Meditation

One of my favorite sets of compositions for classical piano is “Songs Without Words,” by Felix Mendelssohn. Comprised of 48 lyrical pieces, relatively short in length, and covering a wide range of characters, it is, to me, a delightful escape. When asked about the curious title, Mendelssohn stated, “Even if, in one or other of them, I had a particular word or words in mind, I would not want to tell anyone, because the same word means different things to different people. Only the songs say the same thing, arouse the same feeling, in everyone – a feeling that can’t be expressed in words.” Though this post is not about instrumental music, I find in Mendelssohn’s words an understanding of the power of words to impress, to guide, to speak.

I love a good lyric. People who can craft a beautiful, compact line – well, forgive me, but I must admit, I’m envious. You know – those kinds of lyrics that give you the same feeling as if you were in a dark room, the light came on and someone was standing directly in front of you a foot away. Those are the kind I love – the kind that I rewind over and over until I wear a groove in the CD, the kind that arrest my thoughts. Lately I’ve heard God speak to me so clearly through song. (Sometimes it’s easy to just sing a song and not hear the message.) Hymns, choruses, you name it. I’m amazed (I wonder why?) how it all works, how a particular lyric, possibly written hundreds of years ago or even just yesterday, can speak truth into my situation. Last week in chapel at Gateway, a group of students sang a re-arrangement of “Jesus Paid It All” that spoke to me afresh, though I’d heard it many times before:

And when, before the throne, I stand in Him complete,
“Jesus died my soul to save,”
My lips shall still repeat.”

Jesus paid it all, all to Him I owe.
Sin had left a crimson stain, He washed it white as snow.

Complete. Complete because of Him - not my accomplishments, my relationships, my degrees, or my possessions. Simply because of Him.

Or what about this one:
Could we with ink the ocean fill
And were the skies of parchment made.
Were every stalk on earth a quill
And every man a scribe by trade.
To write the love of God above would drain the ocean dry.
Nor could the scroll contain the whole, though stretched from sky to sky.

O love of God, how rich and pure!
How measureless and strong!
It shall forevermore endure.
The saints’ and angels’ song.
To grasp and express the dimensions of God’s love – we all know that’s just not possible. But to pen words like these – I think that’s the closest one could ever come.

Finally, one of my current favorites just blew me away the first time I heard it. Written and sung by the inimitable Babbie Mason on her CD “Right Where You Are”, the song is entitled “The Spirit is Willing (But The Flesh Is Weak). Here are a few lines:
I turn my eyes and look within
To deeply grieve for all I see
Your love compels me to surrender
I lay my burdens at your feet, your feet.

So I abandon my ambitions vain,
And I take up Your cross,
O bless that sweet exchange.
Never let me be moved from this divine retreat.
For the spirit is willing, but the flesh is weak….

So, set down with your favorite bunch of songs, choruses or hymns. Read them, absorb them, and meditate on them. You just might hear the voice of God afresh, speaking truth.