Language Of The Soul

One way I talk with God is through music.  It's why I sing on the worship team at our church (about the only "church" thing I really do anymore).  And it's where I spend my moments with God, no matter what is going on in my life and leave feeling refreshed and renewed, as if I can handle anything life throws at me.

One thing I've learned about myself though is that it's not just "worship songs" that lead me to God.  In fact, aside from my time spent working on set lists for worship team, I rarely -- if ever -- listen to worship music.  With a few rare exceptions, I find a lot of worship music to be lacking in the artistry that I think God intended for us to use in worship.

I like the music that reaches down deep inside, that stirs the part of your soul that cannot be touched physically.  As I'm thinking about it, it's the intense stuff that speaks the loudest (and intense doesn't necessarily equal loud).  I can hear a song on the radio, that to all outward appearances has nothing at all to do with God, and find God there.  (S)he uses the language of music to speak to me and touch me in ways that no human can.

It sounds weird and mystical and new-age, and maybe it's all of those things, but that is what music is for me, the language of the soul.  It's like making love in the spiritual realm.  It's raw, harsh, and painful at times, but also soft, sweet, and beautiful, and maybe even both at the same time.

This weekend we went to see Trans-Siberian Orchestra with friends from college.  The experience for me was transcendent and I'm still basking in the afterglow.  I know it's all lights and special effects and music and theatre... but it was an encounter with the inner self and God for me.  It was purely sensual; I was on sensory overload when we left the concert.  But it was magic and passion.

I'm not trying to over-spiritualize the concert.  It wasn't all pure goodness and light.  There was an edge as well.  The dancers were sexy; the singers sent shivers up and down my spine.  The female violinist had the ability to make love to the audience without a single touch.  Guitars, drums, everything were LOUD and driving; Lights flashed in a migraine-inducing pattern at several parts... but one thing is certain.  I was alive -- suspended in reality perhaps -- but alive.

And THAT is true worship: an intimate transcendent experience with the lover of my soul!

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