Sunday. There is a kind of darkness, awaiting the Light, to the spirit of Advent. Yet, it is a darkness filled with HOPE. This Hope makes possible a mysterious kind of JOY, which can have the effect of confounding the soul in which it arises. This seems to me to resonate with the "cold and broken alleluia" that the writer recognizes arising from within himself. Written by a Jewish man who explored a number of other religions, it seems to me to reflect not so much a wrestling with faith as a wrestling with hope. Yet, it also seems to be a surrender to that hope, allowing it to raise one up to heights not previously imagined as being possible. What follows is a deeply personal account of how the song affected me, when I spent a lot of time listening to different versions of it back in the summer of 2010. I don't presume that it reflects the thoughts, beliefs or sentiments of the author himself, especially since our beliefs are quite different. Still, in a manner similar to what I described last month (here), I suspect that in some way I am connecting with something, somehow that touched his heart as well. It is with profound respect and gratitude that I remember him in my prayers: Eternal rest grant unto him, O Lord and let perpetual shine upon him. May he rest in peace. Amen.
“I heard there was a secret chord
That David played and it pleased the Lord
But you don’t really care for music, do You?”
Lord,
desperately I have sought to please You, to find the secret to unlock Your
Heart, as the prize which I have won by my own skill and my own talent. Indeed, Your Heart is the ultimate prize I
seek, but I cannot earn it, only receive it as a gift. What You ask in return is not my gifts, my
talents, my accomplishments. Your Heart
desires so much more! You want me. Lord, forgive me for withholding this gift
from You. As poor and pathetic of a gift
as I know this to be, may I seek to give You Your Heart’s desire without reservation.
“It goes like this
The fourth, the fifth
The minor fall, the major lift”
Lord, time and time again I have
failed You. Time and time again I have
fallen. These falls seem so very
insignificant in comparison to the weight of the cross that pushes You to the
ground as You ascend to Calvary, or to the disgraceful crown which pierces Your Sacred Head and drives its
thorns deeper as You hit the ground again and again. Yet, it is my sins that push You to
the ground and pierce You so deep. But,
perhaps, I have said enough about my failure; perhaps I have been too enamored
with my own song. Perhaps I have
forgotten You. It is You who lifts me from the pit of my own destruction. You lift me higher than the distance I have
fallen. You lift me to Your Heart.
“The baffled king composes alleluias”
Lord, Your
Love and Power amaze me. By Your
gracious mercy, You make a song which pleases You and brings You honor and
glory come forth from my weak, broken heart.
I dare not ask how. I only say
thank You.
“Hallelujah.
Hallelujah. Hallelujah.”
Lord, this
is all I have left, my very breath.
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