Kelsi Vanada

Dear Friends,

I am still a relative newcomer to the 1982 hymnal, choral mass settings, Anglican chant, and all of the musical richness of our tradition. I grew up in nondenominational evangelical churches in the 1990s and early 2000s, and my parents were even part of various praise & worship bands.

Regardless of our tradition, it’s amazing how song stays with us, isn’t it?

Even today, I can read the words of a particular Bible verse and a song instantly pops into my mind—like the band Third Day’s 1999 version of Psalm 36 (“Your love, Oh Lord, reaches to the heavens”). This isn’t the type of music that primarily feels worshipful to me anymore, but there’s some kind of primary identification that makes tears spring to my eyes when I hear certain worship songs from my childhood.

And coming from a musical family, I know the same is true going back generations, through extremely varied expressions of music. My dad still cries when he sings his mother’s favorite gospel hymn: “I Come to the Garden Alone.”

In our Old Testament reading for today from 1 Chronicles, King David is organizing the priests. There’s a beautiful little detail in chapter 25, verse 1. We read that “David and the officers of the army also set apart for the service the sons of Asaph, and of Heman, and of Jeduthun, who should prophesy with lyres, harps, and cymbals.” Music and song as a kind of prophecy is pretty striking.

Which songs are most meaningful to you? Do they make you tear up, or your heart swell, or do they convict you? Might you see those moving moments as a kind of prophecy—not foretelling the future, but as a message from God meant to challenge, comfort, or direct God’s people? 

This Lent, let’s pay attention to the music. I’m working on memorizing a few of my favorites from the 1982 hymnal—maybe you’ll join me! The words we hide in our hearts form us.

In Christ,

—Kelsi