On a Cold Winter’s Night…

One of the great classic Christmas carols, “The First Noel,” describes the night of Christ’s birth as a “cold winter’s night, that was so deep.”

It is dreamy and dramatic to think of Jesus coming into a cold, dark, dreary (and even snowy) world, bringing angels, glorious stars, kings bearing expensive gifts, and joyous songs.

We tend to look at Advent as a time of darkness and silence, in anticipation of the coming light and the Gospel. The idea that the world before the Birth of the Savior was cold continues the pattern of absence. Darkness does not exist independently. Neither does silence or cold. Each is the absence of something else– Light, sound, warmth–and it can only be known by the degree to which its opposite is reduced, distant, or absent.
In contrast, the light, sound, or warmth is made more evident in contrast with its opposite–we may not notice a slight difference in lighting on a sunny day, or a slight difference in temperature; but a candle in a dark room, or a whisper in a silent auditorium has a dramatic effect.

We don’t actually know the exact date of Jesus’ birth, and while December falls during winter, that doesn’t always mean a cold night in every part of the world. If shepherds were watching their flocks in fields just outside of Bethlehem, it is not likely that the temperatures were below freezing, or that there was snow and ice all around. The Middle East is not known for icy winters, after all. Nighttime generally brings colder temperatures, and it may be close to freezing by the middle of the night if you have no fire or protection from the wind, but a “cold winter’s night” is more likely to be found in Minnesota or Finland, not in Bethlehem, and usually in the middle of winter– January– rather than the beginning of the season.

However, just like the darkness and silence, the cold of that first Christmas was spiritual in nature. (https://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=John+1%3A9-12&version=ESV). Jesus entered a frigid world– a world of closed-off people, suspicious, oppressed, angry, sick, and world-weary. Hatred can be cold, but colder still is apathy and disdain and hopelessness. The world of Advent is a world desperate for the light and heat and sound of God’s love– not because God is absent, but because people have moved so far away from Him. The light becomes dimmer, the songs become a series of indistinct noises, and the cold and damp of night creep into our souls. Today, even with the hope and light of the Gospel story, we take our focus off of the true light of the world, and the true source of warmth and love, and too often focus on the lesser warmth of a new jacket, or the glittering lights of a shopping center, or the strident sounds of greed and envy.

Jesus may not have come in the cold of midwinter. But He came into a world of cold hearts as a helpless baby in a strange and unwelcoming land. And he was wrapped in rags and placed in a feeding trough– the warmest place that could be found. But even in this tiny, shivering baby, there was the warmth of Pure Love. And it was felt by all who came in contact with Him– shepherds rejoiced, Mary pondered, Wise Men knelt in adoration.

I love seeing candles and firesides at Christmas time– I love coming into a warm house, full of laughter and love, or singing carols on a cold night, and being invited inside to share the warmth. I love fellowship at church, and sharing a hug and a smile with those I meet. Imagine the warmth of God with us–All of the warmth and life of being wrapped in the arms of Grace, and held by the nail-scarred hands, never to be cold or alone ever again. Can you feel it? Can you anticipate it? Imagine passing that on to someone who has never known such warmth…on a cold winter’s night…

December 15, 2025 0

How Great Thou Art

Then sings my soul, my Savior God to Thee; How great Thou art, how great Thou art!

Clouds dot the cerulean sky,
A gentle breeze whispers,
And flowers nod as I walk
A country path.
Then sings my soul.

Trees bow and rain coils,
Gales roar and city streets
Shiver as I wait
In sheltered awe.
Then sings my soul.

A newborn nestles in my arms
Making sucking noises
In its slumber,
As arms and legs
Learn to measure open space.
Then sings my soul.

Families gather in black
Murmuring comfort
In somber tones
As they learn to
Measure the empty space.
Then sings my soul.

How Great Thou Art!
How awesome in power!
How glorious your Creation!
How mysterious your ways!
How lavish in Life,
And triumphant over Death!

My souls sings;
Sometimes sweet and low,
And sometimes keening.
My soul dances;
It reels and skips and sways.
My soul cries and laughs and trills.
But always, it says,
“How Great Thou Art!”

April 23, 2025 0

Mr. Teeter’s Song

When I was growing up, there was a man in our church named Mr. Teeter. He seemed impossibly old when I was a child– he’d been born in the 1800s! And he and his wife often looked like they were still living in the previous century. Mrs. Teeter wore dark-colored dresses that came past her calf, sturdy shoes, and a white cap over her carefully arranged, long white hair. Mr. Teeter always wore a suit to church, complete with a gray fedora. Mr. and Mrs. Teeter were both short–he was probably no taller than 5’4″, and she barely cleared five feet in height.

One of the weekly church meetings we attended was mid-week prayer meeting. Sometimes, we would start with worship and singing. Various people would call out old favorite hymns. Sometimes we had a pianist; sometimes we sang a Capella. And almost invariably, Mr. Teeter would request the same old hymn. He liked other hymns–“What a Friend We Have in Jesus,” or “He Lives! He Lives! I know He lives; He lives within my heart.” But his clear favorite was “I Love to Tell the Story.”

As a child, I found this frustrating. First of all, I liked to sing a variety of songs; this one was NOT one of my favorites, and I thought we were “wasting time” by always singing the same old songs. Secondly, because of his age, everyone deferred to Mr. Teeter, so even if other songs were called out, it was a given that his choice would probably win out.

But one evening, Mr. Teeter explained WHY he loved this old hymn so much. He said he had lived a rough life in his younger years– he drank more than he should, and he had a short temper. I was shocked. I could not imagine this tiny, wrinkled, gentle man as being anything other than how I knew him. He was dapper, soft-spoken, kind, and wise. When his wife suffered a stroke, he patiently and lovingly cared for her. He was generous and compassionate, even if I thought his musical taste was more limited than it might have been.

Instead of singing the song, he read it aloud. And after a couple of phrases, he would linger and talk about how, all these years later, he was still in love with the simple Gospel message– that Christ died for sinners, rose again and offered forgiveness and redemption to all who believed in Him. Mr. Teeter had never forgotten the joy and wonder of his Salvation. He never tired of “the old, old story” because it had changed his life in a dramatic and eternally satisfying way. Mr. Teeter died when I was still a teenager. He had cared for his wife until she died, and he was at peace when it came time to leave his life on earth. In fact, his face almost glowed as he lay in his casket. He was absent from the body, and ready to sing the “new, new song.”

There was nothing slick or intellectually challenging about Mr. Teeter’s testimony, but it was very real and powerfully moving. There was nothing musically exciting about the song he loved, but the message was eternally true, and worth singing over and over again. So many years later, whenever I hear this timeless hymn, I am reminded of how Jesus changed my life, and how grateful I am to sing His praises.

Today, as I remember Mr. Teeter and his faithful witness of God’s love and mercy, I pray that you know the simple and enduring truth of Christ’s love for you. And I pray that we would be as faithful in proclaiming the “Old, Old story of Jesus and His Love” as we go through life.

January 24, 2025 0

I Just Called to Say…

Near the end of 2020, my mother took a bad fall and broke her hip. Because of COVID, we were not allowed to visit her while she was recuperating. Thankfully, she had her cell phone and was able to make and receive phone calls. My mom was a very independent sort, but she loved to be “in the know” about all that was happening in the neighborhood and among our family members– births, deaths, hospitalizations, relocations, etc.. But, for all her interest in “what’s new,” Mom was completely computer-illiterate. She didn’t text, she didn’t have e-mail, and she knew nothing of social media. She relied on her phone and her desk calendar and notepad. Being trapped in a nursing home for six weeks was torture for her, even though she needed to recover and do physical therapy there. I tried to call her every day, and each time, she would ask, “Do you have any news?”

Sometimes, I had “news” for her; someone had tested positive for COVID, or a new baby had been born. But most days, I had to tell her– “I just called to say I love you, and I’m thinking of you.” And I could “hear” her smile on the other end of the line as she replied, “well, that means a lot. I just love to hear your voice.”

I don’t know why, but it struck me the other day how often we pray about circumstances– we “call” on God because we have “news”– situations that we want to bring to His attention– as if He didn’t already know! We pray because we want to lift up someone who is ill or suffering; we pray because we need to make a confession and ask forgiveness; we pray because we are facing an unknown future, and we desire God’s guidance and wisdom. Other times, we pray because we have a specific praise or thanks to offer. These are all legitimate reasons to reach out to God in prayer, and we certainly SHOULD pray in all circumstances, but how often do we call on God just to say, “I love you and I am thinking of you!” In fact, how often do we take the time to disconnect from social media and all the other distractions of our day to really focus on spending time with God?

Mom went back in a nursing home a couple of years after her first fall…she fell again and broke her other leg! So, I called her nearly every day– with or without “news.”

I marvel that God is every bit as eager to hear from me– even me– every day, “just because.” I’m so glad that I had the ability to talk to Mom; to hear her voice–and yes, even to share the “news.” She has been gone almost two years now, but what precious memories of our time together on the phone! How much greater my joy that I can talk to my creator; that I don’t have to worry about a busy signal or dropped call; that I can read His words to me any time of day; that His presence–even though I can’t see Him or hear His voice–follows me everywhere. And that He sends special people to call me, or text, or e-mail– “just because.” And no matter how I feel about my circumstances, God is so very glad to hear from me. And you!

This isn’t a hymn, but the music was running through my head as I wrote this. How often to we hear a ballad or a love song, and suddenly realize that God sings love songs over us?! (See Zephaniah 3:17!)

January 8, 2025 0

Let No Tongue On Earth Be Silent..

“O ye heights of Heav’n, adore Him,
Angel hosts His praises sing.
Pow’rs, dominions, bow before Him,
And extol our God and King.
Let no tongue on earth be silent,
Ev’ry voice in concert ring,
Evermore and Evermore!”

“Silent night, Holy night…” Tradition has it that Christ was born on a cold and silent night. The Bible doesn’t exactly say when he was born. It does say that the angels appeared to shepherds who were keeping watch over their flocks by night; and that the wise men of the East followed a star to find the newborn King. But the Bible doesn’t talk about the night being unnaturally silent or cold– these are details we’ve added to the story that may or may not be accurate.

But one thing is certain– whatever silence may have settled over Bethlehem near the time of Christ’s arrival; whatever lull in the hustle and bustle of the busy city’s streets–there was no silence among those who heard the good news of His birth. From the singing hosts of Heaven’s angels, to the excited voices of the shepherds, the inquiring whispers among the wise men, and the nervous recitations of the prophecies among Herod’s advisors, Christ’s birth was met with a symphony of reaction.

And so it continues–as Christmas Eve and Christmas Day approach, hymns will be sung, rich with words like “Hallelujah,” “Joy, ” “Blessed,” “Adore,” “Savior,” “Lord,” “Wonder,” “Glory,” “In Excelsis Deo,” “Redeemer,” “King,” and “Emmanuel!” From every nation, and in every language, praise and worship will erupt from homes and churches. And this is in addition to prayer and worship that rises in an unbroken stream around the globe each day, every day.

Even during this time of Advent, when we spend some time in silent reflection, we await the music and joyful sounds of Christmas. And we have songs for this season, too. Songs and prayers as we think abou the glory to come.

It fills me with wonder to think that at any given moment, someone, somewhere, is praying and praising our Wonderful God. But millions of tongues are silent– even on Christmas–in response to God’s Everlasting Love and Grace. There are millions, even billions of tongues that will greet Christmas Day without wonder, without hope, without joy. Billions who will grumble about the weather, or the outcome of a sporting match, or their family relationships. Tongues that might be singing will be mumbling, boasting, yelling, or complaining this season.

Someday, “no tongue on earth” will be able to keep silent in response to the Messiah. “Every knee shall bow, in Heaven and on earth and under the earth, and every tongue confess that Jesus Christ is Lord, to the glory of God the Father.” (Philippians 2:10b-11 NIV)

Can you imagine a choir made up of every single human being–“every voice in concert”– declaring the worth and majesty of God’s Holy Lamb?! This babe born to be the Prince of Peace; this Only Begotten of the Father; our Emmanuel– He is worthy of such a concert! Let NO TONGUE on Earth be silent! Let us Extol Him! How Great Our Joy!!

December 4, 2024 0

Where Grief Meets Hope

We lost a family member a couple of weeks ago. We were shocked and heartbroken to hear of his loss. To know that we will never get to hear his laughter or watch his eyes crinkle up over a good joke; never hear him enthuse over history or a great movie; never enjoy the fellowship of being in the same room together again. He never got to retire from his job; never got to walk his daughters down the aisle; never got to enjoy the house he and my sister-in-law planned to build.

BUT

Chris had a wonderful life in many ways. He and his wife have three amazing adult children. He got to enjoy plenty of days loving nature and enjoying a good sunset over Lake Michigan. He harvested many morels each spring. He made music. He helped hundreds of people in hundreds of little ways. He was blessed.

We went to Chris’s funeral last weekend. We helped celebrate his life– his accomplishments and achievements, his vivid personality, his sense of humor– and we celebrated his Faith. Yes, there were tears at the funeral. We will miss Chris in the years to come. But we share his faith and his great hope. We will miss him temporarily. We will grieve for a few years. And then, we will experience a joy that will make us forget the grief! Not only will we see Chris again– to laugh together and share stories and songs– we will be in the presence of our source of Life, and Hope, Joy and Peace! We will be surrounded by the great cloud of witnesses as we live eternally with the One who loves us best!

Many years ago, another man died. There was grief, stunned disbelief, and terror. The family, friends, and followers of Jesus Christ mourned. They hid. Their world was dark with despair and anguish. All these years later, we look at paintings and sculptures of Jesus suffering on the cross. But, while we shudder at the horror of all He suffered, we do not look on such pictures with fear or despair. The Cross is not a symbol of Death’s ultimate victory, but rather its ultimate defeat. Jesus didn’t stay dead. His body was buried, but He did not stay there. We celebrate, not the horrors of the Cross, but the limits of its power to steal our joy.

This is where grief meets hope. It is where the past is overwhelmed by the promise of Eternity. Christians grieve– of course we do. We love life, and we grieve to see it end. We love being with friends and family– we feel an emptiness and an ache when someone we love is “missing.” But we do NOT grieve without hope. We acknowledge the brief sting of loss. But Death loses its sting in the light of Christ’s victory. There is no lasting victory in the grave. Our time is short; we are powerless to stop death from taking us; from taking our loved ones. But Eternity beckons! Even our time on earth gives us daily reminders– the sun rises each morning; spring comes after each winter; children grow into parents, and we get to love another generation.

Even when life is hard; when grief looms large and hope seems dim– hope does not disappoint! Because Christ LIVES!

Chris was buried earlier this week– his body was buried– but he LIVES. He is healed and freed of all the pains and frustrations of this earthly life, and because of Christ’s gift of Grace and Redemption, Chris is living all that he once hoped for. Because of Christ’s great gift, many of us will someday join him in singing God’s praises, in laughter, delight, and endless joy!

August 16, 2024 1

Praying in Tune

I have a song that Jesus gave me,
It was sent from Heaven above;
There never was a sweeter melody,
‘Tis a melody of love.

I love the Christ who died on Calvary,
For He washed my sins away;
He put within my heart a melody,
And I know it’s there to stay.

‘Twill be my endless theme in Glory;
With the angels I will sing;
‘Twill be a song with glorious harmony,
When the courts of Heaven ring!

In my heart there rings a melody,
There rings a melody with Heaven’s harmony;
In my heart there rings a melody;
There rings a melody of Love.

Hymn by Elton M. Roth (1891-1951)

My grandfather had perfect pitch–he could hear a musical note and tell you what the note was or whether it was “in tune”. He loved music and taught himself to play several musical instruments, including trombone, ukulele, auto harp, thumb harp, saxophone, violin, flute, banjo, dulcimer, trumpet, penny whistle, ocarina, and harmonica. My grandmother played piano, organ, and a host of percussion instruments.

My grandfather could hear perfect pitch, but he rarely sang. He could make wonderful music with instruments, but not with his own voice. He might have done so, but he never bothered to practice. In fact, while he could play a multitude of instruments, he never became proficient on any of them.

music note book and silver soprano flute close up photography

Prayer is accessible to anyone, as is music, but tuning and practice are required if we want to pursue prayer as a discipline and a means to develop a more harmonious relationship with God. Prayers that are out of tune can be sharp– nagging, complaining attempts to bargain with God; or they can be flat– lifeless and empty of trust and affection. Prayers that lead to growth, healing, and change are those that are “attuned” to the heart of God. What a sweet song of praise when we live in harmony with God and others– working, growing, sharing, and singing together.

I don’t have perfect pitch– I can usually hear if my voice or my flute seems out of tune with another instrument or other voices, but sometimes I need help. The same is true of my pursuit of prayer. I need help to keep in tune– a prayer journal is one tool I use. But it also helps to have a prayer group or prayer partner, a prayer list, or a book of prayer. For more ideas, see: Proactive Prayer Points and Prayer Journal.

July 15, 2024 0

“Bathed” in Prayer

We were reviewing last week’s VBS at our church–sharing stories, “crunching” numbers, evaluating the various elements that made up each day… One of the phrases that came out of our various talks and meetings was that Bible School week had been “bathed in prayer.” What does that actually mean?

For me, it represents how prayer surrounded us– much like bath water.

It covered every part of our efforts– we prayed for the children who were registered– and those who came unexpectedly as guests. We prayed for the families of the children–those from our church, those from neighboring churches, and those who are unchurched. We prayed for all the volunteers– teens, adults, those who where there each day of VBS, and those who helped before and after with decorations, building, providing supplies and funding, advertising, etc. We prayed for each team– teaching, drama, singing, videography, sound and lights, registration, group leaders, science and crafts, snacks, sports and games, record-keeping, security, and more! We prayed weeks before VBS, and we are still praying that the seeds planted last week will grow and produce a harvest!
It flowed freely. We had organized prayer meetings, and spontaneous outbursts of prayer. We prayed in the “opportune moment” and in the planned schedule. Prayer was a consistent part of each day, but came in random bursts, as well. It came from staff, from volunteers, from children and retirees. Everyone can’t work at VBS– but everyone can pray!

It “cleansed” our efforts. It is easy to get side-tracked with the chaos and fol-de-rol of an event like Bible School. It is easy to lose focus and let stress, frustration, and even bitterness worm their way into our efforts. On the very first day, our registration and check-in system crashed– and this could have been a disaster. But we had prayed before; we prayed during our confusion, and we praised God that, system or no, HE knew who was there, where they should go, and how we should respond to THEM. We are in the middle of a construction project in our children’s wing– we had to plan around fewer classrooms available, and less indoor space. On the hottest week of the summer (so far) we had to hope that the weather would cooperate for our games. God provided cloud cover on at least two of the mornings, and overnight showers– we did not have to deal with heavy rains or the worst heat of the day on any of our days! And (at least partly) because we had prayed in advance, we were grateful instead of stressful about our circumstances, marveling at God’s provision.
Praying brings peace– like the clean and relaxed feeling you have after a good soak in the bath! And I hope that peace was reflected in the way we welcomed each child each day– in the way we listened, and in the way we spoke; in the way we encouraged, and in the way we taught; in the way we interacted with the children, and with the other volunteers.

We tend to “bathe” our “big concerns” in prayer. But what about our “little things?” What if we spent as much time praying about our next doctor appointment? Our next church service? Our next family outing?

We NEED prayer! Our efforts, without prayer, humility, and submission to the Spirit of the Lord, will be fruitless. With prayer, our lives, efforts, and plans will be clean, and bring Glory to God!

Just a thought– but if we bathed more things in prayer, we might just receive more “showers of blessing!”

June 28, 2024 0

Praying From the Basement

I grew up in a rambling, pre-1860s farmhouse in rural southwestern Michigan. We had a “Michigan basement”,” “– unfinished dirt floors, walls made of fieldstone and rocks, crudely cemented together, exposed floorboards and joists from the ground floor providing a ceiling. A rickety wooden stairway ended in a small cemented landing. It was a haven for dust and cobwebs, and everything in the basement had a grimy film of dust mixed with the residue of an old oil-burning furnace. It was littered with “dead” things– a rusted-out bicycle frame from the 1940s; a long-forgotten set of rattan patio furniture with mildewed pads and broken wicker bits sticking out underneath; a broken rake; and, in one corner, what looked like the skeleton of a small rodent. There was an old cabinet, formerly with two doors, now standing with one door hanging askew, and the other one missing all but half a hinge piece. Inside were old Mason jars, rimmed with lime deposits, holding nails, screws, nuts and bolts, and other odds and ends, and more Mason jars holding home-canned tomatoes from a garden of unknown vintage. There was a single 40-watt incandescent light bulb screwed into an ancient ceramic socket and mounted on one of the overhead floorboards, which did little to diminish the general sense of gloom and decay. There were four small windows–but they had long ago succumbed to grime and dirt from inside and out. It was the stuff of childhood nightmares.

Last week, we had a tornado warning, and one of my friends from church spoke of taking her children to the basement to wait out the weather. It reminded me of my own mother, gathering my sister and I– sometimes pulling us from our beds– and taking us to shelter in the basement until a storm had passed. My father often worked the night shift, and so the job was left to Mom to herd us into the southwest corner of the basement, being sure to bring a blanket and a flashlight, and make sure we were wearing slippers or shoes. She also had an old portable AM/FM radio, so we could listen to the weather bulletins amidst the gloom and dust and damp of the basement.

And yet–

My memories of going to the basement during a storm are not memories that inspire terror or disgust. I never wanted to visit the basement any other time, but during a storm, it was our “safe” place. The winds and rain and hail might rage outside, but we were warm and snug (sometimes too warm!) in our little corner. And no matter how frightened my mom may have been, she always reassured us that we would be safe together in that place. And then, she would lead us in prayer. We prayed that Dad would be safe at work. We prayed for anyone who was in the path of the storm. We prayed that God would protect our house. We prayed for those who were on the road, and for those who would have to go out after the storm to fix electric lines or rescue others. And we thanked God for our basement!

Sometimes, God uses grubby basements to be our “safe” place. What otherwise may seem like a scary situation can become a cause for praise and celebration when we remember that God is with us!

I think of the prophet Jeremiah, who was arrested and thrown into a cistern–a place far worse than our basement– but God caused him to be rescued (https://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=Jeremiah%2038&version=NIV). He went from the mud-filled cistern to the palace of the King! And even though Jeremiah faced many other trials and griefs, Jeremiah was able to write: “

I remember my affliction and my wandering,
    the bitterness and the gall.
²⁰I well remember them,
    and my soul is downcast within me.
²¹Yet this I call to mind
    and therefore I have hope:

²²Because of the Lord’s great love we are not consumed,
    for his compassions never fail.
²³They are new every morning;
    great is your faithfulness.
²⁴I say to myself, “The Lord is my portion;
    therefore I will wait for him.”
(Lamentations 3:19-24 NIV)

And I think of Paul and Silas in prison in Philippi (https://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=Acts%2016:16-34&version=ESV ). They sang and prayed after having been beaten and unfairly arrested. And they were trapped in the prison when an earthquake hit! But the end result was not only their vindication and freedom, but salvation for the Philippian jailor and his family!

There are seasons when we are forced to go to the basement–literally and figuratively. There are times when we must sit and wait in the dark and damp, uncertain of where the storm will hit or how long it will last. But often, in those basement moments, we find ourselves closer to God than when we climb mountains! God sits with us in the gloom. God has the power to turn our fear and uncertainty into praise and worship. And God will bring those memories of His comfort and strength back to us in other times of trouble.

May 13, 2024 0

In My Heart There Rings a Melody

As I edit this, the sun is shining and melting the last of an early spring snow. It’s been a mostly pleasant day, and I’m writing this in anticipation of a pleasant week ahead. This will post on Monday morning– a brand new week, hopefully filled with new opportunities and adventures. Of course, not every day is like this. Some days are dreary, full of stress and anxiety, and filled with challenges and even tragedies. But I have been thinking about a song I learned in childhood, one that has blessed me over the years and helped me on many a dreary day, as well as on days like today.

“I have a song that Jesus gave me,
It was sent from heav’n above;
There never was a sweeter melody,
‘Tis a melody of love.

I love the Christ who died on Calv’ry,
For He washed my sins away;
He put within my heart a melody,
And I know it’s there to stay.

In my heart there rings a melody,
There rings a melody with heaven’s harmony;
In my heart there rings a melody,
There rings a melody of love.

‘Twill be my endless theme in glory,
With the angels I will sing;
‘Twill be a song with glorious harmony,
When the courts of heaven ring.

On days like today, it is easy to sing a happy tune– sunlight, shimmering snow and icicles, viewed from my nice cozy perch by the window–but the joyful song that Jesus brings rings through good days and bad; sorrow and stress; triumphs and failures. It is eternal and filled with the limitless Love of God. It is a song of peace that passes all understanding, and a confidence that sees beyond circumstances.

Sometimes, when life seems devoid of light and peace, it has less to do with our actual circumstances, and more to do with our unwillingness to look up from them. Throughout the Old Testament (and even in the New Testament) people would create songs as part of their worship–some songs celebrated God’s provision and protection; others spoke of His character and His faithfulness. But these songs weren’t just for celebration and services of worship– they were used to remind us in good times and bad, that God’s love never changes. The same God who brings victory and miracles will be with us in times of despair. The same God who sees us in our most desperate hour of need is there with us when we are enjoying a beautiful sunset.

Today, I pray that we would take a few moments, find a song or a Psalm, and just sing a prayer to our maker. It doesn’t have to be a peppy song of praise– it may even be a song of yearning or anguish– but let it be a song that rises above our day and finds the ear of the One who loves us better than anyone else. It doesn’t matter if you can’t carry a tune; God listens to the heart! Sing the song that Jesus gives to you today. Your heart will be blessed. And it will bless the very heart of your Maker, as well.

March 25, 2024 0

Tag: singing