You are currently browsing the monthly archive for March, 2008.
Ok, this is so silly, especially in a world where Youtube videos get millions of hits, but my counter read 1,000 visits today. Feels like a sort of accomplishment. Thanks to all of you who are reading. Please join the conversation as you are able. I’d love to hear from you!
Because I have been so busy lately (Holy Week, go figure!) it has been hard to find time to write some new entries of my own. However, God drops wonderful things in my email box from time to time. If they touch a deep place in me, it only feels right to share them.
The following paragraphs are from a new book by Christian singer and songwriter, Michael Card. They seem most appropriate for Holy Week and they bring to mind the many people in my life who are grieving for one reason or another.
“David, who spent more than his share of long, agonizing nights, knew that morning is the time when things inevitably change for the better (Psalm 5:3; 143:8). Even in the midst of his darkest, most mournful lament, Jeremiah recognized that morning was a special time to wait for the trustworthy appearance of the HESED of God (Lamentations 3:22-23). The appearance of his loving-kindness and compassionate faithfulness meant the end of mourning, for the time being. What makes morning unique is that it is the time when HESED appears.
They are both old, sturdy, Anglo-Saxon words: “morning” and “mourning.” Despite the fact that they sound virtually the same, they descend from two completely different roots, as their spelling indicates. Yet they are inextricably linked in the Bible.
Perhaps what links the two words together is the fact that they both represent moments when we “wake up.” Clearly morning is the time when we open our eyes to the hope of a new day; but in another, deeper sense, a time of mourning can also be an occasion when we “come to our senses” and with new, tear-cleansed eyes see the world as we have never seen it before.
When suffering wakes us up, lament leads us to a new understanding of who God is and what [God] means, or can mean, to us. The good news is that [God] is fully present, both in the joy that comes in the morning as well as in the sorrow of mourning.
“Now is your time of grief,” Jesus told his disciples just before He was arrested, “but I will see you again and you will rejoice, and no one will take away your joy” (John 16:22). That first Easter morning, as the disciples awoke from their sorrowful sleep, could they have ever dreamed of the greater joy to which they were about to awake–a joy that could only come to them in the morning after their long night of unspeakable mourning?”
–Michael Card, from The Hidden Face of God, Colorado Springs: NavPress, 2007, pp.
49-50. ISBN-13: 978-1-57683-669-9.
I heard a terrific “This I Believe” essay by Yo-Yo Ma on NPR this afternoon. As I was cruising down the highway, I was moved by his terse but passionate justification for his work as a musician – especially his role as a cultural and musical bridge-builder.
I could not agree with him more and it struck me that musicians in the church can and must be about this same sort of work. When planning worship, we do not have to choose from just one musical, cultural or spiritual tradition but can choose from them all. We can find things to love in each! And it is amazing to hear such an accomplished and thoughtful musician say that as he has embraced this diversity, even choosing to move toward what he does not understand, it has opened up new meaning for his music-making. I have to believe that the same holds true for the church. Our faith will deepen and grow as we listen to, learn from and love the music of others.
I’m including the text of his essay below and you can also listen by clicking here.
“I believe in the infinite variety of human expression.
I grew up in three cultures: I was born in Paris, my parents were from China and I was brought up mostly in America. When I was young, this was very confusing: everyone said that their culture was best, but I knew they couldn’t all be right.
I felt that there was an expectation that I would choose to be Chinese or French or American. For many years I bounced among the three, trying on each but never being wholly comfortable. I hoped I wouldn’t have to choose, but I didn’t know what that meant and how exactly to “not choose.”
However, the process of trying on each culture taught me something. As I struggled to belong, I came to understand what made each one unique. At that point, I realized that I didn’t need to choose one culture to the exclusion of another, but instead I could choose from all three.
The values I selected would become part of who I was, but no one culture needed to win. I could honor the cultural depth and longevity of my Chinese heritage, while feeling just as passionate about the deep artistic traditions of the French and the American commitment to opportunity and the future.
So, rather than settling on any one of the cultures in which I grew up, I now choose to explore many more cultures and find elements to love in each. Every day I make an effort to go toward what I don’t understand. This wandering leads to the accidental learning that continually shapes my life.
As I work in music today, I try to implement this idea — that the music I play, like me, doesn’t belong to only one culture. In recent years, I have explored many musical traditions.
Along the way, I have met musicians who share a belief in the creative power that exists at the intersection of cultures. These musicians have generously become my guides to their traditions. Thanks to them and their music I have found new meaning in my own music making.
It is extraordinary the way people, music and cultures develop. The paths and experiences that guide them are unpredictable. Shaped by our families, neighborhoods, cultures and countries, each of us ultimately goes through this process of incorporating what we learn with who we are and who we seek to become. As we struggle to find our individual voices, I believe we must look beyond the voice we’ve been assigned, and find our place among the tones and timbre of human expression.”
