It must have been sometime in the mid-1960s when my oldest brother Gary brought home a Sears Silvertone acoustic guitar, from our grandmother’s house, long abandoned by my uncle – setting into motion a chain of events that would forever change the trajectory of the lives of my two older brothers and myself. Because not only did my brother Gary take to making music almost immediately, but my brother Jeff wasn’t too far behind him, in taking to it as well. Which was all a bit intimidating for me at first, but eventually I discovered my own path at music making. Until finally, all three of us had become accomplished singer/songwriters, performing and recording music.
For me the allure of music was almost irresistible. The idea that in a three or four minute, minimally sketched out bit of poetic storytelling, brought to life with a finely honed melody, would create a response so evocative and moving — was just mystifying to me. So I wasn’t simply interested in mastering a musical instrument – I wanted to learn to create the same kind of enchantment I had experienced, embedded in those songs that seemed capable of transporting my heart and mind, so effortlessly. Because it struck me that mastering such an artistic process would be akin to opening up a door into another dimension.
Even without lyrics, the transcendent quality of music, has the ability that all other forms of art have in reminding me that there’s far more to existence than what can be found at face value. So I am drawn like a magnet to the source of such beauty for it is this very longing of the soul that gives music its uniquely intimate quality. Consider this — music is such an anthropological constant, every culture, sub-culture, and individual can hear a song that speaks to them, as if it were written to them, making it both a shared and a personal experience, simultaneously. It’s as if music were being drawn from a deeper ontological well – a well that we all drink from . . . and in so doing, we remember something essential about ourselves.
No doubt you have a favorite song, or recording artist, or composer – music that you connect with in an almost indescribable way. I see you out there driving down the road, passionately singing along, or maybe just going about your daily business, with ear buds in, taping out the rhythm – but that’s okay, that’s me too. Music allows us to experience something about ourselves, unlike anything else – because it’s able to circumvent our usual cognitive filters, so that we might know things in ways our intellect is incapable of explaining.
So as we enter into the house of God, seeking to have our hearts and minds recalibrated in our corporate confession that Jesus is Lord – we lift our voices in songs of praise with voices from around the world, adding our voice to the voices that have come long before us, declaring the glory of God. Because Ephesians 5:19-21 seems to suggest that these are the songs that bind us together – that as Jesus becomes our overwhelming focus, we might see on one another’s face, the joy of the Lord. So I sing — “I was glad when they said to me, “Let us go to the house of the Lord!”” (Psalm 122:1), and “Oh sing to the Lord a new song; sing to the Lord, all the earth!” (Psalm 96:1) . . . won’t you join me?
Praise God from who all blessings flow . . .