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Sunday, November 28, 2010

Focus




When my time comes to walk the gauntlet
From Here to There
Lord, help me to focus laser-like on the Golden City
Eyes straight ahead
Propelled by the joy that lies before
Undaunted by lurching darkness
Nipping at my feet
Or howling wind-like
‘Gainst my heaven-leaning gait.
                       
Remind me that my feet are shod with the Gospel of Peace
And my head is covered with the Helmet of Salvation
And that all my times, including this unfamiliar time,
Are in your nail-scarred hands
That hold me tight in a grasp as deep as grace and
Unshakable as a Kingdom without end.

©  2009 Nancy Gerst

"When I soar to worlds unknown . . . 
Let me hide myself in Thee."















 
           

Friday, November 19, 2010

Music and the Thin Places

There is a Celtic saying that heaven and earth are only three feet apart, but in the thin places that distance is even smaller. Most often associated with wild landscapes, a thin place is where the veil that separates heaven and earth is lifted and one is able to receive a glimpse of the glory of God. One poet describes it this way:

Thin place,” the Celts call this space,
Both seen and unseen,
Where the door between the world
And the next is cracked open for a moment
And the light is not all on the other side.
God shaped space. Holy.          (Sharlande Sledge)

In this same tradition, thin moments are times when this same source of mysterious power is felt, such as at the birth of a child, the return of a loved one from a faraway place, a moment of deep spiritual awakening. Thin places and thin moments are all around us, yet many people walk through life with their eyes closed, oblivious to the gift of the singing bird, the kind light in the eyes of a friend, the unbridled joy of a child playing in the fall leaves, the sunset and sunrise. So accustomed to God’s lavish love and gifts on a daily basis, we can become numb to his voice and presence.

I was poignantly reminded at a concert at James Madison University how the arts, and particularly music, can be this threshold, at the same time a thin moment and a thin place.  The Monticello String Quartet gave an exhilarating concert at the Forbes Center with a program that included Mozart (K. 421), Mendelssohn (Op. 13), and Jennifer Higdon’s “Impressions.” A one point in the concert I realized I had tears in my eyes, joy in my heart, and no sense of time or place as notes leaped and swirled in enlarging circles, pulling aside the curtain between earth and heaven. I felt a deep bond to the performers, the composers, the instrument makers, yet I was only listening. (Without one to hear, does the falling tree make a sound?). Much like my husband refers to the Longhorns as "our team," by my presence, I felt a part of this team of voyagers, treading where angel footprints are fresh and profuse.

In an age when many use music for entertainment, escape, self-affirmation, or relief of boredom, there is a whole world of music that exists at a higher level---the level where music is the door and moment that transports participants (performer/listener) to places where there is no question whether God exists, only what is he like, as one basks in great and glorious creations of sound that asks all questions and gives all answers with unfathomable depth and height, without words, with all the words of all worlds, in unexplainable soul-expanding breadth.  This is the type of music that, perhaps, isn’t fun, but it is enlarging. It expands one’s spirit to capacities that aren’t possible by imbibing kitsch or dull routine.

I sometimes wonder if this is why some people shy away from the higher art forms, afraid of the unknown horizons to which it might take them. Remember how Lucy asks (in “The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe” by C.S. Lewis) if Aslan is safe? Mr. Beaver answers her, “Who said anything about safe? Course he isn’t safe. But he’s good. He’s the King, I tell you.” That’s how I feel about classical music---it will take you to places that may not be safe (you may have to stretch, grow, learn, explore) but in the end it will be good. Very good.

As I celebrate my birthday this week, I’m thankful that God called me to be a musician, and that I have had the deep and abiding joy of visiting thin places untold times, in many, many thin moments shared with family, friends, strangers, and angels unseen. Until God calls me home, I hope to continually be enlarging the circle of those I bring along for this incredible journey.

Thursday, November 18, 2010

Catching the Holy Whisper



God whispered my name
As the sound of words
Sublimely wrapped
In golden tones of Graceful song
Filled cathedral space
Yet nestled soft as down
In my heart’s sacristy.

Is God‑love this warm?
Is Christ‑joy this knowing?
Is Spirit‑hope this near?
Does that which is far beyond
Find its way to these light‑dappled chambers
Of personal cloistered space
When angelic sounds
Soar high and low?

Blessed music!
Charioteer that swoops low
Endewing faith’s mysteries deep
Into the heart’s corners.


Grace is stirred up, imprinted deep
And the soul’s window
Set ajar to catch the
Echo of Spirited‑song
And things deeper than
Engraver’s page of dots and lines.

Lord, continue to fire the singing messengers
Who possess wisdom and skill
Rejoicing as image‑bearers of the
Full Breathed One
As they breathe life into
Words and melodies
Golden‑aged like finest wine
Or unseasoned yet flavorful
Like daily bread
Baked fresh from harvest's finest grain.

Heavenly Singing Flame!
Chanting troubadors of clay!
Listening gallery of saints and angels!
Music alive and faith‑infused!
Thanks be to God!

                                              Nancy Gerst, 2007