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A faithful presence of love in the absences of our city.

The Practices of Song

The practices of song

Throughout my life, the music to which I have chosen to listen has been generally phasic. It all started, as best as I can remember, with a little-known Christian rap group, Ill Harmonics, and a better-known rock group, P.O.D. My brother and I would pass the CD player that we co-owned back and forth, taking turns listening to the catchy beats and lyrics. Then, for a time, I couldn’t get my hands on enough Reggae music - my short tenure running track in middle school is ensconced in a soundtrack of Bob Marley.

In high school, I was part of a small group of friends who picked up on emo music, the genre of music derived from hardcore punk, with variations from Indie rock to the so-called screamo forms, generally characterized by highly emotive (emo) lyrics. There was something in the musical intensity and lyrical authenticity which resonated with me; the genre’s ability to express angst and woe, for some reason, was particularly appealing to me as a nerdy little kid trying to find a place in which to fit. Looking back, it seems a curious and foreign experience to have lived, but, even now as I was thinking about this blog and reminiscing on the songs of my high school memories, I found a deep resonance within the sampling of songs that I surveyed.

There are certainly a number of reasons why certain songs, or certain types of singing, find a particular appeal for us at a given time, but as I think about my affinity for the morbid and intense lyrics of many of my favorite songs from another time, I find it important to consider that songs can give us the ability to express ourselves in ways otherwise inexplicable. In this, I think we can find a nugget of spiritual wisdom, applicable to our engagement with our great God. There are certainly numerous times where I am overcome with sensations and emotions, entirely inexplicable to my present vocabulary, but which can be fully articulated in the combination of melody and lyric. 

In the midst of the recognition of the holiness of God, perhaps we find the words in “Holy, Holy, Holy! Lord God Almighty!” Inarticulate, inscrutable agony can perhaps be articulated in an arrangement of Psalm 13: “How long wilt thou conceal Thy face?” Or perhaps, in being overcome with joy in the good pleasure of our God, we can but sing, “Joyful, joyful, we adore thee…”

I think that singing is one of the incredible gifts that God has to given to us that helps to point us toward, and articulate, and express those moments of life into which the transcendent is bursting; God is breaking in upon our haunted world, and our songs help to give expression to our recognition of this divine interference.

Those moments can be glorious indeed, where a song alone seems the fitting expression for the moment. However, far more common to my experience is those moments where I know I ought to be looking toward God, where I want to be bowled over by the holiness of God, where I know I ought to be humbled by my sinfulness, where I want to know God, to be in His very presence. But, in spite of my wanting, I seem to find myself inextricably bound up in the mundane inanities of life. And into this, I think that song has a very important role - song can help guide, lead, and orient ourselves toward God and His goodness. Let me attempt to illustrate how I see song playing this role. 

I really don’t like Christmas music very much. I am firmly planted in the camp that Christmas music has its place - definitely after Thanksgiving, and almost certainly only once December has begun. And even then, I find almost all of the songs slightly irksome and trite, reminding me of overcrowded malls and disgruntled people. My anthem for Christmas, however, is Handel’s Messiah. In December, you may catch me driving around town, with the dulcet melodies and vigorous bass solos blaring in my car, for it is a piece of music that must be listened to in its proper volume range. And if you are especially lucky, you may catch me trying out a few bass and tenor solos; it is incredibly difficult to not be caught up into the music. 

My favorite two sections of the whole performance are the bass solo and subsequent chorus based on the verses from Malachi 3:2-3, “But who can endure the day of his coming, and who can stand when he appears? For he is like a refiner's fire and like fullers' soap. He will sit as a refiner and purifier of silver, and he will purify the sons of Levi and refine them like gold and silver, and they will bring offerings in righteousness to the LORD.”

In these two sections, I find the parity of the lyrics with the melodies to be perfectly well suited to orient my heart and in mind in the proper direction of considering the coming of our holy God to earth. While the whole first movement (the first coming of Christ) is excellent for leading me through the Old Testament prophecies and into the birth narratives of the Gospels, I find that these verses from Malachi, when sung in this particular manner, lift my eyes from the hustle and bustle of Christmas preparations to look toward the coming of our Savior.

In this same manner, each Sunday, as we stand and sing through a curated list of songs, we sing through the Gospel - the call to worship, the confession and repentance, the assurance of our salvation, the confession of faith, a song of response, the song of communion and doxology. As I stand to sing, I rarely feel like singing; the words seem rote, the melodies too familiar. But herein lies the great opportunity for song to lift you from your reverie, to consider God, to consider your impoverished state, and to consider how Christ has raised you up to new life. In this way, the practices of song have great opportunity to raise your eyes to properly survey the cross, such that the words of God that will be preached will continue to shape and mold you as you go out into the world.

May God bless us with the cognizance and joy of incredible song that we will be elevated up to sing with the angels, “holy, holy, holy!”

 ~Josh Spare