When Music Helps You Live Beyond Yourself
by bleedingoutloud on 01/6/2012As Aaron describes it, the idea for a new liturgy was birthed at the end of a really bad day. It grew out of the need to be pastored in the midst of a dark moment. And it has done just that in our home. Here’s what I mean.
Lately, things have been very hard in our house. In September, our five year old started kindergarten; five days a week, all day long. She’s pretty exhausted by the whole thing and has become an innovator at being cranky. Meanwhile, our two year old has recently begun testing us. All that talk about being great parents, forget it. Most of the time, we’re just trying to make it through the day. Loving your kids well is not easy.
Then a few months ago, Trisha sent me an email on a Wednesday afternoon. The kids had put her over the edge, and she didn’t know how much more she could take. Would I please pray for her? When I got home, I could see why. The oldest was arguing while the youngest had attached herself like a koala bear to Trisha’s ankle, whining louder and louder to keep pace with the escalating volume of the argument. Dinner was boiling over on the stove. I needed to create a diversion.
“Girls, come here I want to show you something that I got today.” I went over and sat on the kitchen floor and pulled out my laptop.
“What is it?” our five year old asked?
“Music,” I said. “My friend Aaron gave me this new music that he wrote. You might recognize it. We sing some of these songs at church.” I hit play. By now, the two year old had released Trisha’s leg from her kung fu grip and had joined us at the foot of the stove.
Soon the music was building, and it had a driving beat with big bass drums thumping. Boom, boom, boom. They both started bouncing and giggling, and I got them playing air drums. We were keeping the beat and they started trying to dance in place while keeping the air drums going. The chorus started through the second time and I tried to get them to sing the words with me:
“Oh, you love your children. Love your children. Every daughter, every son. Oh, you love your children. All your children. Help us see you in each one.”
Then through the dancing chaos, I noticed that Trisha was kneeling down watching us from the other end of the room with tears in her eyes. “You love your children. All your children. Help us see you in each one.” It was one of those holy moments that you happen upon by accident in the most ordinary times and places. We hadn’t laughed and delighted in one another’s presence like that in a while.
In the span of a song we were apprehended by something beyond ourselves and became aware that the ground we were standing on, impatient and absent of grace as it seemed, was holy and full of God’s buoyant love.














