It is my good fortune to help with music in church. I like that the service is called Informal, which eliminates any anxiety about being perfect. Having spent tedious hours a lifetime ago trying to capture flawless recordings of our songs, I have no interest in impressing anyone. Singing is about joy.
The tunes John and I have
composed lean into the scriptures, and bring more buoyancy than recitation affords. I love to sing them in the car, and while sewing, which entwines those passages into my quilts and travels.
There have been days when I arrived at church feeling out of sorts. Some meaningless interaction with my family got the better of me, and would have kept me stuck, except that the commitment to show up took precedence. A miracle, really. In the process of tuning my guitar,
and going through the words with the other musicians, the orneriness was pushed to the edges.
Lyrics about taking the water of life freely, and going across the Jordan, muted the irritation. Like aloe on burned skin, or a smoothie for an empty belly, feist lost its power. Perhaps it is also because those devilish spirits are themselves repelled by scripture.
A friend once told me that "She who sings prays twice". It turns out that
the choral effect puts me back into sorts.
"In earliest times, when the church was heavenly, there was no Word, because the people of that church had the Word written on their hearts." Secrets of Heaven 3432, Emanuel Swedenborg
