Music is the soul's language

I think my life was meant to be an Opera, or perhaps less tragic, at least a musical. Days are better when I have a soundtrack playing to accompany my activities and thoughts. I usually have a tune or lyrics buzzing around in my head. These often seep out in the form of humming, whistling, or even singing. Most days I have a tune de jour. In recent weeks, not surprisingly, it has been the score from Les Mis. My various music players contain two if not three versions of the entire musical. I also have other renditions of the popular songs from the stage show by The Three Tenors, Paul Potts, Susan Boyle, and other famous troubadours. And then there is my version. It is a mash up of all I have heard plus my penchant for making up lyrics when I hit an unfamiliar line.

When I was writing my dissertation I wrote to my "Nate Writing" playlist. It is mostly comprised of adagios as well as a few songs from soundtracks, musicals, and the pop genre that are contemplative in tone. There are a few

I also have a Desk playlist. It's an eclectic group of tunes from classical to jazz to pop. I think there is actually a bit of Garth Brooks there as well. More often than not I don't have any music playing at my desk. There is too much going on to be able to focus on music. But that does not preclude me still humming and singing to myself.

One of my favorite times to listen to music is when I'm riding my bike. Then I listen to my Cycling playlist. When riding I like upbeat tunes that are loud with a driving beat. I love to start a jaunt to AC/DC's classic "Back in Black." I like to pedal to songs by Brittany Spears, Pink, and Linkin Park. And of course, U2, my perineal favorite band.

Sometimes a hymn, anthem, or worship song will grab my attention and follow me through the week. I will wake up singing or humming it. I will contemplate the song throughout the week. I will look up scriptural references and think about the stories therein. I will write about my thoughts. Sometimes those thoughts appear in a blog post, a sermon, a bible study, or professorial ramblings around the dinner table.

When I worked as a "Courtesy Clerk" (yep, I was a bag boy) at Piggly Wiggly in Statesboro I would ask God to give me a song for the day. Back then my choice in inspirational music was a bit narrower than it is now. There was not nearly as much choice. Amy Grant was just getting her start with songs like "Father's Eyes." The Gaither Vocal Band was also big. One of my favorites was the good old gospel music from the Oak Ridge Boys. Even though I was around people a good bit of the day, there were also many moments spent bagging groceries in silence, walking back from a car after loading it with a cart full of purchases, or mopping floors at the end of a shift. During those times I would hum or sing that song. It would keep me focused and upbeat for the inevitable travails that came along from working with people in the world of customer service.

Oddly, and sadly, I'm the only non-musician in my immediate family. I took piano lessons briefly when I was younger. But a combination of my laziness and a lenient teacher resulted in me not learning to play. I love to sing in choirs when my schedule allows. I tried to get Karen to teach me piano and years later flute while we were in seminary. Those lessons didn't stick either. Recently I obsconded with a bass guitar that was found buried deep in the back of a closet at work. It belongs to an alumnus that now lives in Charleston. It is now in our music room at home. Ever since Gene Simmons doned his makeup and became the God of Thunder in the show band Kiss I have wanted to play bass. My friends in high school toyed around with the idea of starting a band. Yet only one of us played an instrument. Most bands don't get very far with only a drummer! While most of my friends played air guitar, I played air bass.

My intention is to learn how to play that bass. We'll see how that goes. I've enjoyed playing around with it, though I don't have a clue how to actually make music with it. My son has been playing around with it too. Perhaps he can teach me how to play. That would be fun!

Our house often sounds like a music school. Natalie and Nick both play piano. Natalie also plays flute, piccolo, recorder, and guitar. Nick plays trumpet and electric guitar. Karen was a piano major in college and played flute in band. She was a drum major for two years in high school. She is now the organist at church. Her whole family has music degrees. Family gatherings with the Fields clan are inspirational. I've learned to enjoy the playing and singing, faking my way through in the midst of such incredible musicians. The most special times are when we sing the doxology as blessing before mealtimes. The harmonies are incredible, everyone singing their chosen part. It's heavenly, reminiscent of my days as campus minister at Wesleyan College in Macon, a woman's school, where meals were served family style and prior to dining the angelic voices of assembled students sang the doxology, filling that grand hall with joyous thanksgiving.

When in college I spent lots of time in the music building with Karen. She had to practice piano, flute, and many other instruments she was required to learn for class. The hallways were always filled with muffled sounds of music seeping beneath the closed doors of practice rooms. I love to hear folks playing music that they love. I enjoy watching Karen play too. It harkens back to my childhood when mom would play the piano after we had all gone to bed. Music has filled my life since I was a child. I suppose it always will.

I have often wondered why music seems to speak in ways other forms of communication don't or perhaps can't. While words are extremely important in communicating meaning, music goes beyond the head, speaking directly to the heart, to the spirit, to the soul. When words and music combine in perfect union, the result is a form of communication that speaks to the whole person. When such melodious messages are received, the lesson lingers, lodging deep within and emerging to consciousness again and again. Words heard in passing can bring to mind the accompanying tunes. Snippets of music may bring to mind the lyrics, the narratives that are meshed in the notes and the harmonies.

I don't think I'm the only one who feels this way. Can you imagine Christmas without music? Music was present throughout the story of Jesus' birth. His mother Mary and his aunt Elizabeth both erupted in song with news of the pending birth of the Christ child. A heavenly choir of Angela announced his birth to a group of shepards - not exactly a group that I would imagine attending the first performance of The Messiah! My wife begins listening to Christmas music the week of Thanksgiving until the New Year. Most of our theology is learned through hymns and worship music. It is no wonder that for many the most loved book of the Bible is the Psalms, the lyrics of worship. Psalm 33 begins,

1 Sing joyfully to the Lord, you righteous;
it is fitting for the upright to praise him.
2 Praise the Lord with the harp;
make music to him on the ten-stringed lyre.
3 Sing to him a new song;
play skillfully, and shout for joy.

After watching a musical with our family, my son Nick once exclaimed, "it's a pity no one breaks out in song anymore!" I quite agree! Though if you are around their church youth group you are apt to feel you are a part of a live musical or a flash mob. If Nick could hear the music that is playing in my mind most of the time he might not be so disappointed. But knowing him like I do he has similar tunes running around inside his head as well. My life may not be an opera, but it is quite musical!