Deep Things

There's a line in Shakespeare's Much Ado About Nothing that says, "I were but little happy, if I could say how much."

I feel like that very often. Not just about happiness, but about any truly deep emotion. It's pretty easy for me to dash off an amusing little anecdote, and I totally enjoy it, but sometimes I want to write about something more, I don't know, substantial, and then I find that my words sound tinny, like cheap windchimes, when what I want them to sound like is a full-scale symphony orchestra.

For example. I really want to write about how much the music of Handel's Messiah means to me, and what it does to me when I hear it, but I just...can't. I went to a performance last night, a "Messiah Singalong" at a local church. I didn't have a musical score, so the singing along part was a tad difficult, but I just thoroughly enjoyed the evening anyway. There is something irresistible, something heart-breakingly beautiful to me about Handel's Messiah, but I can't put it into words, and it's so frustrating, because I want to!!

I remember one time, long ago, being moved to tears by the "Worthy is the Lamb" chorus. The power of the voices, the words, the music--I don't know how anyone can hear it without being shaken up inside. And when the opening bars of the "Hallelujah Chorus" start playing, I get all excited, because somehow I just know that God himself is listening in, and he's feeling pretty stoked on it too.

Listening to the soaring voices and music last night, I'm glad I had the opportunity to forget, at least for a little while, all the Christmas presents I still haven't bought, the Christmas cards I haven't sent, the frayed edges of my life that seem determined to keep unraveling despite all my efforts to keep them together, and instead focus on the One person that has never been unfaithful to me, never left me alone, and never stopped loving me, even when He gets so little of my heart in return.

There's this awfully cliche'd little phrase we hear at Christmas time: "Jesus is the reason for the season." Well, cliche'd it may be, but true it still is (as Yoda might say). Jesus is the reason for the season. At any rate, he's the only reason that I haven't run away screaming from Christmas all together. It's a stressful time of year for me, all too often. But when I have the rare chance of sitting down and just enjoying his presence--as I did last night--Christmas becomes awesome all over again.