Soundtrack of the Spirit

Michael Andres

May 1, 2025

Reading

Then he was told, “Go, stand on the mountain at attention before God. God will pass by.” A hurricane wind ripped through the mountains and shattered the rocks before God, but God wasn’t to be found in the wind; after the wind an earthquake, but God wasn’t in the earthquake; and after the earthquake fire, but God wasn’t in the fire; and after the fire a gentle and quiet whisper.
1 Kings 19:11-12 (The Message)

Reflection

There are times in my life when I’ve wished I could score the moment — not describe it, not narrate it, but underscore it.

Have you ever had those moments? Where you just want to hand someone a pair of headphones and have it transport them to where you and your shoes stood —so they could share in your joy, grow in their empathy, and connect with you at the intersection of humanity and divinity?

No? Just me? Cool…cool, cool, cool.

Anyway.

I think sometimes if the right cello swelled or the right note dropped, it would help explain the ache in my chest, or help me hold the weight of joy, or maybe name the things I can’t quite say out loud.

Lately, I’ve found myself switching off the TV earlier and putting my phone down sooner — not fully unplugging, maybe just changing the frequency. I don’t necessarily want silence, but I also don’t want plotlines or politics. I want music. I want atmosphere.

I want a soundtrack that lets my brain begin to wind down without totally going dark. (I don’t know if that’s scientifically a thing or not, but I hope one of the smart folks reading this will let me know it is a thing!) Changing frequencies feels real, though — moving through the day’s narrative into the night’s nuance, where there’s space and time to feel and hear the Spirit move.

The other night I was listening to Glen Hansard — an Irish busker turned Academy Award winner, and just about everything in between. The algorithm on my Apple Music account picked the order, not me. It was math, logic, and predictive flow. And yet, it might as well have been the creative, artistic, curious movement of God — a liturgy for listening.

I believe the Holy Spirit moves.

Even through data and a late-night shuffle. The Spirit speaks in wind and in whisper, in Scripture and in strings, through our stories and in our songs. It meets us — not just in worship or classes — but in the soundtracks we didn’t know we needed, delivering wordless sermons in tone, pacing, and progression.

That night’s liturgy moved in three movements:
desperation, longing, and blessing.

It reminded me that ache matters, hope endures, and the blessing still comes.

Maybe you’ve been scoring your own scenes lately — maybe you’ve found that one song that knows too much about you. Or maybe you’re just waiting for the soundtrack to shift.

Wherever you are, and however you are, the Spirit is near.

Still composing.
Still speaking.
Still making meaning from every note.

Prayer
Today we close with a prayer from the Psalms — one for the ache, the hope, and the blessing still to come:
Create in me a clean heart, O God,
And put a new and right spirit within me.
Do not cast me away from your presence,
And do not take your holy spirit from me.
Restore to me the joy of your salvation,
And sustain in me a willing spirit
(Psalm 51:10-12)