Born to sing

"All God's creatures got a place in the choir"

The other day, after five years of recalcitrant piano practice, my 13-year-old son asked me (once again) why I want all my children to play the piano. “Five reasons,” I told him. Then, right off the top of my head, I listed these

1. It helps coordinate your hands and eyes.
2. It helps make connections in your brain that you might not otherwise make.
3. It gives you a creative outlet.
4. It gives you another language--another mode of communication--to express yourself.
5. It allows you to serve others.

It’s that fourth reason—another way to express yourself—that really sells me on the idea of music in general. Although I’m not a pianist, I still express myself through singing. Moreover, I believe everyone is wired to sing. In fact, one of my favorite children’s tunes affirms this idea:

All God's creatures got a place in the choir
Some sing low, some sing higher
Some sing out loud on the telephone wire
And some just clap their hands, or paws
Or anything they got.

~ Bill Staines

Whenever I hear this song, I think of singing in church. What a mix of disparate sounds, personalities, and backgrounds can be connected by music! In our congregation alone, we have a once-popular Vegas singer, a Mongolian couple who know very little English, a would-be opera singer, several reluctant teenage boys whose voices are changing, and many more voices in between. Though often unique in multiple ways, members of a group can be melded together by song to create almost the perfect metaphor of unity—heart, voice, soul, and song all combined to express joy, worship, delight, sorrow, grief, and so on.

Besides unity, singing is often characterized by a certain honesty—an emotional nakedness, if you will. When you sing, it’s hard to hide your real self. In the movie Dan in Real Life, one of the lead characters tries to impress his new girlfriend by singing to her during a family talent show. Though clearly untrained and uncomfortable, he still risks looking the fool. He explains himself by quoting his brother, who tells him, “If you want to be completely honest, sing.”

Children don’t seem to struggle as much with this kind of honesty. When my son Grant was four years old, he was part of a children’s singing program at church. Front and center, his little body belied his deep, booming, bass voice. When the conductor stood close to the front to elicit the biggest sound she could from the children, I stood behind her. I tried to get Grant’s attention so he would blend in rather than belt out the songs. Stupidly, I felt it my parental duty to shush his voice. Making this nod toward decorum and conformity was probably a mistake. My shushing made no difference anyway, and the congregation delighted in his unadulterated, unmasked fever pitch. That day, it was truly his singing that carried the message. In fact, just yesterday a good friend remembered that very experience from over a decade ago, still touched by Grant’s honest, guileless expression through song. I'm still tinged by guilt and shame for tamping down Grant's joy. 

There’s something about the combination of words and music that makes for powerful communication. Even when song lyrics are brilliant, words alone can be insufficient. Recently, for example, I told a friend about a song that I think captures the essence of our friendship, but she was unfamiliar with both the words and the music. The lyrics alone left her confused and uncertain of what I was trying to describe. Sadly, without hearing the words set to music, she found the song’s message eluded her almost entirely.

Until recently, I had forgotten about some of my own childhood experiences with music. As a six-year-old, back when children could navigate neighborhoods safely, I remember walking home alone from my best friend’s house. Literally singing at the top of my lungs, I belted out song after song. I vaguely remember adults smiling as I passed, but I vividly remember the carefree, joyous feeling that raced from my toes to the top of my head as I sang with abandon. I felt born to sing! Indeed, we all are born to sing.