The Song That Came From Ruin

In the summer of 1741, George Frideric Handel was a broken man. The composer who had once dazzled the courts of Europe was now drowning in debt. His operas had flopped, audiences had abandoned him, and a stroke had left his right hand temporarily paralyzed. At fifty-six, Handel seemed finished.

Then a libretto arrived from Charles Jennens — a collection of scripture passages woven into a narrative about the Messiah. Something stirred in the aging composer. He began writing. For twenty-four days, Handel barely ate or slept. The music poured out of him like water from a rock. When his servant brought meals, he found them untouched, and Handel weeping over the manuscript. Upon completing the "Hallelujah Chorus," Handel reportedly said, "I did think I did see all Heaven before me, and the great God Himself."

The result was Messiah — a work that has been performed continuously for nearly three centuries, lifting countless souls toward the Almighty.

Here is what strikes me: God did not use Handel at the height of his fame. He used him at the bottom. The hope of the gospel has never required ideal conditions. The psalmist wrote, "Why, my soul, are you downcast? Put your hope in God" (Psalm 42:5).

If you are in your own summer of 1741 — depleted, discounted, wondering if your best days are behind you — remember that the God who brought Messiah out of a broken man is not finished with you either.