The Choir Loft

   Sunday mornings I can be found sitting up in the choir loft of our local church.  I enjoy our slightly rambunctious, at times off key, normally enthusiastic singing.  In two rows, we divide into our parts, soprano, alto, tenor, and bass.  I am an alto and I’m used to hearing my part and the tenors behind me.  But, I know that what I hear is completely different from what our audience hears.  When we sing, the music travels out and it blends differently that if you are right there in the mix.

  A little girl joined us last Sunday, one of the choir members was helping to look after her.  Standing on the pew with her blond hair in two braids and silver bows, I saw little childish hands pull out a hymnal and flip through the pages.  We were all holding our choir books, she was simply modeling what we were doing.  But, how precious it was to see her flipping through the book and I watched her and recognized the titles of the songs that she was staring blankly at.  Then, the singing started.  The jaw in that round face dropped. “It sounds different up here?”  Big eyes looked at me and her head nodded.  She stood there turning round and round, taking it all in.

   I had two thoughts standing there, with a big grin plastered on my face.  Who could help it, she was so cute!  One thought was I wonder if that will be me one day.  Standing there, every tongue confessing that Christ is Lord, worshipping with the family of God – how it will sound when I am in the midst of the crowd!  My other thought was how quickly this little girl was modeling our behavior.  What a reminder that even without any formal lessons, we need to be cognizant of our behaviors with these children around us. 

   I hope one day to see her singing with great praise. 

Music

   The last vestiges of a cold is hanging on stubbornly, so I want to pencil these words (metaphorically) before the cold meds kick in and kick me out. Friday evening found me, sniffles and all, in the sanctuary of a local church listening to the Moody Bible Institute Women’s Concert Choir and Hand Bell Ensemble. The music was beautiful, every word and phrase carefully planned. The attention to the details, the endings of the words, the focus on the director, it led to a wonderful overall creation of sound. But, in the midst of that beautiful collection of music, it was something else that struck me. The presence of the choir was like a sweet wind that cleared out the cobwebs of a musty place. You know that feeling when spring first has a nice warm day and you open the windows, the winter air is finally blown away and the spring smells and freshness comes in. This was the impression I had watching this choir as they performed their pieces.

   The musicians, they have held a special place throughout time. They have heralded eternal moments with angelic songs, marched with trumpets, made the processional way with harps, lyres, and cymbals. Psalms 81 spoke of the song, “Sing for joy to God our strength; shout aloud to the God of Jacob! Begin the music, strike the timbrel, play the melodious harp and lyre.” Sing, shout, strike, play – these onomatopoeia type words can also be heard in laughter, prayer, and praise. It is not always the beautiful concert music that is so carefully planned and expressed that praise can be found. It can be in the coo of a baby, the sigh of a sleeper, the long smell at a fresh baked pie, the ummmmm of a savory bite enjoyed. These are all praise, they praise the Maker, the Provider.
   Make music, sing a song.

Christmas – Choir

   Here in town, an annual event is held every December, the Holiday Stroll. The downtown main street is shut off from all boot foot traffic, and the town comes out to kick-off the holidays. Music, hot chocolate, window displays, and many people come out to meet, greet, and enjoy the festivities. As a kick off to the event, local choir kids sing from the second story of a local bank down into the lobby. Microphones set to project voices, they sing carefully practiced choir pieces of jazz, traditional carols, and some beautiful arrangements of acapella music.

   Listening to that music, watching with others as our faces turn up to the young people standing and singing, I was reminded of how the faces of shepherds must have been turned up on that far ago night. An angel appeared to shepherd and brought them the news that a Savior had been born. Imagine that as the sky filled with a host of angels singing and praising God, how the faces of the shepherds were tilted up. Jaws dropping down, eyes reflecting the light around them, shocked sighs escaping their mouths. Just imagine the excitement on the part of the angel choir. Perhaps they had practiced long for this moment, with joy and exhilaration they stared down at the shepherds. This was the moment they had waited for, the performance of an eternal lifetime.
   As we hear various school programs, listen to the concerts and carolers, may our music reflect the joy of that concert, heralded in a shepherd's field.

Memories

Recently I had the privilege of attending a high school choir concert, and though I enjoyed it very much I found my mind wandering past the music and into my memories. I was remembering my own high school performances, with band- not choir. I was remembering the friends and laughter, inside jokes and camaraderie. Trips and competitions, stories and band parents, rehearsals before and after school…. As the seniors lined the stage in their choir robes and fabulous high heels (sorry guys, your shoes aren’t as catchy), I hoped that they took a moment to really take in the moment and form the memory. I have similar moments, standing looking at a crowd after a performance, looking over the band from the sidelines as we in the pit watched them practice the same moves over and over and over and over. Giggly moments where we tried so hard to remain straight faced and other times when our directors made us so mad, they were all part of the memory.

The choir did a great job, and I thank them for the music and the accompaniment as I journey down the lane.