Echoing Joyeous Strains

     With every Christmastime comes a special spirit that can soften even the stiffest of hearts.

     It was a rough mission for me, dealing with a lot of disillusionment, pain, and instability-- a hot potato without a hand to clasp it.  Nobody wanted me; not a soul wanted to hear what he had to say.  Abandoned and ready to head back to a world unforgiving of surrender, he contemplated, all the months long-- to paraphrase a somewhat obscure song: it was time for him to enter the porridge-- nothing but him and his secrets he was keeping.  It wasn't a pretty time-- negativity had swarmed my mind, taking over my soul.

     A frigid mid-December evening fast approached the church building.  With it were the people entering in droves.  The congregation in the chapel was filled to capacity-- the audience, ready; the singers, just about.

     The first of the choirs come out onto the pulpit and display their marvelous renditions of Christmas carols and hymns.  Natalie Sleeth.  Linda Spevacek.  John Rutter.  Each composer's vocal praises-- the singers' renditions-- were heard by all in the audience. 

     And then, we come up.  The joint-choir of both our congregation and another's take the chairs in front.  The conductor taps her middle finger and her thumb three times, raises her hands high into the heavens, and brings them down with a like force.  Our mouths open and the "good news" starts pouring out of the auditorium.  The baptist choir-esque groove had snuck in a smile among both singers and listeners alike.  Then came Will Todd's "My Lord Has Come."  The atmosphere suddenly dropped-- it turned into a silent reverence.  The song started out in a quiet, elongated ooo-ing by the men and then the melody by the women.

     "His love will cradle me.  His love will cherish me."

     The burst of emphasis had given light to the song's zenith.  The silent search of the baby Jesus culminated with the assurance that the searchers have indeed come for what they were looking for-- a transcending love giving strength and joy among all who have received this glad tiding.

     The mmm's cradle the song slowly into its conclusion.  A brief silence had come over the people.  That familiar presence-- how splendid it was!  The program finished with a combined vocal symphony of "He Is Born."  It was a moment where there was raw joy emanating in the air-- the audience and singer alike, both lifted ten feet off the ground.

     It saved my life.

     The power of music is real.  It has a way of filling in the minute cracks in the heart that break us down-- filling it so that we can be full again; in spirit and in body.  It can soften even the stiffest of hearts.  The singing and praising of the denizens of a small, imaginary town inflated the heart of the greenest, most notorious Christmas curmudgeon to a size even he couldn't handle!  Music is powerful.  It influences.  It evokes in the mind, vivid pictures of love, beauty, and hope toward all within earshot of the angelic voices.  There's something about it that brings comfort and hope-- knowledge from on high that everything's going to be okay.

     This Christmas, take the time out to organize a small (motley) choir group and go out caroling!   The power of the spoken word can do wonders on the human soul.  Lift someone in need.  Seriously.