Hope Sings

On April 14, 1912 at 11:40 p.m., the largest, most luxurious ocean liner to ever sail slipped beneath the surface of the northern Atlantic. Survivors of the Titanic remembered the ice-cold water, the gasps of the dying, the darkness. And music. They say the band played Nearer My God to Thee to the very end.

In 1944, a group of American POWs spent the last year of the war in a Japanese prison camp. Conditions were brutal, degrading and inhumane. One morning, as the prisoners were being led out to work in the fields, a fellow from Illinois started humming America the Beautiful. Soon, every man in the camp was humming the tune every day as they endured the interminable labor and heat. The guards remained oblivious to the defiance of the gesture. All they could do was enjoy the tune and wonder why these particular prisoners seemed impervious to the conditions of the camp.

On April 9, 1939, more than 75,000 people gathered on the Mall in Washington, D.C. They had come to hear the internationally famous singer, Marian Anderson. Ms. Anderson had been denied the use of Constitution Hall because she was black. President and Mrs. Roosevelt along with Secretary of the Interior, Harold Ickes, cleared the way for her to perform at the base of the Lincoln Memorial. She sang, My Country ‘Tis of Thee, but changed one word of the lyrics. Rather than, “Of thee I sing,” she sang, “Of thee we sing.” And all 75,000 in attendance did.

In the spring of 33 A.D., Jesus and his disciples met to share a meal. Their last. His gentle hands washed their dirty feet. He took bread, broke it, and blessed it. A cup of wine was passed around the table. He taught them one last lesson. Then, according to Mark, they sang a hymn. He could hear the plodding footsteps of the soldiers snaking their way through the garden. He could already feel the sting of the whip, the ache of the nails, the thrust of the spear. And yet, Jesus sang.

When the kings of Judah and Israel asked Elisha for his prophesy about an impending battle (2 Kings 3:15), he said, “Bring me a harpist.” When Saul, king of Israel, was tormented by an evil spirit, David played the lyre and relief came to Saul (1 Samuel 16:23). Paul drew a tight connection between the peace of Christ and the language of music: Let the peace of Christ rule in your hearts . . . as you sing psalms hymns and spiritual songs (Colossians 3:15-16). From Jubal in Genesis to David in the Psalms to Paul and Silas in prison, all through scripture and all through the ages, when people faced uncertain times or had reached the limits of their endurance, they turned to music. Why?

Because music is the medium of hope. Like a winter weary songbird at the first sign of spring, hope sings. When the ship is sinking, sing. When life imprisons, sing. When oppression reigns, sing. When a cross awaits, sing. Music can remind you of the man who walked on water and stilled the storm. It will help you remember the God who releases prisoners, frees the oppressed and raises the crucified.

Years ago, I knew a man, a teacher, who loved numbers and music – Dwight Love. Though he failed to turn me into a mathematician, we found a common denominator in song. He loved to sing. Dr. Love was diagnosed with cancer and put up a valiant fight. Cancer won the battle. But Doc Love won the war. I was in the room the afternoon he drew is last breath. He was surrounded by his wife and three daughters. And they sang. Beautifully. Hopefully. They sang him out of this life into the next.

I don’t know for certain, but I like to think that as soon as his soul slipped from here to there, a chorus of thousands upon thousands took up the tune – that the last song he heard on earth was the first song he sang in heaven.

We will all sing there and, with our new equipment, we will all sing beautifully. Except we won’t be singing about the things we hope for. We will sing of what we have received. We will sing to the One who turned our hope into victory, our troubles into triumph, and death into life.