So many swirling, spinning worlds press into my mind and thoughts and eek their way into a slippery reality—one that rests on things and circumstances and all that can be seen with earthly eyes. But when the lights dim and that first clear note rings out…I remember who I am.
It is the day before Jeff’s birthday and there has been so much darkness surrounding our steps lately and I pray. I pray for something new—something older than the earth—something alive. We wait for Charlie Hall to take the stage and when he does it is with little fanfare—no electric light show, no big band. Just Charlie and his drummer, Dustin. There are sound problems and Charlie keeps stroking his goatee and his voice is as pure and sweet as when I first heard it—six years ago when my man finally opened his eyes and saw Jesus standing right beside him. Charlie’s voice was one of the ones that led him deeper. This kind of music is the language that reaches his heart.
We sit, expectant—waiting—for the music that is also a prayer and when the name of Jesus fills the air in this room our hearts swell.
And we remember who we are.
We sit in the dim light and lift our hands and our voices but I still feel a question rising up to meet this praise.
And then Charlie tells a story about a season in his life—a season of unanswered prayer and discontent. I kept pressing into God, he says. Deeper, and still, He did not change the circumstances. But I kept going and what I realized is this: He saved us once but he continues to save us every day. We have to put the Gospel before our own lives…
And he sings the question away.
The moonless night gives way and there is light and worship and I remember. The cross is a lucent guide and I hold it out in front of my life—edge along its luminosity.
And when I trip along in darkness and the truth of who I am seems too hard to remember I will put myself in places to receive the light—keep seeking truth.
Music is one of those places for me. How do you remember?
How do you embrace the God-joy? Every Monday I’ll be sharing one of my Playdates with God. I would love to hear about yours. It can be anything: outside, quiet time. Maybe it’s solitary. Maybe it’s loud and crowded. Just find Him. Be with Him. Grab my button at the bottom of the page and join us:
I’m a morning person and happiest in a place with no walls. Give me a bed of grass and a blanket-sky and I will dream deep in wonder. But a good story takes me to this place too. And a poem? Even better. You can always find me here. Or connect with me on on facebook, twitter, or pinterest.