Sun and Snow
Last night, the bass is pounding in my chest, thousands of hands are raised in the red light, and upturned faces are crowded everywhere around me. I am singing the words to the song I feel in my heart. Everyone is singing. We can't help ourselves. The music takes over. It is a very pure place to be, overwhelmed with sound and the beat and the images of the other concertgoers all around me. I can forget responsibilities and taste the moments fleeting by with singular attention.
I really enjoyed being at the Snowpatrol concert. I got a free ticket and decided to take advantage. So I jumped in the church van (now my mode of transport since red october kicked the oil pan) and headed over to Seattle, and Key Arena. I'd actually never been to a concert at the Key, and it was surprisingly clear, and intimate, at least from where I was sitting.
I want to have a worship experience like that. As I was singing and beating my knee to the bass drum, I lifted my voice to God and thought, "here's my worship, God... this moment, enjoying life, and this sound... thank you so much." It put me in a deeper place than I've been in a long time, even singing the anthems to our God that make the rounds every Sunday. It got me feeling, and that got me to thinking, "why is that?" It was like waking up and realizing you've been in a desert.
Lately I have been going home and lying face down on the floor while listening to chant and plainsong, early polyphonic works and compline services on my ipod. Sometimes I'm moved to tears, or moved to thought. And interestingly enough, Gary Lightbody and the Benedictine Monks have more in common with one another than with Chris Tomlin or Matt Redman. I suspect it's just me. But something moved last night that felt a lot more true than what I'm used to hearting.
I really enjoyed being at the Snowpatrol concert. I got a free ticket and decided to take advantage. So I jumped in the church van (now my mode of transport since red october kicked the oil pan) and headed over to Seattle, and Key Arena. I'd actually never been to a concert at the Key, and it was surprisingly clear, and intimate, at least from where I was sitting.
I want to have a worship experience like that. As I was singing and beating my knee to the bass drum, I lifted my voice to God and thought, "here's my worship, God... this moment, enjoying life, and this sound... thank you so much." It put me in a deeper place than I've been in a long time, even singing the anthems to our God that make the rounds every Sunday. It got me feeling, and that got me to thinking, "why is that?" It was like waking up and realizing you've been in a desert.
Lately I have been going home and lying face down on the floor while listening to chant and plainsong, early polyphonic works and compline services on my ipod. Sometimes I'm moved to tears, or moved to thought. And interestingly enough, Gary Lightbody and the Benedictine Monks have more in common with one another than with Chris Tomlin or Matt Redman. I suspect it's just me. But something moved last night that felt a lot more true than what I'm used to hearting.
Labels: music
11:02 PM
I am so jealous, to get to see Snow patrol in concert for free is a great thing.
Meeting with God at the Snow patrol concert, now that is awesome. It is cool how it isn't just in the Sunday morning rituals that we can worship God, but in every thing we do. The best thing about my job is being able to walk to work in the mornings and having a half an hour to talk with the Lord and admire everything he has made.
Let us worship him with every breath, every task, and in every thing that we do.
PS. Sorry about Red October. Give her my best.
~Harms top