The Power of Song

Once I spent a week in the company of a famous female Chinese evangelist.

Many characteristics made her stand out: her courage, her long hours on her knees, her carefully cultivated simplicity of faith.

But at the time, these were not the features that stuck with me and ended up transforming my faith. What actually impressed me about her was the same thing that impressed me about everyone around her - they were always singing!

Singing hymns, that is!

Three features of the singing were striking:

First, the hymns themselves were not in the least profound. In terms of content, they lacked theological depth and poetic phrasing. Wesley or Newton would not have been proud of these offerings.

Second, they couldn't sing very well. Chinese people are not renowned for their harmonic skills. They warbled, croaked, and droned and screeched - all with a complete disregard for the tune.

Third, they sang primarily to themselves. Sure, they sang in groups and to each other, but most of their singing was done by themselves, to themselves.

But all this did not matter. The songs worked.

As I travelled around, I was reminded of a filmmaker friend of mine who, in his sixties, made a film with a cast of children.

He said afterwards: "I had completely forgot how much children laugh. The set was always full of laughter and I thought, where did we lose the laughter as adults?"

Travelling around with these persecuted believers made me realise I had forgotten how much Christians sing praises.

For me, the only time I sang was in church or an occasional chorus at a home group. I had never really sung hymns to myself or seen singing to another as a ministry.

I didn't have a terribly good singing voice and felt like I should leave it to those who were good at it.

But after hearing everyone in the persecuted Church of China singing virtually all the time and seeing the difference it made to them spiritually, I wondered: "Why do I not sing by myself, to my own spirit, or see singing as a ministry of encouragement?"

Two examples

An evangelist, whose name was Mrs Yang, was visited by another full-time preacher who was very downcast. The preacher wanted to buy a tape player but had no money.

Mrs Yang sat down and just began to sing to her. Her voice was deep and scratchy, the tune barely discernable, the words simple:

I am a wanderer, my home is in heaven. Life is fleeting. Our home is in heaven. In this world we have many trials. And sadness and sickness. True happiness is not in this world. But in heaven.

Mrs Yang sang as if before the Lord himself. Every word poured out from her core with total conviction.

Tears rolled down her cheeks, her hands clenched the air, and she beat time on her hip.

Soon the visiting preacher had joined in, and I watched them, roaring out the hymn together, smiles over both their faces.

The preacher left, still with no money for her longed for tape player, but refreshed and encouraged.

Then again, I watched one morning as Mrs Yang went out into the hills to pray. I followed her at a discreet distance.

First, she prayed for 20 minutes. Then she sang, walking around, for another 20 minutes.

For the next hour she read her Bible, making notes, planning the day's sermons.

After that she sang again for another half hour.

I confessed I had been spying on her, and asked: "Why do you sing so much when there is no one to hear?"

She said: "My father once told me, 'One of the sweet things about the Christian life is that you will do things because they are commanded, and then you will spend the rest of your life gaining deeper insight into why God's commands are so good.'

"So singing is a command. In the Psalms, we are constantly exhorted to sing praises to our God.

"But as for why, I confess it is one of those wonderful mysteries my father told me about.

"You see, while in prison, I could pray and read Scripture, but nothing raised my spirits like singing.

"Maybe it's because singing somehow concentrates all of the body on the praise of God, but I have found it essential to the maintenance of a positive spirit."

Then she looked embarrassed.

I said: "What is it? You were about to say something, but you have gone all reticent."

She replied: "Well, it's just that an old lady told me something that really sums up the main reason I sing.

"Our spirits are like flowers, and song is the sun. Just as flowers only truly open when the sun shines, so our spirits only blossom when we sing.'

"I believe that. I don't know how, but it's true.

"Since my prison cell, I cannot do without song, and I am very frightened that as China gets more open and the churches get more organised, we are going to leave the singing to the professionals. This would be terrible.

"The only way you can have a full blossoming spirit is to sing to it."

So when I came back, I picked my seven favourite hymns, ones like "We Rest on Thee, Our Shield and Our Defender" and "Breath on Me Breath of God." I learned them, and I sing them to my spirit.

And I found her words to be true. A song lifts the spirit like nothing else.

And as I read the Bible, I saw how central singing was to the practice of faith. The Israelites sang all the time in the temple; prisoners Paul and Silas sang in the cell; the early house churches sang to each other.

The Scriptures climax in the great throne visions of John in Revelation. What is going on in that most hallowed place? The singing of a "new song".

Thank you, persecuted Christians, for restoring a lost key component of my spiritual life.