The Legacy of Music

Last night at rehearsal, I got so overwhelmed by how sweet God was to give us all the gift of music. I love music. Music has always been a core part of who I am...my earliest memories of what my family WAS include music. It was always an understood, integral piece of our identity. In my mind, there were three major components that defined us: we were Christians...we loved laughter...and we had to have music.

When we were little, I would lie in bed as my mother played piano in the living room. She was the church pianist, and she would practice the music for the coming week. Her music was like my security blanket, and as I drifted off to sleep her music held me, covered me, reassured me that all was the way it was supposed to be. My dad, too, would play the guitar, sitting on a stool in our bedroom doorway at night. I would slide in and out of sleep, and the guitar was always there, my dad humming softly. Later, my sister and I learned that we loved singing together; we knew, only as sisters could, how to blend our voices together, harmonizing almost instinctively with each other. It was a common bond, something that to this day I share only with her.

My favorite memory of our family singing together is sharply bitter-sweet. During the last week of mom's life she was in Grace Home, a precious Hospite place that allows the dying to spend their last days in a beautiful environment with their family. During the first few days, she was completely coherent, alert, aware of everything. My dad, two sisters, and I would gather around her bed, and we would sing. Whatever anyone started, we would all join in - "Great Is Thy Faithfulness," "The Old Rugged Cross," "Amazing Grace," "It Is Well With My Soul" - all the hymns of her childhood that spoke of God's love, mercy, and faithfulness. That was so typical of my mom - even in her last hours, she wanted nothing more than for all of us to focus on loving and praising God. She had new favorites, too, and we would wait for her to start one and then we'd all join in: "Thank You," "Lord I Give You My Heart," "Your Grace Still Amazes Me," and "You Are My King."

God, in His indescribable sweetness, allowed her to stay alert enough to go to the dedication of the grounds of our new church building. We rode there from the Hospice Grace Home in an ambulance (she was so very excited, it was her first ambulance ride, and they put the sirens on just for her), and she was wheeled in on a hospital bed, clutching her Bible and smiling and waving at everybody. She was really relieved to have made it to the dedication, and I believe that's what had kept her going until that point. We planned the trip as if we were taking a major vacation...she got a new hat, picked out an outfit, and we planned her makeup, all from her Hospice room. And on what was the last day that she was awake and conscious, she worshiped God at church, in the middle of the steel framework of our new building. She watched as Jennifer, my sister, sang "I Know My Redeemer Lives," and tears streamed down my mother's face as she raised her hands to God, eyes closed, nodding in affirmation. Again, music built the memories that would forever stay with all of us.

For my mother, music was a gateway into the presence of God. Hours later, she slipped into a coma. A few nights later, the nurse that was monitoring us told us that my mother was taking her last breaths. We gathered around her bed, and my father held her hand. And as she breathed slower and slower, we began to sing. We sung "It Is Well With My Soul" and "Your Grace Still Amazes Me" because that's how she would have wanted it. She wanted God to be praised in all things, even in her death, and so we sang her into heaven, and we worshipped.

Not a Sunday goes by when I'm in our church building now that I don't think about my Mom. I think about where her hospital bed was on that Sunday morning. I think about my sister on the stage, singing her heart out as Mom was slipping away. And I wonder how people can come into the presence of God and choose not to worship. It makes me incredibly sad that there are people that come, and they are so focused on other things that they miss that connection with God!

To me, focusing on God with music is an indescribable privilege. I want to LIVE in those moments when the music is connecting me to my Father...that's as close to heaven on earth as I can get. And when I'm standing next to people I love - my dad, my sisters - and they're there with me, singing, harmonizing, WORSHIPPING - well, that's my version of heaven.

And I'm pretty sure that's how God intended "corporate worship" to be for all of us. So many times I wonder if we've disappointed the Spirit of God with our worship service. Does He wait in anticipation for us to open the doors of the sanctuary, hovering over the stage and the seats of the congregation, searching the hearts of those filing in for hearts filled with worship? Does He feel loved enough when we're done with the service? I hope He does...I feel so indebted to God for giving us this glorious gift of music. I don't want Him to ever feel like He's wasted it on us. I am grateful to my parents for the legacy they have left me and my sisters - what a gift they gave us, to teach us that in all things, we worship. In all things, we praise. In all things, we sing.