This is the first time I have ever re-posted an old blog. But I just can't help myself. In my last blog I said that I took a walk through my past and that means that I read some of my old writings. This particular blog made me laugh when I consider how far I've come.
As of late I have been so completely overwhelmed with the power of music that it might be fun for others to also see where I used to be. I was so resistant to having my heart respond to the music in any way, but especially resistant to allowing it to bring me to tears. Yeah...I've come a long way.
Written in November 2013
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Even as a younger kid, I never liked all the crying and emotional stuff associated with certain things in life. Like "cry-movies." I hate cry-movies. Why would I want to watch a movie that I know will make me cry? That's stupid. Yet girls seem to gravitate toward movies like those. What a bunch of pansies.
In high school, a friend of mine forced me to listen to my first country song. "Johnny's daddy, was taking him fishing, when he was eight years old. Little girl came through the front gate, holding a fishing pole. . ." Turns out the boy is upset that his dad invited the girl and says, "Don't take the girl." A few years later, the boy and girl are held at gunpoint and the boy offers the robber anything he wants but says, "Don't take the girl." A few years after that, they're married and having their first baby but there are complications and he falls to his knees and begs God to take him but whatever He does, "Don't take the girl." Are you freaking kidding me? Who writes stuff like this? Why?! Why do people want to make other people cry? That's kind of sick.
I distinctly remember Week of Prayer meetings that we had when I was in middle school. The speaker was finishing the week and saying stuff and making all the girls cry because it was apparently so ridiculously beautiful or something; oh, and he also had some music playing in the background. My natural instinct was to put up a firewall of sorts and ignore the emotional atmosphere in the room. And I sat there, cold as ice, inwardly scoffing at the emotional weakness of the other girls.
I noticed people seemed moved to tears when they heard a beautiful song with touching lyrics or a quiet melody backing a speaker. Do you want a productive alter call? Have some sappy hymn music playing in the background; that always pulls the suckers in. When I'd see all those people going up to the front and crying and all that, I would roll my eyes and think, "Whatever. This isn't even real. You guys are just moved by some stupid music and when the music stops everything will go back to the way it has always been; you guys are idiots." Yup, I would think all of that. And more.
My reflex instinct (because I was naturally unaffectionate and guarded) was to resist the temptation to be moved by music. If I wanted to respond to an alter call it would be because I wanted to and had thought it out, not because the music was somehow affecting my heart. Yuck.
You know why? Because I decided that tears and other emotional responses were weaknesses. And in my life, I needed to be tough and not let my circumstances result in pathetic weeping moments. Tough people don't cry. Tough people maintain their strong form in the face of emotional roller coasters. Tough people don't let a tender moment get the better of them. Tough people maintain their solidity while everyone else is still trying to find their footing. Weak people suck. And tough people kick butt. And what you think is all beautiful and moving was just an illusion created by sneaky sound waves; it's not real.
Can you imagine my shock and surprise when I discovered that I was almost entirely misguided in my perceptions?
It turns out that God invented music. Heaven will have constant singing. Revelation 4 talks about how some strange creatures will break out in a "Holy Holy Holy" song and 24 elders will fall down before God, throw their crowns before Him and worship Him. They do all that when the song commences. I'm having a hard time imagining that their response isn't real. They fall down and worship. They don't bow their heads, or bend at the waist, or genuflect; they FALL DOWN.
But I resist the urge to move when the music is cued. I resist the weakness of the human heart. I stand firm. Wow. I am simultaneously ashamed and yet afraid. I'm ashamed that I have spent so many years of my life resisting the POWER of music because I didn't think it was real; elevating my own strength above the workings of the spirit. How arrogant and proud. But then I'm also afraid because if I allow the music to penetrate my core, I may become one of those people who are always weeping when the music is played.
In a church I attended 10 years ago, there was a woman that always cried when she sang. Always! She could not make it through a stupid song without breaking down and then squeaking out the words. It would make me so uncomfortable! I would see her name in the bulletin and would be like, "Oh great; the cry-lady is going to try and sing again." I would literally sit there and pray that God would give her strength to get through the song without falling apart. I didn't pray for her sake, but for mine! Good grief, woman! Get a grip!
But listen to this: I was practicing with the praise team a Friday night recently and literally couldn't get through my music. It struck a cord with me and moved my entire spirit to worship without words; just spirit communicating with Spirit. It was beautiful and I was in a place with God where He was speaking to me and I was responding to His words and His love. The song ended and I could breathe again and my first thought was, "Well, shoot, I'm the cry-lady." All of the sudden I was disturbed by the fact that I couldn't get through a single, stupid song without being overcome by the power of it. Granted, that was during a period of painful struggle, but still. I told a dear friend that I could hardly sing with the praise team without falling apart and she said, "That's okay. Then you will praise Him with your tears."
And I am reassured that praising God with my tears is real. I dare say that is is the most real thing I can do. Now I'm not saying we should all rub our eyes with onions so that we cry every time we pray, as if there's some magical property in tears that somehow allows us to transcend to greater spiritual heights. I'm just saying that worshiping God is not a mental thing. It's not intellectual, it is Spirit. It is our spirit which is everything we are inside; all our emotions, our happiness, our sadness, our hopefulness, our repentance. It's everything that we feel and it is the part of God that lives in us.
Remember the lady with the expensive perfume? There is no record of her speaking a single word to Jesus and yet Jesus immortalized her in the minds and hearts of all future generations because she praised Him with her tears. She praised Him and thanked Him and submitted herself to Him. And not a single word was spoken on her behalf.
I just want to end there. In that room, with Mary at His feet, loving Him with her tears, unaware of onlookers, her Spirit intertwined with God's Spirit in a moment of free and overwhelming worship. Now that was real.
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