"I Sing Because I'm Happy" Measure 5: Music Tells A Story [GUEST BLOG]

Christians sing. Its what we do. It is arguably a state of being just as it is an action. Jews and Muslims have liturgical poems and melodic prayers. Buddhists and Taoists chant or use ritual music. But I’ve never heard any other theology or belief system sung. I’ve certainly never heard an atheist sing his or her beliefs with joy and tears, rather than parody. I’ve never read a hymn about self-actualization, freethinking, relativism, post-modernity, the problem of evil, or the uncertainty principle that warms my soul. It’s difficult for me to imagine hymns called “Amazing Skepticism,” or “I Asked the Hawking,” or “Let us Prove and Doubt and Question,” or “I Sing Because I’m Skeptical, I Sing Because I’m Free.”

“Theologies that cannot be sung (or prayed for that matter) are certainly wrong at a deep level, and such theologies leave me, in both senses, cold: cold-hearted and uninterested.” – J.I. Packer, God Has Spoken

“A theology that cannot be sung is not worth having.... Authentic Christian faith is not merely believed. Nor is it merely acted upon. It is sung – with utter joy sometimes, in uncontrollable tears sometimes, but it is sung.” –  Reggie M. Kidd, With One Voice: Discovering Christ's Song in Our Worship

There are a couple hymns that I consider in the canon of RUF. If I made you a random mixed CD or a playlist, two things will be on it every time: Anberlin’s “Fin” and Indelible Grace’s “I Asked the Lord,” along with some Page CXVI and MuteMath and Nickelback and all that. Here are the lyrics:

“(Vs. 1) I asked the Lord that I might grow,
in faith and love and every grace, might more of His salvation know,
and seek more earnestly His face.
(Vs. 2) Twas He who taught me thus to pray,
and He I trust has answered prayer,
but it has been in such a way,
as almost drove me to despair. (Vs.
3) I hoped that in some favored hour, at once He'd answer my request,
and by His love's constraining power,
subdue my sins and give me rest. (Vs.
4) Instead of this He made me feel,
the hidden evils of my heart,
and let the angry powers of Hell,
assault my soul in every part. (Vs.
5) Yea more with His own hand He seemed,
intent to aggravate my woe,
crossed all the fair designs I schemed,
cast out my feelings, laid me low. (Vs.
6) Lord why is this, I trembling cried,
wilt Thou pursue thy worm to death?
"Tis in this way," The Lord replied,
"I answer prayer for grace and faith."

(Vs. 7) "These inward trials I employ,
from self and pride to set thee free, and break thy schemes of earthly joy,
that thou mayest seek thy all in Me,
that thou mayest seek thy all in Me." – John Newton, alt. Laura Taylor

Some of us love this hymn. Some of us hate this hymn. I think this is one of the more difficult hymns that we sing as Christians either because we don’t know what it means or because it addresses us as “worm” in the second to last verse.

And yet, many of us move from hating it to crying with it to loving it and maybe eventually even laughing with it. How is this possible?

This hymn captures the very essence of what sanctification means – that fancy theological term that means that Jesus is making us more like Him. And that is beautiful, but it is also very hard, and sometimes it feels like death. If you’re like me you get frustrated because you think that God will answer your prayers in the manner and in the time within which you would like them to be answered, even seemingly “holy” prayers regarding repentance and sin:

(Vs. 1) “I asked the Lord that I might grow,
in faith and love and every grace, might more of His salvation know, and seek more earnestly His face.” (Skip to vs. 3) “I hoped that in some favored hour,
at once He'd answer my request.”

So why does it seem like we pray this Vs. 1 prayer only to be met with Vs. 5: “Yea more with His own hand He seemed,
intent to aggravate my woe”?

You see His goal all along is to make us fall more in love with Him. He yearns to destroy our pride and “hidden evils” and “fair designs” – our “schemes.” And that, so very often, requires circumstances that hurt, precisely because they destroy the very thing we’ve been clinging to for so long when we hurt. It feels like death to die to the idols that kill us.

That’s why it’s so hard for Bilbo to let the ring go at the beginning of The Fellowship of the Ring; it hurts him. That’s why Eustace describes Aslan ripping off his dragonous flesh as “hurting more than anything.” Our idols being ripped from our hands often means that our fingers break.

Maybe you’ve seen this happen between a father and his young son. I hope you have. We’re like children who picked up something and our dad is saying, “Put it down.” We defiantly respond “No.” Again, our Father firmly states, “Son, put it down.” We stand resolute – “No.” But then the Father grabs our hand, and gently repeats, “Son, put it down.” The Father’s touch is what allows us to let go.

Brian has said quite beautifully and eloquently in his previous blogs that Jesus sits in the ashes with us, weeps with us, and then laughs and picks us up to run with Him. We worship a sympathizing Jesus who sings over us – even in the midst of our sin He sings over you and me. Over a delicious beer at Flying Saucer, Devin Colleton, Midtown music leader and co-music leader for RUF, said it this way: “I know now more what I couldn’t have known before” (I certainly hope he meant it to rhyme). Dr. Sinclair Ferguson, head minister of First Presbyterian Church has said “there’s a grace that I never could have tasted if not for the bitterness given to me. Dulcius ex asperis is what we sing, Latin for “sweeter after difficulty.” This is the thorn that Paul talks about – embracing a reputation of weakness.

            Perhaps the band My Epic puts it best:

“I can't sing that song the same way anymore, cause I start laughing at the parts, where I could only weep before. And it sounds sweeter now, because the notes can't ring, until they echo through each wasted year, that You restored to me. I've been, thinking, of how You wept for Lazarus, tears on, Your cheeks, resurrection on Your lips. Sometimes, mercy, can feel like abandonment, but You know all about it.” – My Epic, “Lazarus”

When we begin to understand this concept, that Jesus leads us into darkness, stays with us in the darkness, only to have us emerge on the other side seeking everything in Him, we move from hating “I Asked the Lord” to weeping with it, and then eventually to laughing at the parts where we could only weep before. This meaning is given to the music not by chance, or skill, or association, or tradition, but exists inherently through it.

It’s not so much that music tells a story, so much as it tells the story. Samwise and Tolkien were right when they said that staying in Lothlorien was like “living in a song.” Indeed, the Christian life is exactly the same.

As Christians we love, and sing, and wonder. That is the only response to Jesus’ grace. When we encounter true beauty, when we encounter something as rich and mysterious as music, when we encounter a Savior, our only response is to step into it. Our only response is one of humility, unity, and thankfulness. Our only response is to feel our hearts leap and quiver. It’s more than just a simple argument or apologetic; it’s bigger than a proof or an eloquent syllogism. It is quite beautifully simple – We sing because we’re happy. We sing because we’re free.

“Let the word of Christ dwell in you richly, teaching and admonishing one another in all wisdom, singing psalms and hymns and spiritual songs, with thankfulness in your hearts to God.” – Colossians 3:16

“To Christ the Lord let every tongue, its noblest tribute bring. When He’s the subject of the song, who can refuse to sing? … A thousand men could not compose, a worthy song to bring. Yet Your love is a melody. Our hearts can’t help but sing!” – Laura Taylor, “To Christ The Lord”

Forgive me for abridging John 21:25 a bit – “Now there are also many other songs that Jesus sang. Were every one of them to be written, I suppose that the world itself could not contain the music that would be sung.”

…FOR HIS EYE IS ON THE SPARROW, AND I KNOW HE WATCHES ME.

References: A special thanks to Brian Mesimer (the man, the myth, the legend) for graciously allowing me to use his blog as a publishing medium. To crudely summarize my sources – Alvin Plantinga, “Two Dozen (or so) Theistic Arguments”; Karl Rahner, “Meditations on the Word “God””; Dr. Derek Thomas, “Centerpoint School Introduction to Systematic Theology” – First Presbyterian Church; Timothy Keller, The Reason for God, Counterfeit Gods, “Evangelistic Worship,” “Worship Worthy of the Name,” and http://thegospelcoalition.org/blogs/tgc/2012/08/05/in-defense-of-apologetics/; J.I. Packer, God Has Spoken; Reggie M. Kidd, With One Voice: Discovering Christ's Song in Our Worship; Suites Culturelles, http://suitesculturelles.wordpress.com/2011/12/23/this-is-your-brain-on-music/; C. S. Lewis, Miracles, The Weight of Glory – “Transposition,” Mere Christianity, That Hideous Strength, The Magician’s Nephew; James S. Cutsinger, “The Question of God” – reductio ad absurdum, The Cardinal Difficulty of Naturalism; Johann Wolfgang von Goethe, “The Holy Longing”; Stephen Hawking, “The Origin of the Universe” lecture; Sanjib Mishra, conversation regarding the uncertainty principle; Sinclair B. Ferguson, “The Suffering of Jesus”; Brian A. Mesimer, “Video Game Jesus”; Page CXVI – http://pagecxvi.com; J.R.R. Tolkien, “The Silmarillion”; et. al: John Piper, Jon Foreman, Bob Kauflin, Kevin Twitt, Britton Wood, Sammy Rhodes, David Kay, Brandon O’Brien, Daniel Levitin, Soren Kornegay, Christian Crouch, Mark Dever, Indelible Grace, David Crowder, as well as fellow musicians and artists who have either served in a music leadership role (Brian Mesimer, Ryan Patane, Kelly McLachlan, John Wessel, Stephen Wessel, Tom Walsh) or are passionate about art in music (Ryan Bowen, Adam Fischer, Daniel Howell). A special thanks to Daniel Meier and Chris Faulkner for their thoughtful edits and criticisms.