Judges 5:3

*The following essay was a recent assignment for my music history class. The prompt was something like, "define sacred music, and describe the connection between music and religion." I wish I had more assignments like this.*


To me, the definition of ‘sacred music’ falls well outside the bland criterion of a musicologist or the boundaries of a church building on a Sunday morning. On the contrary, almost all music is sacred, and its connection to God is irrefutable – as intuitive as breathing. Sometimes, a poignant awareness of God’s majesty, of the sacrifice of His son, wells up inside me like a spring until it overflows in song, performance, and composition. Inspired by the Spirit, new melodies fill my head faster than I can scribble them down on paper, and even tedious practice sessions can become acts of worship.
I catch glimpses of His face in the most complex of symphonies, and I see His hand at work in the refrains of the simplest hymns. His sovereignty is equally obvious in the incomprehensible genius of Mozart and the unpretentious clarity of a child’s singing. God is with me as the allegretto of Beethoven’s seventh symphony thunders to a climax, near me as Vaughn Williams’ Lark Ascending soars above the staff, and in me as the harmonies of Faure’s Requiem build and build until my very heart threatens to break under the weight of His glory. For me, a snatch of music overheard in a practice room can, unbidden, become an undeniable manifestation of the omnipresence of the Living God.
On the manuscripts of J.S. Bach and even written into his music, we find the phrase “Soli Deo Gloria” – “only for the glory of God.” As I reach for the truth in this notion, I become convinced that God made music, first and foremost, for Himself, and our delight in it is merely incidental. Scripture reveals that in heaven, God is praised unceasingly in song. Music pleases us because it first pleased Him, and if all cultures and nations contain some form of music, I maintain that it is because the same God is Lord and maker of them all. Novelist J.R.R. Tolkein and apologeticist C.S. Lewis both imagined that God sang the universe into existence – that in the beginning, the music in His very being overflowed into matter and life. To me, little stretch of the imagination is required to concede that the rise and fall of God’s own song shaped the contours of our world, that within His voice lays the power to create and destroy, and that each human soul is as a melody-- nay, a masterpiece -- unique and precious to Him that created it.
So often, music is the conduit between my spirit and my Lord. So often, music is how God speaks to my heart, molds it, breaks it, and forges it anew. So often, music is the means by which God lays bare my soul before His throne. Halleluiah!


"Hear this, you kings! Listen, you rulers!
I will sing to the LORD, I will sing;
I will make music to the LORD, the God of Israel.”
--Judges 5:3

Happy Birthday Alex!

Yo yo. This is a holla-back to my peep, Alex. Happy birthday, A-dawg. The big one-four. Fo shizzle dizzle. Yo momma. Peace out.

Disclaimer: I do not currently speak, nor have I ever spoken eubonics. As such, I have no idea what most of these words and phrases actually mean, and I am sorry if any poor soul is inadvertently offended. But only a little bit sorry.

Tedious Introspection

Well, it's definitely been awhile, folks. I just felt like updating here (which will hopefully happen a little more frequently once school starts again). Those of you who have read my first entry are familiar with my philosophy of blogs as an outlet for confessions, so here's a good one for you: I confess that I feel compelled to make each post a masterpiece of literary precision, a magnum opus of mind-boggling revelation. I've actually started several posts and given up completely because they weren't turning out just right. The more I think about this, the sillier-- and more prideful-- it seems. I'd like to share more of my heart and less of my vocabulary (although I've already screwed up by using magnum opus). I figure that my friends will love me typos and all, and are more interested in my life than my literary prowess. On the flip side, my language is a big part of who I am, so I'll warn you now that some archaic and probably useless words are bound to crop up in the course of my ramblings. I ask for a little grace -- actually, a lot of grace. Actually, I'm not quite sure where this whole tangent is going, so perhaps it's best if I end it abruptly.