Touching Music

I still don't know why God created music. Everything else, I can see a practical purpose, but music... beauty seems to be its only purpose. And it's a beauty that easily translates into worship.

Yesterday, I directed the children's choir in our morning service. Eleven children, all ages ten and under, stood nervously on the steps of the stage. Smile!, I motioned to them. A few grinned back at me. When the music began, they took a deep breath, and sang as we had always rehearsed it. And though I could not see the congregation behind me, I heard their voices join ours.

By the end, tears were streaming down my face. The children, along with their wiggles and giggles, were so wonderful, innocent, and enthusiastic as they lead the church in song. At one point, as the children sang "and I lift my voice", I closed my eyes and my heart leaped in joy. It was the moment in conducting that I love the most, the moment when the music becomes tangible, so tangible that I can touch it. (Some of you think I'm crazy, but a few of you know what I'm talking about.) The music was like clay that I could shape and mold with ease. My hands moved as if I was painting a picture, and the picture I saw was one of angels in the heavens worshipping with us here on earth.

As I'm typing this now, my four-year-old is singing "Let everything that... let everything that... let everything that has breath praise the Lord!" as he plays in the other room. My heart leaps again, and I am glad for music.