A New Song

One of the comfortable places for me used to be behind a microphone, singing praises to our Lord, with my mom and family watching. I've been so incredibly blessed to be born into a family of singers. The little church where we attended had chairs set up in the back of the sanctuary. Usually eight, but when our friends sat with us, we would have 15-20 set up. We sat so close together that I could hear everyone's voice. My parents, though they would have never admitted it, have awesome voices. Mom was an alto, my dad a nice tenor. My sisters and I stole the show, but my brother could carry a tune too....although we still kid him about that one and only solo he did...

Years later, as The Lord allowed, I fell in love with a man who loves music just as much, if not more than I do. We have a talented little family....our 1 and 3 year olds can scream on the same note....and clap in beat!

My mom kept me singing. When life would take me down different paths, she was constant encouragement. She believed in the song I sang. My voice led her to the throne of God. She would stand boldly as I sang "Holy Ground" with hands held high, tears falling to the floor. She would plan her church's programs around mine and my husband's schedule just so we could "do the music." She had such confidence in us, even when we felt like we were winging it.

The last time I sang...I mean really sing....was July 19. We could think of anyone better to honor her with music than her family. Blindly, my sister and I stepped into recording booth and choke out "Beulah Land" and "Down to the River to Pray," two songs she begged us to do before but we never did. We listened to our voices at her funeral, and ever since then....well.

I've been lying to myself. I told myself that special music at church was a cop out. It gave the congregation a chance to sit back and relax while someone else does the praising. I thought it was wrong, and that each song we sing should be everyone's opportunity to worship The Lord. I cringed when music was even played....I would run and hide in our nursery. Did you catch that?? Most people skip out of the sermons, it was the music...MUSIC....that I couldn't stomach.

A couple of weeks ago, a battered friend....someone who has weathered a similar storm to myself, asked me to sing with her Easter Sunday. Tears poured down my face before I could get a grip on my stone cold heart. Did she really just ask me to sing? I told her I would "pray about it." I jumped in my car, and I just could not get a grip. I couldn't stop my tears. How long am I suppose to tell God no?

Psalms 40:3 says "He put a new song in my mouth, a song of praise to our God; many will see and fear and will trust in The Lord."

She apologized to me....no apology needed. How was she to know that I was wrestling with God about that very matter? In fact, I watched Him melt my heart almost overnight. She has a stunning voice, she's not quite as comfortable as I was, but she would sing specials occasionally. Through her own hurt....I questioned my own heart... Such courage it must have taken her to even want to sing?? The least I could do is swallow my pride and sing with her. Maybe it wouldn't conquer my quest but I could certainly help her. After all, she and I were in the same boat.

Then my husband told me I had a solo in the Easter Cantata....no ifs, ands or buts....it was mine. He had the entire choir gang up on me....I couldn't escape. So I sang it, as if second nature. And I sang it again.....turns out I am singing tonight, tomorrow, and Sunday morning.

My heart has changed about special music in a worship service..for the better. I keep talking about God healing my broken heart.....and He is.