'A man was a professional musician in a Muslim country. After coming to know the Lord Jesus, he studied abroad, then returned to his own country despite the risks involved. He arrived in time to organise the music and train a choir for a series of Christian outreach events. He was then warned by a government representative to stop his work or risk losing his life. He is now a refugee but his songs are still being used by Christians in the country. Give thanks for this man's ministry and pray that the Lord will protect him.'
Did you see that item earlier this year in the Prayer Notes of the Barnabas Fund? Its double anonymity of people and places comes as no surprise but is worth noting. We may not often think of composers and choir leaders as the front line of candidates for martyrdom; perhaps we should. Yes, we can sing the Lord's songs in some strange lands, but we shall not be too eager to fill in the copyright details or heap prizes on those who write them.
Why bother to sing at all? It's a bit like evangelism and prayer; we have a Scriptural command to do it (with new songs at that), but even without the specific and repeated injunctions, the Spirit-prompted desire rises from within our very being. Unlike the football crowds, we don't just sing when we're winning - except that we are always 'more than conquerors, through him who loved us'. We also sing when we seem to be losing: in exile, in captivity, in the valley of the shadow of death, and even walking out to meet the gallows, the gun or the flames. Our distinctive 'joy in tribulation' cannot be fully expressed in smiles, hand-signals or spoken words; somehow music keeps breaking out.
