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Out of the Bog

            He appointed some of the Levites as ministers before the ark of the Lord, to celebrate and to thank and praise the Lord God of Israel: (I Chronicles 16:4)

          I used to think that there was something somehow wrong with using someone else’s words, or any sort of “aid” in worship and thanksgiving. It bothered me that my attempts were somehow false because they were not original, and if not original, then how could they truly express my gratitude or my praise? This wasn’t an idea that plagued me all the time. It was usually when I was alone and quiet. It’s somewhat the same problem I have with wishing someone “Happy Birthday!” or asking “How are you?” They are words that come out of our mouths but our hearts may not be in them. It seemed that when Saul and Elisha each had someone come to play music to calm them, that they were somehow weak.

          Part of the problem is that I know how powerful music is. I’ve felt the stirring in the blood brought on by passionate music, and the calming influence of softer pieces. I’ve listened to writers as they discuss the playlists they use to help them write. Music is like a drug.

          I haven’t thought expressly along these lines recently, but I’ve found myself in Saul’s shoes. As the evening approaches, and I’m getting a little tired from the work and rush of the day (how I ever held a full-time job is beyond me,) I find my thoughts and emotions sagging. Important work has not yet begun – I’ve written nothing by my blog all day, yet my spirit feels (as one of my characters would describe it) trapped in a bog.

          Generally, I have tried to listen to instrumental music as I write. It’s hard to type what a character is doing or saying while the words of “Great Is Thy Faithfulness” or “Eye of the Tiger” are washing over one’s mind. But lately, I’m finding that even if I stop writing to sing along with “Great Is Thy Faithfulness,” I am becoming Saul and Elisha. I need that stimulus to pull me out of the bog.

          I’ve been here before. I know I should begin the day with something that will let my heart soar Godward. I know rousing music would probably perk me up in the afternoon, and I’m relearning that it can silence the demons of early evening. The monastics of the Middle Ages understood some of this. They set what were called canonical hours, observed  roughly every three hours as follows:

·         Matins (nighttime)

·         Lauds (early morning)

·         Prime (first hour of daylight)

·         Terce (third hour)

·         Sext (noon)

·         Nones (ninth hour)

·         Vespers (sunset evening)

·         Compline (end of the day)

There have been times that I’ve thought it might be nice to move into a monastic community and to have my schedule set for me, but 1) I’d rebel, and 2) it’s just a means to escape responsibility for making decisions myself. But I’m finding I need the positive input, the break from the task list, and from social media’s drag on my soul.

So, this morning, I’m thankful for music, and for the many other things that God has made available that can and do draw us outward and upward, or “higher up and further in” as C.S. Lewis described it. I’m thankful that we are not required to do it all ourselves, but can travel with others who know how to make tunes, and poems, and pictures that those of us who are less talented in those areas can use in our ascents.

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