From Ruin to the Hallelujah Chorus

By the summer of 1741, George Frideric Handel was a broken man. The composer who had once dazzled the courts of Europe now faced mounting debts, failing health, and audiences that had abandoned him. A stroke had partially paralyzed his right hand. His creditors circled. At fifty-six, he reportedly told a friend he feared dying in debtor's prison.

Then a libretto arrived from Charles Jennens — a collection of scripture passages telling the story of Christ from prophecy to resurrection. Something stirred in Handel. He picked up his pen and began to write.

For the next twenty-four days, he barely ate or slept. Music poured out of him like water from a struck rock. When his servant brought meals, he found them untouched, and Handel weeping at his desk. Completing the "Hallelujah Chorus," Handel reportedly said through tears, "I did think I did see all Heaven before me, and the great God Himself."

What emerged was Messiah — a work that has moved millions across nearly three centuries. Not from Handel's season of triumph, but from his season of ruin.

This is how the Almighty works. He does not wait for us to have ourselves together. He meets us in the debt, the paralysis, the empty concert hall of our lives, and says, "Now — now I will make something eternal through you." The same God who drew Messiah from a broken composer is drawing something breathtaking from your brokenness right now. Let Him compose.