The Broken Composer Who Gave the World Its Greatest Hallelujah

In April 1737, George Frideric Handel collapsed in his London home, struck by what doctors believed was a stroke. His right arm was paralyzed. His creditors circled. The opera companies he had poured his life into had failed, and London's musical elite had moved on to younger, more fashionable composers. At fifty-two, the man who had once dazzled kings was considered finished.

Yet Handel recovered against all medical expectation and threw himself back into composition. The real turning point came in August 1741, when a librettist named Charles Jennens handed him a scripture compilation centered on the life of Christ. Something ignited. In just twenty-four days, Handel composed the entirety of Messiah, barely eating or sleeping. When a servant brought him food during the Hallelujah Chorus, he reportedly found Handel weeping. "I did think I did see all Heaven before me," Handel said, "and the great God Himself."

The premiere in Dublin on April 13, 1742, was a triumph. The man the London establishment had discarded gave the world one of its greatest declarations of praise.

Psalm 118 knows this pattern intimately: "The stone the builders rejected has become the cornerstone." What the world dismisses, the Almighty reclaims. What others declare finished, God is only beginning. His steadfast love endures forever — even through paralysis, bankruptcy, and the cold shoulder of a fickle public. This is the day the Lord has made. Rejoice.