The Legacy Handel Never Planned

By 1741, George Frideric Handel was a ruined man. The composer who had once dazzled London with Italian operas now faced mounting debts, empty concert halls, and a stroke that had partially paralyzed his right hand. For years, he had tried to build his own musical empire — lavish productions, grand theaters, royal patronage. All of it crumbled. At sixty-six, he believed his life's work was over.

Then a libretto arrived from Charles Jennens — a collection of scripture passages woven into a single narrative about the Messiah. In a feverish burst of twenty-four days, barely eating or sleeping, Handel composed what he later said came to him as if from beyond himself. When he wrote the "Hallelujah" chorus, his servant found him weeping. "I did think I did see all Heaven before me," Handel said, "and the great God Himself."

Handel had spent decades trying to build something grand for himself. El Shaddai had a different blueprint entirely.

This is the heartbeat of God's promise to David in 2 Samuel 7. David wanted to build the Almighty a house of cedar and stone. But God reversed the plan completely: "I will establish a house for you — a dynasty, a throne that endures forever." The Most High was not looking for a building contractor. He was establishing a covenant. What David could construct with his hands would eventually fall. What God would build through David's lineage would stand for eternity.

Sometimes our grandest plans must collapse so that God's greater promise can take their place.