Last evening as I was rummaging through old pictures I stumbled across this one. I’ve always loved this picture because it reminds me of how at home I feel when I worship the God I love through song. Yet as my eyes lingered there, I felt deep sadness at the realization that I honestly can’t recall the last time I uttered the words to the songs that still sing out loudly in my heart.
Life came in like a storm and it was a casualty lost in the wreckage that has since lain shipwrecked at the bottom of my heart. A raw realization of which I have long since grieved, yet forced myself to stomach.
Not for lack of opportunity, yet I’ve wrestled with the truth that somewhere along the way, I let an important part of who I am and what I have to bring drift far away. My music faded away without so much as a fight – eventually the words just wouldn’t come anymore. I’ve found myself literally speaking the words, “I don’t sing” to others.
And I have told the truth.
Maybe because somewhere along the way I stopped believing that what I had to offer wasn’t quite good enough, or maybe I allowed my own assumption of the opinion of man to have the final say. But this one thing is sure, nothing and no man can take another’s song away without his consent to let it go.
These words I write are a painful truth for me, more than anyone knows and one that I’ve shared with few. And I honestly don’t know the resolution here, maybe that season has come and gone for now. But on stage or off, in all of it’s imperfection, I was born with a song inside to sing.
But for this time, for the first time for as long as can remember, my place isn’t on a church stage behind a microphone.
And for now, I’m okay with letting myself learn to sing songs of worship again in the obscurity of my own little space with an audience of only one. And each time I do, I come to understand that a song, in all of it’s brokenness, that had one once been lost in the wreckage of life is not beautiful because of it’s perfection, or flashy lights or adoring crowds.
It is beautiful because what I have to offer is the overflow of the abundant life that dwells deep within. HE is the author of my song, and He has written sweet songs of grace upon the scores of my heart.
And because of that, because of Jesus, it is still a song of priceless worth to bring. And even a song that has been lost, can be redeemed.