Read Online A Walk In The Wilderness by Nancy Hopper - Free Book Online
Authors: Nancy Hopper
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the moon, the dim shape of the Lord upon his throne for them to see, more light than detail.
Stars began to appear above them, and the very things that the artist spoke came into being around them. Even the earth was projected so that they could see it before them. It was stupendous. A b reathtaking, miraculous vision.
“Now.” David instructed with authority, “Close the door behind you and forget the day. Forget the world. Open your ears and hear, tonight. Be blessed. Let Him minister to you. Just sit at His feet and worship Him. Let no one rob you by drawing you back to this world. But stay in this reality tonight, in His presence.”
The theatre went totally pitch black. They heard deep, booming drums. Soon, the cadence they set was joined by the rich, low drone of several cellos. Then, a plaintive flute called and began to weave its voice into the tapestry. A deep, violet light began to glow along the lower borders of the hall.
Thousands of stars began to glimmer in the darkness above them. A saxophone began to woo and cajole, to stir their hearts and passions.
Then, the piano began to play. Like gentle ocean waves breaking on the beach, it called to them. It was a melody so haunting, so lilting that it caused Caitlin’s heart to wrench within her breast. Just when she felt tears spring to her eyes, the tune of a sweet violin gripped her heart strings, and stretched them to snapping tension.
It was tremendous. Overpowering. Wonderful. Terrible. It caused one to ache; to weep; to want to keen at the top of one’s lungs. The sweetness and beauty of it clashed with the power and majesty that followed, until a riot of feelings burst forth. There came then a ruthless, relentless quality in the music.
It was a long time before David Michael Majors began to sing. When he did, it was almost more than Caitlin could stand to hear. This man could express such emotion through his fingers and voice – such passion and pain, like nothing she’d ever heard.
“I call from the ends of the earth to Thee. My God, my God. Where are you? When my strength fails, take me to the rock that’s stronger than me. Yes, my God. I look to Thee. I will praise you Lord, and pay my vows to Thee. My God, I must abide forever before Thee. You never change. You alone can hide me. So I will sing in the shadow of your wings.”
Though at times he was almost whispering, his voice seemed to roar and fill every part of the giant room. The voice was deep, husky, rich. But it held a cry of desperation; a compelling need. It gripped the heart and tore in its intensity.
“Who my God is like unto Thee? Whom then shall I seek to come and rescue me? You are my source; my mighty rock, my strength. You and you alone art worthy.”
The music exploded suddenly. “And so I sing in the shadow of your wings. Yes I run, I run, I run unto Thee. My fortress, my maker, my mighty, mighty king. I live not until I live for Thee. And I will sing ...”
It went on and on. Caitlin was terribly glad that she didn’t have to go to work following the concert. To leave early would have wrenched her soul. She was captured, ensnared in the magic that the music wove. She was entranced completely.
The words intermingled with long musical interludes. Tension and release. The tapestry grew rich as the voices and instruments swelled and withdrew, each in turn. She just sat stiffly, gripping the arms of her seat.
She felt tears spilling from her eyes, and hardly noticed.
The words of David Michael Majors were mixed with those of King David; of Moses; of Elijah, Elisha, Joshua, Micah and Joel. He sang words spoken by Ezekiel; Jeremiah; Isaiah. Of Jesus, Paul and John the Beloved.
Caitlin could not have said which words
Stars began to appear above them, and the very things that the artist spoke came into being around them. Even the earth was projected so that they could see it before them. It was stupendous. A b reathtaking, miraculous vision.
“Now.” David instructed with authority, “Close the door behind you and forget the day. Forget the world. Open your ears and hear, tonight. Be blessed. Let Him minister to you. Just sit at His feet and worship Him. Let no one rob you by drawing you back to this world. But stay in this reality tonight, in His presence.”
The theatre went totally pitch black. They heard deep, booming drums. Soon, the cadence they set was joined by the rich, low drone of several cellos. Then, a plaintive flute called and began to weave its voice into the tapestry. A deep, violet light began to glow along the lower borders of the hall.
Thousands of stars began to glimmer in the darkness above them. A saxophone began to woo and cajole, to stir their hearts and passions.
Then, the piano began to play. Like gentle ocean waves breaking on the beach, it called to them. It was a melody so haunting, so lilting that it caused Caitlin’s heart to wrench within her breast. Just when she felt tears spring to her eyes, the tune of a sweet violin gripped her heart strings, and stretched them to snapping tension.
It was tremendous. Overpowering. Wonderful. Terrible. It caused one to ache; to weep; to want to keen at the top of one’s lungs. The sweetness and beauty of it clashed with the power and majesty that followed, until a riot of feelings burst forth. There came then a ruthless, relentless quality in the music.
It was a long time before David Michael Majors began to sing. When he did, it was almost more than Caitlin could stand to hear. This man could express such emotion through his fingers and voice – such passion and pain, like nothing she’d ever heard.
“I call from the ends of the earth to Thee. My God, my God. Where are you? When my strength fails, take me to the rock that’s stronger than me. Yes, my God. I look to Thee. I will praise you Lord, and pay my vows to Thee. My God, I must abide forever before Thee. You never change. You alone can hide me. So I will sing in the shadow of your wings.”
Though at times he was almost whispering, his voice seemed to roar and fill every part of the giant room. The voice was deep, husky, rich. But it held a cry of desperation; a compelling need. It gripped the heart and tore in its intensity.
“Who my God is like unto Thee? Whom then shall I seek to come and rescue me? You are my source; my mighty rock, my strength. You and you alone art worthy.”
The music exploded suddenly. “And so I sing in the shadow of your wings. Yes I run, I run, I run unto Thee. My fortress, my maker, my mighty, mighty king. I live not until I live for Thee. And I will sing ...”
It went on and on. Caitlin was terribly glad that she didn’t have to go to work following the concert. To leave early would have wrenched her soul. She was captured, ensnared in the magic that the music wove. She was entranced completely.
The words intermingled with long musical interludes. Tension and release. The tapestry grew rich as the voices and instruments swelled and withdrew, each in turn. She just sat stiffly, gripping the arms of her seat.
She felt tears spilling from her eyes, and hardly noticed.
The words of David Michael Majors were mixed with those of King David; of Moses; of Elijah, Elisha, Joshua, Micah and Joel. He sang words spoken by Ezekiel; Jeremiah; Isaiah. Of Jesus, Paul and John the Beloved.
Caitlin could not have said which words
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