Psalm 95:1-2 reads:
“Oh come, let us sing to the Lord; let us make a joyful noise to the Rock of our salvation! Let us come into His presence with thanksgiving; let us make a joyful noise to Him with songs of praise!”
The Psalms are filled with verses encouraging us to sing praises to the Lord. Commanding us even, and giving us a glimpse of how it is meant to be done.
In Psalm 33 alone, we are told it is the duty of the righteous:
Psalm 33:1
“Sing joyfully to the Lord, you righteous; it is fitting for the upright to praise Him.”
We are called to praise with both voice and instruments:
Psalm 33:2
“Praise the Lord with the harp; make music to Him on the ten-stringed lyre.”
We are to do so with skill and joy:
Psalm 33:3
“Sing to Him a new song; play skillfully, and shout for joy.”
Those admonishments don’t stop in Psalm 33! We are told that the whole earth is to join in praising God daily:
Psalm 96:1-2
“Sing to the Lord a new song; sing to the Lord, all the earth. Sing to the Lord, praise His name; proclaim His salvation day after day.”
We are called to praise God throughout our lives:
Psalm 146:2
“I will praise the Lord all my life; I will sing praise to my God as long as I live.”
And we are to share these songs with fellow believers:
Ephesians 5:19 and Colossians 3:16“
Speak to one another with psalms, hymns, and songs from the Spirit. Sing and make music from your heart to the Lord.”
These verses, and many others, have always led me to believe that we were created to sing to our Maker. It’s part of our calling on this earth, and something we should do together with fellow believers. Unfortunately, that last part—the fellowship—isn't always so easy.
I vividly remember standing on stage at 17 or 18 years old, singing in a Christmas choir concert. The stage lights shone so brightly in my face, it felt like the sun. I raised my voice in praise of my Savior, surrounded by a chorus of believers. In that moment, loud as it was with the tenors behind me, I heard in my mind: "This is what I was made to do—to sing for my Maker." I’m not sure if that thought was mine alone or if it was that “still small voice” I had heard about, but it moved me deeply, and I followed that calling. I went to school for music, practiced for hours, and upon graduation, I was thrilled—I would sing praises to the Lord all my days.
Hopeful and empowered, I began auditioning and performing. But as each show went on, I began to feel further and further from that Christmas concert: that glimpse of heaven. I was no longer surrounded by believers. Worse, it became taboo to even mention my faith. I was often told that speaking of my faith would cost me jobs, and the trite comments about Christians from my fellow singers stung. Confused and frustrated, I tried to persevere and meditated on the command of Psalm 34:1: “I will extol the Lord at all times; His praise will always be on my lips. If I’m honest, though, I felt deceived by that voice. The music had never sounded so beautiful or been so excellent, but this wasn’t a glimpse of heaven. It felt like the farthest thing from it.
Unfortunately, many people fall in love with singing because of their love for the Lord. They, like me, believe they are made to sing—to praise. So many of us feel called to sing and praise with our voices, yet finding a place to do so—especially with excellence—can be difficult. A church choir is such a blessing to be sure! I’m grateful to be a part of one and to cantor at Mass at the school I teach at, but the desires of the artist's heart, with its longing for excellence, are hard to quell. I’d like to say I’m a recovering perfectionist, but I can’t seem to silence my desire for everything I do to be excellent: Especially when they are done for my Maker.
As a result, I turned to the professional world of performing. While the music was often wonderful and the skill impressive, something always felt hollow. Even works like St. Matthew’s Passion, which contains the core of the things we should praise God for, seemed empty when sung by colleagues who sing about my Savior’s sacrifice but don’t understand it. The words from that piece—“O man, bewail your great sin; For this, Christ from His Father’s bosom went forth and came to earth…”—mean nothing to the singers next to me, when they are my whole world.
This is where the greatest blessing of singing with Deo Cantamus comes in. The words and texts mean as much to my fellow singers as they do to me. As we raise our voices together, we are all there to praise our Maker and seek to do so excellently. That shared calling and commitment is powerful. That’s why I’m so excited for this Easter, when we’ll sing The Messiah, a piece that perfectly encompasses the "wonderful acts" (1 Chronicles 16:9) we are called to praise God for.
What a blessing it will be to perform these texts side by side with fellow believers– singers, musicians, and a director, who all alike share the same purpose. Together, we will sing to the Lord all our days. And as I stand on that stage, raising my voice with all my fellow believers, with the stage lights shining on my face like the sun, I’ll be transported back to that moment—the glimpse of heaven I felt all those years ago. A moment that I hope greatly many will come to share, as together we glimpse heaven through our calling to praise our Maker, our Savior, and our God.
O man, bewail your great sin;
For this, Christ from his Father's bosom
Went forth and came to earth.
Of a Virgin pure and gentle
He was born here for our sake,
He was willing to mediate.
To the dead he gave life
And conquered all sickness
Until the time came
That he should be sacrificed for us,
To carry the heavy burden of our sins
Upon the cross itself.
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