved. What a privilege to be nourished, encouraged, and sent out into the everyday world to live out the faith we've just celebrated -- what a rich gift it is to be part of God's family in faith.
As a teen-ager I sang in our church choir, and loved the music we sang. Then as a young adult I turned away from God for awhile, but when finally I came back to church I discovered how much I'd missed Him. Those were the Sunday mornings of diapers and disasters -- you know the kind: the spilled milk, the lost socks, the tangled hair and tears, the hurrying out the door while trying not to yell and completely undermine the purpose of going to worship.
That's when I learned the real value of a Saturday night well spent: baths, laying out clothes for Sunday morning, getting something ready for breakfast ahead of time. Usually BH made pancakes for our appreciative gang of kids while I helped the littlest ones eat and dress. We even occasionally made it out the door on time!
A local radio station, not usually our favorite, (the home of easy-listening music) had a Sunday morning program called Sounds of Faith, a nice mix of traditional hymns, contemporary Christian music, and gospel quartets. The host made small talk throughout the two hours. That program encouraged me while I was working, and helped me get ready for worship!
************
As our kids got older (and wanted to sleep later!) we began attending a contemporary service later in the morning. We weren't as rushed, and the radio station had pulled the plug on Sounds of Faith, but our CD collection filled that gap. Sitting in the service with our sometimes-surly teens and pre-teens was a lesson in focusing, and hoping that somehow, they would “get it.”
I never minded going to church, and during most of these seasons it's been the thing that gets me through the week. Sometimes a sermon or a song or an encounter makes me squirm; I've had a lot of changing and growing up into Christ to do, and I have a feeling the job isn't finished! but I was -- am -- hungry for the Word, for the fellowship, for the opportunity to worship. I've come to realize that those things are more dependent on my attitude than they are on whatever is happening in the service -- if I come ready to receive, I always find God there, ready to give!
************
We didn't offer our kids a choice. They were coming with us to church, period. As they got older we explained that we considered this part of their training, and part of our responsibility as their parents. What we did give them was an out when they graduated from high school. At that point, we told them, they would have to make a decision about their own faith. We'd be glad -- thrilled, even -- if they continued to come with us as a freely made choice, but we wouldn't press them if they decided not to come along.
When BH accepted a pastoral call, we lost the pleasure of sitting together in church. We only had one child still at home with us full-time. That child came to church with me -- not always too happily -- but the day came when he graduated high school and left home for sailing ships, service, and adventure. For the first time since I was a young girl, I sat in church alone, but God brought a most precious gift: one of our daughters and her family moved, and began coming to church with us.
As time has gone by, all our kids live out a measure of faith. They've seen the worst of church life -- the bickering, the pettiness, and the faithlessness that sometimes afflict God's people; but they've also seen the best of it: the times when we live out and live in God's presence among us in Christ. They've experienced love, compassion, and caring; they've seen tremendous examples of spiritual maturity and strength. They sometimes struggle with faith, they sometimes question it, they try to live it out honestly, and wrestle with all that that means. I am confident that whatever they need, God has, and is, and will supply.
Most Sunday mornings now are more leisurely, more quiet. I sit expectantly in church, grateful for the privilege of being there. I look around, amazed at God's work, His willingness to meet us as we are. I'm touched by the music, by the Word, by the preaching. I think about sitting in church with my parents, my grandparents, my brothers and sisters, my husband and our family, friends I've come to love.
************
The time will come when some Sunday morning will be the last Sunday morning I go to worship. Perhaps I'll be aware of it; more likely I won't. Death can come suddenly, and things we think might go on forever just stop. Or infirmity might keep me home, or confined to a hospital or nursing home where I'll be dependent on whatever church group is kind enough to bring a service to us.
But what a rich gift it is right now, to be able to go to church, to worship freely and openly, to hear the Word preached, to sing together in worship, to love and be loved. What a privilege to be nourished, encouraged, and sent out into the everyday world to live out the faith we've just celebrated -- what a rich gift it is to be part of God's family in faith.
Saturday, August 16, 2008
Desiring . . .
This week I've been listening to Bach's Jesu Joy of Man's Desiring, and I've been listening to what passes for silence around here.
I say “passes for silence” because the silence isn't always very quiet.
There are crickets, trucks, a little song sparrow who has made her home close to ours, various neighborhood construction projects, kids wringing the last fun from summer -- the silence I think I'm getting when I turn off all the appliances and noisemakers in our house is filled up by the noises of the neighborhood.
Those lively noises don't bother me; they have a quality of sharing life about them that is usually pleasing.
And sometimes I've invited Bach into the “silence.” For some reason I've wanted to hear Jesu Joy of Man's Desiring over and over again.
Perhaps it's the good memories associated with that piece of music -- weddings, holidays, quiet mornings with a second cup of coffee. Or it could just be the sheer loveliness of the music. I seem to hear something new each time I listen.
Maybe it's the sense of calm assurance the music seems to hold. This is not intrusive music. It's more like an invitation.
As Kathleen Norris's student said, “Silence reminds me to take my soul with me wherever I go.”
And sometimes, so does music.
I say “passes for silence” because the silence isn't always very quiet.
There are crickets, trucks, a little song sparrow who has made her home close to ours, various neighborhood construction projects, kids wringing the last fun from summer -- the silence I think I'm getting when I turn off all the appliances and noisemakers in our house is filled up by the noises of the neighborhood.
Those lively noises don't bother me; they have a quality of sharing life about them that is usually pleasing.
And sometimes I've invited Bach into the “silence.” For some reason I've wanted to hear Jesu Joy of Man's Desiring over and over again.
Perhaps it's the good memories associated with that piece of music -- weddings, holidays, quiet mornings with a second cup of coffee. Or it could just be the sheer loveliness of the music. I seem to hear something new each time I listen.
Maybe it's the sense of calm assurance the music seems to hold. This is not intrusive music. It's more like an invitation.
As Kathleen Norris's student said, “Silence reminds me to take my soul with me wherever I go.”
And sometimes, so does music.
Monday, November 5, 2007
Handel on an Autumn Afternoon's Drive . . .
Yesterday I had to make an hour's drive in the middle of the afternoon. It was glorious, beautiful autumn weather, not too warm but not cold, either. Traffic was light, the road was good, and I put Handel's Messiah into the CD player.
It had been a difficult week – our beloved dog Meg died suddenly, unexpectedly, and we were devastated. A friend was sick with an undiagnosed ailment, an acquaintance died, a sudden work assignment came up, I realized I'd forgotten to return something to its proper place in the office, causing problems for someone else.
Somehow, the trip with Handel eased my sadness. Mary Byers is right: “music is another way to meet God.” The music, the words, Kathleen Battles's lovely voice – they worked together to soothe, to reassure, to lift my spirits. I was reminded that nothing surprises God, that not only does He have a plan – He is the plan.
Disappointment, grief, sadness are all so real, and one afternoon of music won't make them disappear. It just reminds me that I don't suffer them without hope.
And that's enough for now.
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