Sunday, December 15, 2019

This holiday season, we can all learn a lesson from Beethoven

This past summer I heard an excellent speech by Dr. Doug Pew, a former professor of music on Beethoven.  This opinion piece in the Washington Post by Arthur Brooks makes some of the same points.

Dec. 13, 2019 at 6:01 p.m. EST
“For the last three years my hearing has grown steadily weaker . . . in the theatre I have to get very close to the orchestra to understand the performers, and . . . from a distance I do not hear the high notes of the instruments and the singers’ voices.”
These are the words of Ludwig van Beethoven in 1801, when he was 30. His 249th birthday is this week.
Beethoven was, as we now know, going deaf. Already quite famous as a pianist and composer, he had for several years experienced buzzing and ringing in his ears; by 1800, his hearing was in full decline. The problem thereafter worsened by the year, and it became clear to him and those around him that there was no hope of remission. But what happened as a result changed the world of music, and holds a lesson for us more than two centuries later.
For a long time, Beethoven raged against his decline, insisting on performing, with worse and worse results. To be able to hear his own playing, he banged on pianos so forcefully that he often left them wrecked. “In forte passages the poor deaf man pounded on the keys until the strings jangled,” wrote his friend and fellow composer Ludwig Spohr. “I was deeply saddened at so hard a fate.”
Beethoven confided in friends that without sound, his life would be meaningless. One close to him wrote of his laments: “It is a cry of revolt and of heart-rending pain — one cannot hear it but be shaken with pity. He is ready to end his life; only moral rectitude keeps him back.”
He finally gave up performing as his deafness progressed but found ways to keep composing. His housekeepers noticed that he would try to feel the timbre of notes on the piano by putting a pencil in his mouth and touching it to the soundboard while he played. When his hearing was partial, he apparently avoided using notes with the frequencies he could not hear. A 2011 analysis in the British Medical Journal shows that high notes (above 1568 Hz) made up 80 percent of his string quartets written in his 20s but dropped to less than 20 percent in his 40s.
In the last decade of Beethoven’s life (he died at 56), his deafness was complete, so music could reside only in his imagination. That meant the end of his compositional career, right? Wrong, of course. During that period, Beethoven wrote the music that would define his unique style, change music permanently and give him a legacy as one of the greatest composers of all time.
Entirely deaf, Beethoven wrote his best string quartets (with more high notes than in works from the previous decade), his magisterial “Missa Solemnis” and his greatest triumph of all, the Ninth Symphony. He insisted on conducting the latter piece’s premier (although legend has it there was a second conductor in the wings whom the orchestra was actually following). After the performance, unaware of the thunderous ovation, Beethoven was physically turned by one of the musicians to see the jubilant audience members on their feet after hearing what has come to be regarded by many as the greatest orchestral piece ever written.
It seems a mystery that Beethoven became more original and brilliant as a composer in inverse proportion to his ability to hear his own — and others’ — music. But maybe it isn’t so surprising. As his hearing deteriorated, he was less influenced by the prevailing compositional fashions, and more by the musical structures forming inside his own head. His early work is pleasantly reminiscent of his early instructor, the hugely popular Josef Haydn. Beethoven’s later work became so original that he was, and is, regarded as the father of music’s romantic period. “He opened up a new world in music,” said French romantic master Hector Berlioz. “Beethoven is not human.”
Deafness freed Beethoven as a composer because he no longer had society’s soundtrack in his ears. Perhaps therein lies a lesson for each of us. I know, I know: You’re no Beethoven. But as you read the lines above, maybe you could relate to the great composer’s loss in some small way. Have you lost something that defined your identity? Maybe it involves your looks. Or your social prestige. Or your professional relevance.
How might this loss set you free? You might finally define yourself in new ways, free from the boundaries you set for yourself based on the expectations of others. For example, as you age, what if you lean in to the “declines’’ — really just natural changes — and use your wisdom more than your beauty and wits? What if you turn your energy from impressing strangers to being completely present with the people you love?
It would be naive to think that Beethoven fully appreciated the artistic freedom his deafness granted him. I can imagine Beethoven went to his grave regretting his loss of hearing, because it cost him his beloved career as a fine pianist. He did not know the extent to which his radical new compositional style — heard only by others — would define him as truly great for hundreds of years after his death. Maybe he had a clue, however. It is significant that his Ninth Symphony closes triumphantly with lines from Friedrich Schiller’s poem “Ode to Joy”: “Joy! A spark of fire from heaven, / Daughter from Elysium, / Drunk with fire we dare to enter, / Holy One, inside your shrine. / Your magic power binds together, / What we by custom wrench apart, / All men will emerge as brothers, / Where you rest your gentle wings."
This holiday season, perhaps we can all learn a lesson from the life of the great Beethoven. Take time to listen to the Ninth and give deep thought to the changes in your own life. You might not revolutionize music, but maybe you will discover joy in the freedom that can come from losing something, but allowing yourself to grow.

Saturday, May 28, 2016

5 Useful Sites for Sermon Illustrations

Last week as I prepared to preach on Trinity Sunday, and this week as I prepared to preach on Romans 1:1-17, I have been hunting feverishly for illustrations.  I've found typing in things like "encouragement illustration" and "faith illustration" have yielded some good results.  Here are some of the sites that I've been led to in my search for illustrations:

http://www.sermonillustrations.com/

There are a number of illustrations for each topic which means that you can pick the one that most perfectly fits what you're seeking to illustrate.

https://bible.org/illustrations

This site has some of the same illustrations that I found at sermonillustrations.com, but there were other ones as well.  The illustrations are retrieved by clicking on links.

http://ministry127.com/resources/illustrations

This site is the Bartlett's Quotations site of sermon illustrations - short, pithy statements, mostly one-liners.

http://www.sermoncentral.com/illustrations

Most of the illustrations here are accessible, but some, which are marked "Pro," are only for paid subscribers.

http://www.sermoncentral.com/illustrations

This site is set up like bible.org with links to illustrations.

There you have it; five go-to sites for sermon illustrations.  Happy hunting!


Sunday, February 14, 2016

"Broken Colors"

"Broken Colors" By Mary Owen, Celebrate Recovery National Training Coach- Feb 8, 2016

"For we are God’s masterpiece. He has created us anew in Christ Jesus, so we can do the good things he planned for us long ago." Eph 2:10 NLT

I came across this famous painting by Claude Monet calledImpression: Sunrise. The picture portrays the early morning sun rising over a small rowboat and other boats in a foggy bay. Monet’s painting has been celebrated as the symbol of the Impressionist Movement in art. What I found fascinating in learning about it was the term I discovered called “broken color.”

This style first used by the Impressionists during the 19th century in French painting came from using short strokes instead of carefully blending colors and tones together. The results turn into a patchwork effect where it appears that light is mixing in with the objects and colors in the painting.

I love thinking of how these broken colors produce amazing works of art. In a way that’s a beautiful metaphor for what God has done through Celebrate Recovery. Millions of broken people have walked through those doors with their own unique shades, often dark and hidden in the shadows and unwilling to be put under any kind of light. We’re all part of the most amazing Impressionist painting ever created. God uses our broken lives and puts it on a canvas without changing our colors. Each of us brings our own unique stains. Yet when viewed as a whole, the final piece is a beautiful rainbow of intense hope.

Tuesday, July 08, 2014

What Sermon Illustrations Should Be Banned From Pulpits?
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Not every story helps the preaching moment. Three views.


Any We've Heard Twice

Marguerite Shuster
Years ago, my church-going uncle, observing a tiny grandchild struggling to carry a Christmas present almost as big as he was, slyly intoned, "It's not heavy; it's my present."
Of course, he was invoking an illustration that is now 130 years old, of a little Scottish girl carrying a large baby. When asked if he is heavy, she responds, "He's not heavy; he's my brother."
By the time I first heard the story, the girl had transmuted into an African boy trudging along a long, dusty road, trying desperately to get help for the disabled brother on his back. The line has become the slogan for the Boys Town nonprofit; the title, slightly altered, of a hit Hollies song; and the theme of a Miller Lite commercial (good deeds being appropriately rewarded, of course, by a tall cool one). The story clearly strikes a chord across time and genres, so why would I suggest banning it from the pulpit?
My uncle's response gives the first clue: Everyone has heard this anecdote already. It readily provokes parody instead of a deep understanding of the truth that love makes burdens light. I tell students that if they have heard an illustration even twice, using it themselves is risky. Of course, the problem for the preacher is exacerbated by the viral quality of today's good stories, to which nearly all of us have instant access. Such stories can be made to work only if the preacher signals a fresh twist upfront.
A subtler difficulty, but one all too common, is moralism and guilt-induction. Yes, love lightens burdens, but even the most loving people can become exhausted and overwhelmed by burdens, say of caregiving, that have pushed them beyond ...

I want to ban the story that is vague. That vagueness is often seen in lack of detail: "There's a story of a man who made lots and lots of money. He found a family in need and helped them. By his giving, he showed the love of God."
We would serve our listeners much better if we did some writing and said, "Jon earned $650,000 last year, counting his bonuses and stock options. He was excited, because he and Betty needed only $80,000 a year to cover all expenses. He began to think about families he could help and bless. By their generous planned giving, Jon and Betty showed the love of God."

I want to ban the mono-genre illustration. I have a pastor colleague whose every illustration is from the world of sports. Another friend draws every illustration from politics and current events. To demonstrate a balanced and well-rounded life, I want to draw from the fields of literature, the arts, sports, military history, entertainment, and business.

[The rest of this article is behind a paywall.]

Monday, June 23, 2014

Posted: 23 Jun 2014 02:58 AM PDT

Ballistic missiles know their target and they never change course. Once a ballistic missile leaves the ground, it’s going to hit the spot in which it is aimed, no matter what.

The problem, however, is that the targets got smart.

The targets learned to move while the missile didn’t.

For this reason, cybernetic missiles were invented. A cybernetic missile, once programmed, changes course with the target.

The cybernetic missile constantly calculates and re-calculates, changing course to stay with the target, no matter what.

A cybernetic missile knows its ultimate goal. It has no idea what it must go through, what twists and turns it must take, or what obstacles it must encounter to reach its goal.

All it knows is that it’s committed to make whatever adjustments necessary to reach its object.


My friend has changed. Radically so. But I’m just as committed to him and our friendship as I was 22 years ago when we first forged our relationship.

Throughout this whole shooting-match called “life,” God has called you to be like a cybernetic missile in many situations.

So no matter what changes in the lives or attitudes of others, remember to always Keep the Love On.

Source: Frank Viola

Monday, June 02, 2014

7 illustrations from Casey Graham of the Rocket Company

Here are seven interesting stories to save in your files, along with a quick thought on how you could leverage the story in a message.
  1. A Texas police officer writes a ticket, but folded a $100 bill inside the citation.  Read the story about grace.  God gives us a great gift, even though we are guilty.
  2. Wikepedia, the free encyclopedia that everyone writes, put the mega-staffed, super-popular Microsoft Encarta out of business.  Read the Wikepedia article about Wikepedia and remind your congregation that everybody is better than somebody.
  3. Chinese bamboo produces little outward growth for the first four years of its life. Though it’s puny and pitiful, there’s something powerful happening underground.  In the fifth year, the tree grows eighty feet!  We must cultivate our soul and understand that the root comes before the fruit.
  4. Starbucks reclaimed four shipping containers and made a pretty cool store.  They say the containers are “reclaimed, refurnished, renewed and revived.” Sounds like what God does in our hearts.
  5. There’s a 99.99% soundproof room in Minneapolis that holds the Guinness World’s Record for being the quietest place on earth.  NASA rents it to train astronauts.  Reminds me of what could happen when we heed the words of Psalm 46:10 and be still.
  6. Duffy Daughtery was the football coach for the Michigan State Spartans from 1954 to 1972.  At the end of one game, Daughtery sent in his kicker to win the game.  As the kick sailed through the uprights, the kicker looked at the referee.  Why?  Because he had forgotten his contact lens and couldn’t see!  Though he couldn’t see the goalposts, he’d practiced the kick so many times, it was routine.  This story might work great in a message on spiritual disciplines, Bible reading, consistent community or parenting.
  7. A famous violinist named Joshua Bell once played for 45 minutes in a Washington DC Metro station. Though he paid a $3 Million violin and had sold out a Boston theater just two nights before, only six people stopped to listen to his music.  What a great story to illustrate that we should never take people for granted.

Thursday, February 13, 2014

From Cornelius Platinga in Reading for Preaching (p. 22):

“Good writers typically supply a fair number of preachers’ “illustrations,” as we call them. The term is actually a catch-all for anecdotes, analogies, stories, blog entries, editorial opinions, famous tweets, incidents from history, memorable sayings, biographical profiles, statistics, snippets of dialogue from TV interviews, lines from Wikipedia bios, lines from poems, news reports, people’s comments on news reports, summaries of film plots, sentences from one of Bonhoeffer’s prison letters, and all the other fine things preachers gather, store, and retrieve in order to dress their exegeted text decently so that when Sunday morning comes the preacher’s sermon may appear ‘clothed and in [its] right mind.’”