free to be

Recently I sat in a crowded auditorium, snuggled up against Kyle, listening to a Christmas concert by Andrew Peterson and friends. It's the most amazing show to be a part of. If you've been to one of Andrew's concerts you know it's not about the lights or special effects or even the people singing. It's about Truth & passion in the form of song.

Sara Groves was a featured guest this particular evening. There was a tremendous amount of talent that quietly took the stage over the course of the night but she told a story and sang a song that I cannot seem to forget. Sara described being inspired to write a song entitled "Why it Matters". She wrote the song after learning about a man who lived in a war torn country. She told us that every day he would get up, as war waged around him and he would take his solitary place on the street. While destruction ensued all around him he played his cello, day after day. It was his peaceful protest: a thing of calm beauty in the chaos; a bit of life among the dead in spirit. After sharing the story with us she went on to sing 'Why It Matters'. The song references the man and his music but uses the symbolism of a tall statue that stands like a pillar in the center of town. It was the kind of song that takes you to a different place. As I sat in the auditorium that night, I felt like I could see the silhouette of this man playing his cello on war torn streets; with shattered buildings and shattered lives in the streets around him. For some reason this song penetrated every bit of my being. What motivated him to get up every day to take his solitary place on the street? Does one man and his cello bring peace to his war enraged country? Does his song make the slightest difference in the grand scheme of things?

As the story plays out Sara sings, "with it's protest of the darkness; with it's beauty, how it matters.
How it matters."

Since that night, I've listened to that song countless times. For whatever reason, it's become personal. One man gifted the world with his song. In the midst of our mountains and sunsets, the flowers and the rain, war rages around us and within us; the temporary and eternal clash and chaos is all around. But then there's that person-or persons-who seem to bring light into our lives-- into the dark. Some teach, some create, some build, some sing, but our lives are meant to be light; protests of the darkness; a constant melody.

I want my life to be like that of the man who made music in those war torn streets. I want to be motivated by His Spirit to get up and to go out, day after day. Did one man's music affect the outcome of the war? Not likely. But I bet it mattered to different degrees for those who were close enough to listen. Maybe it calmed them or comforted them; maybe it even gave them hope: a thing of beauty in the darkness. I believe his music mattered to the One who placed the song in his heart. And much like the man and his cello, we too, are called out-each with our different gifts and our different stories to bring beauty and music into a broken world.

Stand apart; shine like stars; sing.

"Like a single cup of water, how it matters.
How it matters."