I express my faith through music.
These two great passions of mine are so intricately intertwined,
so fundamental to my being,
that I often don't even realize the depth and complexity of the connection.
That is,
until times like tonight.
Last night, June 17, 2015, a horrific hate crime was committed in Charleston, SC.
One young white man shot and killed 9 African American individuals at Emanuel African Methodist Episcopal Church.
This sheer act of violence and domestic terrorism has troubled me all day.
The senseless loss of life makes my heart ache.
The gross injustice of how the story has been portrayed and focused upon by the media makes my insides churn.
I pray for solace for families and friends of the nine victims.
I yearned to be with the All Peoples Church community in Milwaukee as my brothers and sisters in Christ joined together for a candlelight vigil this evening to pray for peace, honor the fallen, and stand in solidarity with those who continue to fight for justice.
I grapple with my own privilege as a white woman.
I feel like I can't justify sitting here, carrying on with my average, safe daily life when there is work to be done and change to be made in the world today. At the same time, I feel that as just one person, I lack the ability to take real, productive action with matters of social justice, especially when it comes to race.
My soul was discontent,
at odds with the world and with itself.
So,
I turned to the only thing I knew might quiet the inner struggles of my heart -
music.
I've been prepping for MADD (music/art/drama/dance) camp this coming week, so have been pouring over parables and songs, including a hymn from the new Presbyterian hymnal that my grandfather quoted in his sermon last week. That hymn, chronicling four parables of Jesus, is found in the section of the hymnal labeled "justice and reconciliation;" I decided this section would be worth a closer look, particularly given today's societal and personal circumstances.
One page turn forward led me to the hymn "Heaven Shall Not Wait," which did not include four-part piano accompaniment but did list guitar chords. I played and sang through it, sightreading the melody and harmony, then rereading the text alone to fully internalize its meaning.
It was this hymn,
along with other tunes that I played and sang for myself this evening,
that helped me to tangibly feel and understand the hope which comes from God in the midst of injustice and strife.
I can't really explain it, and to an outsider, there's no logical reason for me to feel this way.
However, music is one of the most true things I know in this existence,
and I believe that God uses music as one way to share God's truths.
At least that's what I experience.
It was through this gift of music that I was reminded of the following truths:
We don't have to wait to be more able or equipped or qualified to do God's work in the world.
We are called and empowered to listen to the cries for justice, and to take action, no matter how small our actions may seem.
Jesus works in spite of our imperfections and shortcomings
and still shares the kingdom with us and through us.
The kingdom of heaven, the glory of God, is right here.
It's not some lofty thing for which we have to wait.
We don't have to wait for people to do the right thing
or come up with the perfect solutions
or share their wealth
or for the world to end.
Jesus' unconditional, incomprehensible love
is for
today.
It's for tomorrow. It's for next week. It's for a hundred years in the future.
It's for the most difficult times and for moments of great joy.
It's for right now.
It's already here.
"Heaven Shall Not Wait," #773 in Glory to God: Hymns, Psalms, and Spiritual Songs
Text: John L. Bell and Graham Maule, 1987
Music: John L. Bell, 1987
copyright 1987 WGRG, Iona Community
The senseless loss of life makes my heart ache.
The gross injustice of how the story has been portrayed and focused upon by the media makes my insides churn.
I pray for solace for families and friends of the nine victims.
I yearned to be with the All Peoples Church community in Milwaukee as my brothers and sisters in Christ joined together for a candlelight vigil this evening to pray for peace, honor the fallen, and stand in solidarity with those who continue to fight for justice.
I grapple with my own privilege as a white woman.
I feel like I can't justify sitting here, carrying on with my average, safe daily life when there is work to be done and change to be made in the world today. At the same time, I feel that as just one person, I lack the ability to take real, productive action with matters of social justice, especially when it comes to race.
My soul was discontent,
at odds with the world and with itself.
So,
I turned to the only thing I knew might quiet the inner struggles of my heart -
music.
I've been prepping for MADD (music/art/drama/dance) camp this coming week, so have been pouring over parables and songs, including a hymn from the new Presbyterian hymnal that my grandfather quoted in his sermon last week. That hymn, chronicling four parables of Jesus, is found in the section of the hymnal labeled "justice and reconciliation;" I decided this section would be worth a closer look, particularly given today's societal and personal circumstances.
One page turn forward led me to the hymn "Heaven Shall Not Wait," which did not include four-part piano accompaniment but did list guitar chords. I played and sang through it, sightreading the melody and harmony, then rereading the text alone to fully internalize its meaning.
Heaven shall not wait for the poor to lose their patience,
the scorned to smile, the despised to find a friend:
Jesus is Lord; he has championed the unwanted;
in him injustice confronts its timely end.
Heaven shall not wait for the rich to share their fortunes,
the proud to fall, the elite to tend the least:
Jesus is Lord; he has shown the master's privilege:
to kneel and wash servants' feet before they feast.
Heaven shall not wait for the dawn of great ideas,
thoughts of compassion divorced from cries of pain:
Jesus is Lord; he has married word and action;
his cross and company make his purpose plain.
Heaven shall not wait for triumphant Hallelujahs,
when earth has passed and we reach another shore:
Jesus is Lord in our present imperfection;
his power and love are for now and then for evermore.
It was this hymn,
along with other tunes that I played and sang for myself this evening,
that helped me to tangibly feel and understand the hope which comes from God in the midst of injustice and strife.
I can't really explain it, and to an outsider, there's no logical reason for me to feel this way.
However, music is one of the most true things I know in this existence,
and I believe that God uses music as one way to share God's truths.
At least that's what I experience.
It was through this gift of music that I was reminded of the following truths:
We don't have to wait to be more able or equipped or qualified to do God's work in the world.
We are called and empowered to listen to the cries for justice, and to take action, no matter how small our actions may seem.
Jesus works in spite of our imperfections and shortcomings
and still shares the kingdom with us and through us.
The kingdom of heaven, the glory of God, is right here.
It's not some lofty thing for which we have to wait.
We don't have to wait for people to do the right thing
or come up with the perfect solutions
or share their wealth
or for the world to end.
Jesus' unconditional, incomprehensible love
is for
today.
It's for tomorrow. It's for next week. It's for a hundred years in the future.
It's for the most difficult times and for moments of great joy.
It's for right now.
It's already here.
"Heaven Shall Not Wait," #773 in Glory to God: Hymns, Psalms, and Spiritual Songs
Text: John L. Bell and Graham Maule, 1987
Music: John L. Bell, 1987
copyright 1987 WGRG, Iona Community
I don't know why I ended up on this post today, since I know it's an older one. But as I read it I started to cry, so obviously it was needed! What perfect lyrics for the time we are living in, what a great song, thanks be to God.
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