|City Park, New Orleans, Louisiana|
A very long time ago, when I was in junior high school, my oldest sister was in a devastating car accident that almost ended her life. Her life was saved by the skilled doctors and nurses attending her, but she has suffered physical pain, as well as emotional pain to be sure, since that day. The nerves in her legs and feet were damaged beyond repair. I remember the peace that engulfed me, as I sat pondering her broken state, laying in a hospital bed.
I have seen her suffer over the decades, most of the time without a word of complaint, as she pursued and achieved many of her goals: university degree, a challenging career, marriage, and family life. I don't understand her pain, her persistence, her patience. I admire her immensely. Yet, I know her strength is in Christ, as she has put her trust in him. Through his power, she can dance through her mostly silent tears.
Over the past few days, I have had reason to feel over my head, caught up in the fray, without strength. Will I sing on the battlefield? Will I dance through my tears? I hope to spend part of my Sabbath rest today doing just that: joining in praise to God, being filled with joy and peace beyond my understanding despite my circumstances.
Worshipping God is more than an arbitrary command from a seemingly archaic God.
No. It's more.
When we sing, when we gather as believers in worship, there is another Presence bringing power that multiplies in our midst. When we give him the worship due him, we became more like the creatures he intended us to be: people who have peace, love and joy even when the battles are raging.
I invite you to listen to this music clip by Kathryn Scott, a songwriter from the United Kingdom. The YouTube version has embedding disabled so I cannot publish it on this site. However, if you follow the link here, you will be able to listen to Sing on the Battlefield.
May I invite you along for another challenge? Take time to rest today. If you cannot, due to work or schedules, make time to set aside a day of rest each week, so that you, too, can dance through the tears.