Recently, I was reading in Disciplines for the Inner Life.
In this book, I came across a quote from Howard Thurman, found in Deep is the Hunger. He said, “Despite all the crassness of life, despite all the hardness of life, despite all the harsh discords of life, life is saved by the singing of angels.”
I can only imagine what that would sound like. Maybe it would be that like a memory of someone who loves me that would keep me moving forward and taking the next step through difficult days, that hearing the singing of angels would transform me in the midst of my life on earth?
I sit here looking up…out my office window. Most of what I see is a large, weathered barn. A bit of sky is visible up to the left and to the right of the pitch of its roof. Paint has long been worn away, and most of what I see is gray wood grain “stitched” with rusting nail heads up the side. An open window is near the top. It’s black inside except for a small hole in the roof that’s visible to me through that window.
I imagine that hearing the sound of angels singing would be almost like seeing through a small hole in the roof. If I were to be able to get a ladder and go out there and climb up to that window, I’d be looking in through darkness…blackness…just for a peek through the hole.
I ist here, looking up and out…and I think, “why not ask God to really let me hear the sound of angels singing?” I’ve had thoughts like this before, and have prayed the prayer…and have seen it answered. God has given me gifts like this before. A boldness to ask for something some would consider silly, or needless, or outrageous, or just simply ignorant. But, even so, he has allowed me to pray such prayers because he has wanted to answer them and make himself known to me….even in extravagant ways.
Recently, I watched a movie on the life of Jim Elliot and his death at the hands of Auca Indians in Ecuador. He and his missionary brothers were speared to death by the Indians. One thing I learned from the movie I had never known before: The Indian who was the one to actually spear Jim Elliot later became a Christian and met Jim’s son, and he told Jim’s son that as the missionaries lay there dying on the banks of the river that day, they ALL saw and heard angels around them and in the sky hovering just above them. Everyone saw it…the Indians and the men who were dying.
I sat here, about to ask God to actually allow me to hear the sound of angels singing, and I thought…”but what if this means that in order to actually hear the sound of angels singing, I would have to be in such desperate circumstances…hanging by that fragile thread that separates this life from eternity….the space beyond time, beyond morning and evening.” Dare I ask such a thing? Would it not be better to be safe and comfortable, and never hear the sound of angels singing here in this life? Would it?
But, I know that I’m not promised a life without pain. I have never been promised a life without struggle. I have never been promised a life without heart ache. Life on this earth has been tainted by sin, and so there is pain on this earth….for all of us.
So, I have asked. I have asked God to allow me to hear the sound of the angels singing…even while I’m in THIS life here on the earth. I know there is a life to come…with him…but even while I’m still here breathing earthly air, I long to hear the sound of angels singing.
It occurs to me that I must listen for it. I want to see the common, mundane parts of life “shot through with new glory.” I want to see “deep and ancient wounds lose much of their old, old hurting.” Thurman writes that when we do hear the beautiful sound of angels singing that, “A crown is placed over our heads that for the rest of our lives we are trying to grow tall enough to wear.” I will listen and wait and expect to hear it. God’s extravagant love will throw open the window and let the sound flood my life. I know it.
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