...the song goes on

Lo! The apostolic train joins your sacred name to hallow;

prophets swell the glad refrain, and the white-robed martyrs follow.

And from morn to set of sun, through the church the song goes on.

---Ignaz Franz, 18th century

I haven’t spent much time up north, where lots of mighty rivers originate. I have heard that even the Mighty Mississippi begins as a tiny trickle somewhere up in Minnesota (or, #controversyalert, South Dakota!), before growing to one of the most powerful rivers in the world down south. I am reminded of its slightly more northerly section, and its building power, when I think of the heartbreaking scene in Huckleberry Finn in which Huck and Jim desperately try to resist the flow of the swollen Mississippi in an effort to navigate onto the Ohio, and freedom. But you can’t fight the current of a river that big.

And I’ve actually stood in the headwaters of our own ‘mighty Chattahoochee’ in the mountains not many hours’ drive from here. What starts small is added to by the trickle of tens, of hundreds, streams---until it is flowing with a calm force that will not be denied.

The song of praise that all creation sings had its genesis, well, you know, at the beginning. Can’t you imagine the first elements of creation finding voice and offering that gift up to Creator? And on, through the love story of God and God’s creation, the song has grown---tens, hundreds of trickles and rivulets merging and mingling to create one song that will not be denied.

Do you hear the people sing?