The Music That Refused to Die

In the summer of 1741, George Frideric Handel was a broken man. The composer who had once filled London's finest concert halls now faced crippling debt, failing health, and audiences that had all but forgotten him. At fifty-six, he considered retirement. His critics called him finished.

Then a libretto arrived from Charles Jennens — a collection of scripture passages tracing the story of the Messiah. Something stirred in Handel. He began composing, and for twenty-four extraordinary days, he barely ate or slept. His servant would find him weeping at his desk, the music pouring out of him faster than his hand could write. When he finished the Hallelujah Chorus, Handel reportedly said, "I did think I did see all Heaven before me, and the great God Himself."

The premiere in Dublin on April 13, 1742, was a sensation. The man the world had written off gave us one of the most transcendent pieces of music ever composed — not from a place of strength, but from the bottom of a well.

This is how the Almighty works. He does not wait until we have recovered to begin His greatest work in us. He composes His masterpiece precisely when we feel most silent, most spent, most certain the music has stopped for good.

If you are in your own summer of 1741 — exhausted, forgotten, wondering if your best days are behind you — listen closely. The Composer is not finished with you. The greatest movement may be the one He is writing right now.