It was the first time I'd ever been to Chautauqua, the historic conference center in western New York. As the congregation gathered in the open auditorium singing "Day Is Dying in the West," I seemed to step back into an earlier era of revival fervor.
Much to my delight, the vespers service was to be a Messiah sing-along. I looked forward to singing to my heart's content. Who cared if it was the middle of July?
My first dilemma was where to sit. I can't sing quite high enough to be a decent tenor, yet my shovel isn't big enough to dig out the deepest bass notes. So I sat exactly in the middle and sang whichever way the wind seemed to be blowing.
To my surprise, there were several others like me. There were even some who sang parts Handel never dreamed of. But we were all there to sing great music regardless.
No doubt many people around the world who have sung the Messiah have little, if any, saving faith in the One about whom they have sung. But the words proclaim his truth regardless of the ...
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