The Music That Almost Never Was

In the summer of 1741, George Frideric Handel was a broken man. Once the toast of London, he now faced crippling debt, failing health, and audiences who had turned their backs on his work. Four years earlier, a stroke had left him with partial paralysis in his right hand. Critics declared his career finished. He was sixty-six years old, and by every reasonable measure, they were right.

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

For twenty-four days, he barely ate or slept. Servants left trays of food outside his door, only to retrieve them untouched. When he finished the "Hallelujah" chorus, his assistant found him weeping at his desk. "I did think I did see all Heaven before me," Handel said, "and the great God Himself."

The result was Messiah — a work that has moved millions across nearly three centuries and remains one of the most performed compositions in history.

The Apostle Paul wrote, "We are hard pressed on every side, but not crushed; perplexed, but not in despair" (2 Corinthians 4:8). God does not wait for us to be whole before He uses us. Sometimes the Almighty does His greatest work through hands that tremble, through voices that crack, through hearts that have every reason to quit but refuse to stop singing.