The Song That Refused to Die

In 1741, George Frideric Handel was broken. At fifty-six, he was paralyzed on his left side, deeply in debt, and facing the mockery of London's elite who had written him off as a spent force. His operas had failed. Creditors circled. He later told friends he considered whether life was worth continuing.

Then a libretto arrived from Charles Jennens — a collection of scripture passages about the Messiah. Handel began composing on August 22nd and barely stopped. For twenty-four days, he wrote feverishly, often weeping at his desk. Servants brought meals he never touched. When he finished the "Hallelujah" chorus, he reportedly said, "I did think I did see all Heaven before me, and the great God Himself."

What emerged was Messiah — a work that has been performed continuously for nearly three centuries. The man the world had discarded produced the most enduring piece of sacred music ever written.

This is what the Almighty does. He does not wait for us to be whole before He uses us. He meets us in our lowest room, in the place where ambition has died and pride has finally let go, and He hands us something eternal to carry.

The prophet Isaiah wrote, "Those who wait on the Lord shall renew their strength." Not those who succeed. Not those who perform. Those who wait. Hope is not the absence of ruin. It is the song that God writes through it.