Monday Morning Music Ministry

6-27-11

Casual thoughts about random memories have brought me to a new way to see Jesus.

I was talking with a friend recently about travel memories. Many of my trips to Europe have been intertwined with music. I have made a couple trips specifically to attend music festivals, so that’s a gimme. There were a couple of examples where, travel-weary, I stumbled on concerts being offered of favorite pieces. Those performances – one in the little Alpine village of Berchtesgaden, one in an ancient cathedral in Paris – were amazing medicine at the time, and amazing memories still. Mozart in Salzburg. If you know Mozart’s music, your jealousy can officially start now.

Except as music touches our souls, these were not specifically spiritual moments. And Travel is a creature unto itself, as travel junkies know. In my conversation, memories of great meals, great wines, and great friends also were shared.

But one memory has symbolized a truth; that is, once I heard something in a new way, and it made me see things in a new way. A hotel where I stay in Rome is near the Basilica of Saint Paul “Outside the Walls,” so called because it traditionally is regarded as where St Paul was buried after martyrdom, and its location was outside what used to be the system of walled defenses. I visit that church, with its courtyard beneath a giant mosaic of Christ on His throne, brilliantly reflecting tiles of real gold on sunny days.

Inside, once, I was deep in prayer and I gradually was conscious of music – not organ music; there was no service. It was voices, young voices, and a guitar; it was language I didn’t know, but the song was a praise and worship tune from the US, I did know quite well. The soft music echoed through the huge basilica. Was I hearing angels?

I let my eyes adjust, and saw that it was a group of school children, seated in several pews, and their leader playing the guitar. I later learned they were from South America. A Christian group, felt led to break out in song, worshiping in quite an appropriate place.

This could be one more travel tale, or a music connection. But I have realized a greater lesson. I was from one continent, on another continent, encountering this group from a third continent. I spoke English; they spoke Spanish; we were in Italy. We were strangers. Yet a worship song, no matter the words or tune but because of the One being worshiped, made me feel as close as family.

A few moments earlier I had been deep in prayer in a special setting. I probably would not have thought I could possibly feel closer to Jesus. Well, I did, instantly, when those kids softly started singing… and it wasn’t just their voices, or that He suddenly showed up. He was always there. He is always there, and here. We always can try to see Him a little better.

There are a million ways to do this. When you see things in threes – traffic lights, for instance – be reminded of the Trinity and thank God for His Holy Spirit. We have already talked about Father’s Day, and the thought we should have about our Heavenly Father. And so on.

But then I thought of something that might not be accurate theology, but is a pretty good road map for my “walk.” It is also in the category of Jesus always being around us, and how we can look or listen a little better to find Him. Jesus, at the Last Supper, took the bread and wine and, speaking symbolically in my view, referred to them as His Body and Blood, “broken for us and shed for us.” He then shared the meal.

Is it possible that Jesus did not only mean, “when you gather in a religious service once a week or once a month, and consecrate the elements, do this in remembrance of Me”? But might He also have meant, “As oft as you eat something like bread or drink something, let them be reminders that I broke my body for you, and I shed my blood for you.”

I try to keep to that! And many other reminders during every day, who Jesus is; and what He has done; and how close He is. Try that yourself! Even casual thoughts and random memories will take on new meanings. Where’s Jesus? You’ll see.

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Here is another, and random, example of cross-cultural spiritual kinship. The Boy’s Choir of Sofia, Bulgaria, singing the the rousing “Gloria!” by Vivaldi.

Click: Gloria!