Music, created by us, or for us?

Music has been a major influence in most peoples lives. It has soothed and inspired since the dawn of modern man. No matter what worldview you have, one thing is for sure, music is a powerful thing.

But why? Why has every culture in history used some form of music to worship, mourn, celebrate etc.?

One of the reasons I believe, is that music was made for us, not by us. I believe it is one more thing that gives evidence towards a creator.

Recent studies have shown that music has many positive effects on people. For instance, it has shown to boost one's immune system after surgery causing a faster recovery rate. It has shown to lower blood pressure, reduce stress, and even treat depression. It has even shown to help stroke victims who have lost the ability to speak learn once again.

In a recent article in Discovery health, it was stated that "The neurological studies of music on the brain seem to indicate that we're hardwired to interpret and react emotionally to a piece of music." Hardwired! Why would one naturally be hardwired to a thing that was created by man, who was made from an unguided process, which was caused by a chemical reaction, that caused life "accidentally,"on a planet that is astronomically fine-tuned for life, "accidentally."

Although this research is fairly new, I could site article after article on this subject. I will spare you the pain, but if you think that I am pulling your leg, just google "neuroscience and music." Enough resources should come up for you to do your own research.

Just some food for thought. This by no means gives us proof of any creator, but as a great man once said, "We speak of evidence, not proof. You only find proof in the field of mathematics." But this is an interesting find none the less.

A desperate cry

I lye in the midst of my suffering, covered in mud, blood and rain. What seams to be a thousand flashes per second illuminates the reality of my current circumstances. My foxhole has become my only companion, my only comfort. My ears ring in pain as bombs explode in every direction. If there's a hell, then I'm in it. You never know what a complete loss of hope feels like, until you're forced to embrace it. The loss of hope ironically becomes your only hope. It is the brilliant knowledge that this world, which brings so much chaos, so much torture, and so much pain is finally coming to an end, or at least your perception of it. Now I can only lye in wait. This war is nothing compared to the war I faced in my daily life. It only adds to the twisted humor of Gods perfection.

I take a deep breath, which is but a pitiful sigh as the blood fills my lungs. Foreign tongues are heard all around which is the revelation that the enemy is closing in. Panic rushes over me as I desperately wonder where my battalion is, and the great sadness overwhelms me as I realize they are most likely suffering the same fate as I, A lonely death. "In pain we mostly live and in pain we will mostly die." It is the only quote that sticks in my mind. What truer words could a man speak? I'm living proof of this, but not for long.

I've always heard that in the last moments of a man's life he is forced to examine how he lived. Hopefully he will find some meaning to his existence bigger than himself. I find this statement to be true, because the only thing that comes to mind is the worthless life that I have lived. I've lived mostly for myself. I have loved nobody more than myself. God knows why. If I could only go back I would love with the intensity that love was meant to be. Now its too late, and I lye alone and wait.

Oh how I wish I could rewind the tape and edit the scenes. I now see how simple it was. To love is the essence of life. To live selflessly for others is the only meaning I see as everything unfolds. That is the exact opposite of how I lived. Now it's too late. I'm haunted by the faces I used in my life. "I'm so sorry! I'm so sorry! I'm so sorry!" I shout in desperation. If only they could hear, but they can't.

If only for one moment I could hold my wife and tell her how much more she deserved from me. I would hold her and tell her how much worth she has. I would tell her how beautiful she is and how I love her with all my heart. Life is but a cruel joke in the fact that you never know what you have till it's lost.

All I have now is the sting of death, which is nothing compared to the pain I feel in my heart. I would embrace this pain every day if only I could be free from my guilt and regret. But I'm now stuck with all three. "Lord I do not ask you to save me from my circumstances. I pray you save me from myself." The final revelation to my life was this. Save me from myself.

Fact or speculation?

I have spent many nights awake questioning. Questioning the meaning of life. Questioning God. Questioning science. I have spent hours studying philosophy, religion, and science. All in the hope of finding some definite answers to the questions that at times have driven better men than me to insanity.
I have watched many debates on theism vs atheism, read countless articles, etc. At the end of the day, I have come away with one definite answer to my questions. Life is speculative. Evidence seems to be speculative. An interpretation is based on one's already formed worldview. For example, two scientists study the complexity of life. One is an atheist, and the other a theist. The atheist will see the evidence at hand and it will confirm his atheism. "At last, we understand how life works. We now have no need for a god!" The theist will look at the exact information at hand and will shout to the heavens, "what a glorious God we have, life is so complex it can only point to an amazing creator!" Each one is made up his own mind. The information is the same, the conclusions are opposite.
I have made up my mind. I shall follow a God who I have found to give meaning and purpose to my life. Each man must make up his own mind. May we always have the freedom to do so.

Our declining culture.

our meaning is falling though everything we can see
through our glazed eyes we have cured our disease
be gone! We have said, we need you no more
your fictitious words can harm us no more

your hope is our folly, your love is a shame
the words you have spoken are foolish and vain
fairy tales! fairy tales! we shout through the night
as we hide in the darkness and strike in delight

we'll take his gold, we'll take his thing's
this is the life no values will bring
but in the name of progress we destroy his fame
and into the evening our hope shall fade