I still can remember going to the Orpheum Theater in Seattle some thirty-three years ago, sitting in the front row of the balcony and watching as Julie Andrews romped across the Austrian Alps singing "The hills are alive with the sound of music."

Haven't there been times in your own life when you wanted to do the same? When the utter joy of being alive is so overwhelming you want to just burst into song?

Our family and friends are grateful that we don't but I think you know what I mean.

This is, of course, one of the reasons we sing in worship. Our music says so much more than the mere words we're mouthing.

Stop for a moment and think of some of the music that has shaped our world, our lives.

Is there a black man or woman of our generation who isn't filled with emotion each time they sing or hear "We Shall Overcome"?

There isn't a time when I listen to Dvorak's New World Symphony and not remember sitting silently in our family room watching Kennedy's funeral procession sadly moving down Connecticut Ave.

In a few weeks we will sing "Away in a Manger" and watch through tears as our children learn the words and sing the tune. A time of innocence is born anew even as we mourn its passing.

What I remember about my father's funeral is not the words said but the songs that we sang. Maybe that is why we always picture a heavenly chorus...angels singing and not all typing away at another boring sermon.

Come to think of it, we Christians always seems to get along pretty well when we are singing. It is when we start explaining what the songs mean that we start throwing punches again.