Come, let us adore Him
He has come down to this barren land
Where we live
And all I have to give Him is adoration
Yesterday in a word was celebration. Minus a few hours in the afternoon, the day was filled with songs and praises, musical melodies of worship for the remembrance of the Christmas season–God’s presence on earth in the form of a baby, Jesus.
“I just wish you could have heard it,” Mom tells me after I had mentioned the day being full of Christmas music. “It’s okay,” I said and I truly meant it. I may have experienced a whole day of silent celebration, but it was not a boring or pity one. I am thankful that God led me through my isolation outburst to realize that I can still take part in the fellowship when I choose to look past myself and focus on Jesus instead.
I didn’t realize that church would be a morning of praises and songs, with only a short message at the end. The power point for congregation singing was had to follow, so I stood turned most of the time towards Marcia’s face to read her lips. There were many prepared music sets from the small orchestra to the adult choir, the youth and solos, and the small children ringing their bells…(while simultaneously taking.) 🙂 I would ask Marcia what songs were being played and we were doing good on keeping me somewhat informed. Then there was a men’s quartet that reminded me of the Bill Gaither Band. Their song seemed lively, as I observed people s expressions and the men’s jolly bobbing while singing. Curious, I ask Marcia, “Is their music or is it Capella?” She didn’t get that, too many words, so I shortened it to music or no music. Nope. That didn’t work either, so I gave her the never-mind signal and turned my head. She got my attention a few seconds later and mouthed, “Their singing about Mary and the angels.” Me–“Oh.” 🙂 I thought it was so funny and cute, I had to smile and breathe heavy through my nose like I do in MRI machines when I am trying not to laugh. I returned the lip-reading confusion that evening.
The concert was amazing! The chapel was packed and there was much celebration prepared by the university’s School of Music: the jazz band, different choirs, girls on harps and a small orchestra. A man played the organ, which I found fascinating to watch, and another did a funny piano act during an in-between set up time. Mom told me it was Rudolf the Red-Nosed Reindeer. There were also the congregation hymns, but since it was dark and a slanted floor, I remained seating; at least there I could read the words. Towards the end ,I felt my head drifting down. It had been an hour of sitting there, my eyes were starting to strain from the dark verses light and watching the big screen, I hadn’t eaten anything since lunch and could not keep a tune in mind to avoid pure silence. Finally, a prayer was said and people stood as the light’s came back. Figuring it is over from where I sit, Marcia turns and looks down at me, “Handel’s Messiah.” Totally missed the name and lip-reading in that condition listed, Messiah looked like pizza. “We’re getting pizza?” Marcia shakes her head, finger spells, and gives me the sign for stand. When I do, I see that all the choirs have assembled together and then I understand: “The Hallelujah Chorus.” Me: “Oh.” 🙂
The message at church was from Luke 2, where the angels meet the shepherds. The shepherds just watching the sheep at night probably was pretty quiet–if not silent. I get curious to know if they were frightened more from the radiance in the dark sky than voice; either way, they are told to have peace and celebrate. I find silence frightening. What is more frightening is to know that I use my silence as a crutch to celebration. But with Jesus, how can I be silent? I should be filled with nothing but adoration.