My Music

I find music inescapable. It's as haunting as words to me; the words that run their ribbons through my consciousness until I sit down and sculpt something out of them. And sometimes, when paired in music, there's no sculpting involved: sometimes writing music is like taking diction. I could almost promise I'm playing music already written: and I believe it is. If God chooses to use me to voice His song, I'm honoured. Why He chooses me is like someone asking why I choose a certain pen or piano when I write: I can't say why, but they are usually the ones that are readily available, and I know what is right for the task. If my hands are readily waiting & my focus on Him, I know there is a chance that, as I meander through each day, a song may just come of it. I spend a lot of time in thought, and sometimes I think best with my hands on a piano keyboard. My songs come from my own experiences; from observing people; especially from relationships that have built themselves around me & conversations that have filled those spaces; and of course, the “taking of diction” when God seems to decide to have some fun with me and watch me scramble for pen & paper when He drops a song into my mouth.

My heart’s cry is for people; I love observing them, knowing them, and loving them. If my music has one goal, I want to see healing in the tender & vulnerable places of our lives. If my music can enhance a time of reflection or prick a consciousness; if it causes some framework of peace in a moment of the day, then it has done its work. The human heart cries for beauty; for wholeness; for someone to find words that explain them and put their hearts to rest. I don’t know that I accomplish this yet, but if I have one musical & lyrical aim, that is it.

I grew up to music, traveling & singing with my entire family (parents & 6 children) around the East Coast in full-time music ministry. I first sang in public in a hole-in-the-wall coffeehouse in Ocean City, MD when I was 2 years old: the rain was pouring down in torrents outside and many homeless men had come in to stay dry & warm. I don’t remember the moment, but I’m told a baby girl—no taller than 2 feet—was set up on a bar stool, handed a microphone that filled both her chubby hands, her two pig-tails flopping, and allowed to sing the song of her choice: Jesus Loves Me. I’m told it was enough to make the toughest homeless guy in that place break down and cry. I, on the other hand, had no thought but to sing my song for God and then hop down and be done. Since then, I took dance lessons and quickly passed them up (for lack of grace) for piano lessons, then cello. I’d always written poetry since before I could write: I’d recite it against the cold glass of the window, feeling the sticky moisture of my breath on my cheek, hearing those delicious words reverberate back into my ear. And somewhere along the line, the music that I’d sung since a baby started pairing with my well-loved language & songs began to fill notebook after notebook throughout my childhood and teen years.

I am now a 22-year-old musician/poet/music teacher/worship leader and my music has graduated from college rule notebooks & cassette tape recordings to… well, My Documents folders & roughly recorded tracks by people who believe in me and use what they have to get my music at least hear-able. But though my tools may be limited, I don’t believe in letting it limit what God has for me. Besides, nothing could stop the music even if it tried. The only times I’ve felt the gift go slack are the times my heart is slowly distanced from the more intimate proximity to God’s heart. Only He can remove what He gives, and He will if I take it for granted.

So, in short (or rather, long)—this is me. I believe in the power of words; the great & precious tool found in music; in the incredible pairing of the two. But in as much as I believe in the Great & Profound Majesty housed inside them, just as I believe in the Great & Profound personified in God, I also believe in the intensely stirring power of the simplistic. I believe in the miraculous wonder of healing found inside the quietest song. I believe in the most life-changing experiences found in the gentle nudge of the Holy Spirit. I believe in stripping away the excess & discovering the sweet, inescapable core of all that we do & are: it’s simply Love, and the heart-wrenching, beautiful Perfect seen in our imperfection when looked on through the eyes of that Love. I believe in that vulnerability. I believe in the stirring inside the stillness. I believe in the uncomplicated.

So that is my music: and for me, each song is custom, like a journal entry; it's an open page to my spirit & what His Spirit is doing. It's me singing the songs I sing when alone; in the turning over of thoughts in my head; in hopes that some vulnerability will open the closed places in hearts that are too afraid to go where I’m attempting to go; a place where I tread softly; a warm, whittling, & coaxing place in the presence of God.