When the Music Itself Seemed Lost

In the summer of 1741, George Frideric Handel was a broken man. His operas had flopped. Creditors circled. Four years earlier, a stroke had paralyzed his right arm, and many in London whispered that the great composer was finished. At fifty-six, Handel had every reason to set down his pen for good.

Then a librettist named Charles Jennens handed him a scripture-based text. Something stirred. Handel locked himself in his London home and began to compose. For twenty-four days he barely ate, barely slept, barely spoke to anyone. Servants found trays of food untouched outside his door. When he finished the "Hallelujah" chorus, a friend found him with tears streaming down his face. "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 lifted millions of souls across nearly three centuries.

Here is what strikes me. The Almighty did not use Handel at the height of his fame. He used him at his lowest point. The stroke, the failure, the debt — none of it disqualified him. It prepared him.

The apostle Paul wrote, "We are hard pressed on every side, but not crushed; perplexed, but not in despair" (2 Corinthians 4:8). Perseverance is not the absence of suffering. It is the refusal to believe that God is finished with you — because He never is.

Whatever silence you are sitting in today, keep composing. Your Messiah may be just ahead.