What is it about music, the melodies, the harmonies, and the sound with or without accompanying lyrics that makes us smile or cry?  I just watched a movie in which a child had an amazing gift for music.  In the movie (August Rush) this boy’s face would light up when he experimented with sounds and instruments, to him music was more important than food- in everything around him he could hear melodies and rythms.  The movie made me stop and ponder on this amazing gift of God and how powerful it can be.  I understand that music touches the emotions and that is why it makes such an impact on us, but I think there is something more, something mysterious and awesome about worship music that can’t be described in words because it has so much to do with the spiritual world. 

 

 Here are a few quotes I found on music:

 

“After silence, that which comes nearest to expressing the inexpressible is music” –Aldous Huxley

 

Music is not only tied to hearing and time like the Spirit, it also offers an intriguing “omniscient” openness not found in the other arts. Scruton (in his book Aesthetics of Music) notes that unlike the opacity of a painting, where one color blocks out another, the world of sound is more transparent. We can hear multiple tones at once: “if no sound is too loud I may be able to hear all the contents of that world simultaneously. . . . [I]n music we obtain a God’s-ear view of things” (13). Music offers us a hint of the divine mind not usually encountered. Just as “the Spirit searches all things, yes, the deep things of God,” so too can music depict the searching, instantaneous omniscience of the Spirit.   –Douglas Jones Music as Spirit www.credenda.org/issues/11-5thema.php

 

J.S. Bach said, "All music should have no other end and aim than the glory of God and the soul's refreshment; where this is not remembered there is no real music but only a devilish hub-bub."

 

Next to theology I give to music the highest place and honor. Music is the art of the prophets, the only art that can calm the agitations of the soul; it is one of the most magnificent and delightful presents God has given us. -Martin Luther

 

You are the music while the music lasts. –T.S. Eliot

Just thought I would share some pictures of the 24-7 Int. Prayer Center in Cochabamba, Bolivia.

Maria Elena meets with her friend once a week at her house to pray and intercede together.  Since the two of them were going to be close to the Prayer Center in the morning, they decided to meet there.  After their time of prayer in the Prayer Center, Maria Elena asks me, I can tell such a difference, like a stronger connection here than when we prayed together in my home, why is that?  I gave her a little explanation of “Thin places” but told her that next week’s email devotional is just on that topic.  (I included it below). 

 

After my conversation with Maria Elena, I thought, how much the Church misses out on what God has for us, for not really doing all He says in His Word.  I don’t believe that God doesn’t want to bless Bolivia, but He is waiting for us to act on what He already said in His Word.  Throughout the Bible we see the concept of “Thin places” and its there not just to say, “How interesting”, but to act on it.  So to all the Word of Lifers reading this, (and anyone else who may have a 24-7 prayer room in their church), be apart of what God is doing, make a commitment to intercede in the prayer room at least an hour a week.  Can you imagine how strong the connection between heaven and earth could be in that room if there was at least one person every hour interceding there?  What could happen in your city, if there is constant intercession taking place?  I really believe that all the prayer rooms, houses of prayer and prayer centers that are popping up all over the world is not a fad, but a strategy straight from the heart of God.

 

Taken from Chapter 2 of the book, “Punk Monk” de Andy Freeman y Pete Grieg.

 

Holy Places, Thin Places

The Holy Place, a place of meeting with God, is a major theme running through

the Bible. It begins in Genesis in the Garden of Eden when God walked with

Adam and Eve. The patriarchs, such as Abraham, set up altars to mark places of

divine meetings. Jacob dreamed at the place he later named Bethel (in Hebrew

“the house of God”) and he woke to declare, “Surely the LORD is in this place and

I was not aware of it” (Gen. 28:16). He called that piece of desert “the gate of

heaven,” and commemorated his encounter with God by building an altar.

In the desert, God called to Moses from a burning bush, a physical symbol

of the presence of “I AM” (see Exod. 3:1-6). As Moses led the Israelites out of

Egypt, the people were instructed to set up a “tent of meeting”—the

Tabernacle—where God came to reside, His presence like a cloud. For the

Israelites, this wasn’t like a group hug or having a “pet god”: It was a personal,

brooding, awesome Presence that descended deeply on people as they

worshipped. As Jack Hayford has said, “The Tabernacle is not a great hall for the

assembling multitudes, but a place of personal encounter, where worshippers

bring their covenant offerings.”3

 

When the Israelites made it to the Promised Land, the Tabernacle became

the Temple, a permanent place of prayer and worship. God called for the Temple

to be “a house of prayer for all nations” (Isa. 56:7; Matt. 21:13).

 

In the explosive beginning to his Gospel, John wrote that “the Word

became flesh and dwelt among us” (John 1:14, ESV). Eugene Peterson brought us the

 same verse in a different way: “The Word became flesh and blood, and

moved into the neighborhood” (THE MESSAGE).

 

The holy places of the Celts were sometimes called “thin places” because

they believed that the seen elements of earth and the unseen dimensions of

heaven were more closely connected in such locations. Thin places could be any

place of prayer, from a hermit’s hut to a rugged cliff or beautiful seascape. The

designation of certain places as sacred was not rooted in a pantheistic impulse to

worship the location itself, but rather in a desire for a personal encounter with

God in particular environments.

 

Now many of us might balk at the suggestion that place matters at all.

Isn’t God omnipresent? Doesn’t “sacred space” sound a bit New Age? We must

remember that throughout Church history, the idea of the sacred or holy place is

recurring—not “new” at all. In many Christian traditions, buildings can be

consecrated. In the Anglican Church, a bishop stands outside a new church

building and hammers on the door three times after praying these powerful

words:

Almighty God, we thank you for making us in your image, and to

share in the ordering of your world. Receive the work of our hands

in this place, now to be set apart for your worship, the building up

of the living, and the remembrance of the departed, to the praise

and glory of your name; through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.5

…Within the Hebrew Temple in Jerusalem was a giant curtain that

separated the people from the Holy of Holies, where the presence of God

lingered. When Christ breathed His last on the cross, the curtain was

ripped in two from top to bottom (see Matt. 27:51-52). Then and there, the

divide was broken—God could “tabernacle” with His people, and the

place He would dwell would be our hearts.

 

At His ascension, calling His disciples to take the gospel to the ends

of the earth, Jesus promised, “I’ll be with you as you do this, day after day

after day, right up to the end of the age” (Matt. 28:20, THE MESSAGE). In

fulfillment of that promise, the Holy Spirit came on the day of Pentecost to

Jesus’ followers, who were gathered in a particular place (see Acts 2). We

have no reason to believe that a disciple who had chosen to be elsewhere

that day would have been baptized with the Spirit—the place mattered. Jesus

Himself had told them as much when He instructed them to wait in

Jerusalem (see Acts 1:4-5).

 

Paul declared that our bodies are temples of the Holy Spirit (see 1

Cor. 6:19). Right now, Jesus knocks at your heart’s door, longing to come in

and dwell. And His dwelling is the key. Holy places are not about

buildings or structures—they are about relationship. They are about a God

who, from the beginning of time, has longed to be with His people. Is it so

hard to contemplate that the God who became a man “and moved into the

neighborhood” should still want to work in our lives and our world? Is the

“thin place” such a difficult idea to take in?