letdown

The prelude - a composition for brass and organ - was dark and brooding. Its start was a long time coming; the choir, surprisingly enough, was ahead of schedule and so there we all sat - choir robed and in our rows, brass ensemble seated in their chairs, instruments just an arm's reach away, Herr Director on the podium, baton lowered, checking his watch. Every so often he'd look to the organ, and The Boss, eyes constantly checking the organ clock, would shake his head in a firm "no."

"I feel like we should be singing the Jeopardy song," I whispered to my neighbor. She chuckled in agreement.

The title of the piece - Offertoire in G Minor - is one of those that doesn't explain a thing about the work's musical content. I didn't know what to expect. It wasn't an obvious choice, given the hymn festival's theme of "Every Square Inch." However, in its 7 minutes a stage was set. In those early bars of dark, brooding sound I saw a world torn asunder and as the music changed tone heard hope for the future.

Children offered the introit: "All who dwell on earth resound with one accord... Break forth in song before our Lord and King." And with a "whoosh-shuffle-shuffle...," a thousand people stood to their feet at the director's cue. Then like sunlight through the clouds the opening brass motives of "All Creatures of our God and King" called us together in praise. The music builds and builds and builds until anyone listening feels that they have no choice - they simply must sing.

And so sing we do.

A full sanctuary, a full choir loft, full organ, full brass, full hearts, full minds...

Full selves, fully engaged in worship.

And so it goes for a blissful hour and a half - readings interspersed with music, all pointing to God's sovereignty over every aspect of life. So many wonderful texts, and so many gorgeous melodies. Truly a chance for us all - congregation included - to sing from the heart.

I didn't grasp the significance of the final piece until tonight. Sometimes things have to be put into context before they make sense, I suppose. It first hit me in rehearsal this afternoon, as we finally began to see the whole service coming together. And then, in worship, no one could deny the power of the words. We had just spent the last hour and a half examining Christ's soveriengty over "Every Square Inch." And there, at the end of all things, with the full forces of brass and the organ pouring fourth sound, came these words:

Christ shall have dominion over land and sea;
earth's remotest regions shall his empire be.
They that wilds inhabit shall their worship bring;
kings shall bring their tribute, nations serve our King.

Words fail me. I cannot explain exactly what it was like to be there in the center of that sound, as a member of that body, as but one voice in that mammoth song of praise. The way the sound fills the space is something that can only be experienced, and the feeling of a thousand voices lifted in song cannot be replicated even with the cleverest turn of phrase.

A true and tiny taste of heaven.

What a far cry from where I sit now, not even an hour since the last note sounded. My house is still, and the only sound is that of the keyboard as I type. It's like going from 100 mph to zero in an instant. An hour ago I was surrounded by people I love dearly, singing for all I was worth, basking in the wonder of worship. And now I am alone, with another hectic week ahead.

Letdown is a vicious thing.

But tonight's worship goes on in tomorrow's seeming banality, and - Lord willing - I will carry tonight's songs with me through whatever lies ahead.

We stand in the grand arena of God the Holy One. Skies, seas, and the hills sing out in the shining glory of your Son! Give us the ears to hear it: creation’s song of praise. Lead us to our part, give our voices heart. This is your world: let its music fill our souls!