Scrolling through a celebrity / musician Instagram feed, the caption "When I feel closest to God" caught my attention, and I clicked into the below video of the artist playing music.
As a species, across all cultures, we communicate through art. Music pours out of us as a people. And although yes, art and music can be made in a formulaic way - they can be businesses and industries and void of passion - they often come instead through something visceral and organic and spiritual in nature. An expression of something that rises beyond normal speech and conversation. Something we can't quite name, we can't quite label, but we can let ooze out of our fingertips onto a canvas or guitar string or keyboard.
I've quoted it before and I'll surely quote it again, but listening to the melodic wail of this song, I was reminded of Romans 8:26:
"We do not know what we ought to pray for, but the Spirit intercedes for us with wordless groans."
Groans aren't necessarily negative when I think of them musically - 'the wail of a guitar' is evocative, but not painful. Music has the ability to groan with joy and excitement just as easily as sorrow and grief - the groaning is in the wordlessness, the intangible elements art taps into.
And so music and art become a connection point for many artists to the spiritual. A moment of personal closeness to divinity.
"When I feel closest to God". There's vulnerability in that statement, in sharing that internal connection outwardly. Of course, Instagram feeds being carefully curated as they are, I can't speak to the authenticity of this particular post, though my preference is to take the artist's comment at face value. As a performer, I've been there. Standing on a stage in front of a large crowd, and losing myself in a particular lyric, a specific drum beat, a feeling that the music is voicing some unspoken part of my soul on my behalf. In that brief moment, in spite of my normally nearly debilitating stage fright, I feel close to God in front of a crowd, and more myself than I ever am.
To open that moment to the eyes of others is exposing for an artist, but also connecting. When you see a musician close their eyes and enter into their own experience of the music, it changes the way a song feels to everyone in the room. To witness a dancer in private conversation with their heart through movement, starts a conversation with your own. These moments transcend the art and become something more.
I didn't expect to see God on Instagram tonight. Didn't expect to find God wedged between thirst traps and inane video clips. But isn't that just the thing - wherever people are, God will be, seeking closeness and connection.