Come, let us sing for joy to the LORD.
Psalm 95:1
Back in the day I was “a singer who happened to preach.” It all started with “The Fire” followed by “Whatever It Takes.” Those were the most requested. Over 10-15 years there were so many others, plus three self-produced albums with several songs I wrote. Songs for Sandy, songs for Graham, songs about my story, but all for Jesus.
One of my favorite audiences were the disabled. They wanted to hear “Home Free.” Tears everywhere. I even got to sing it onstage with Joni a couple times.
Because of my brokenness and disability I gravitated to songs geared for the suffering. Christine Wyrtzen’s album, For Those Who Hurt, struck a chord that has stayed with me to this day.
Does Jesus Care, Tears Are A Language God Understands, Peace In The Midst Of The Storm, just so many. My college friend Kim wrote a song around the time of my accident, God Makes No Mistakes, which I’ve sung a ton of times with Sandy at the keyboard. Pow.er.ful.
Jesus Led Me All The Way. Goodness, I’m waxing nostalgic today. I’ve Never Been Out Of His Care. Oh yeah, that one too.
It wasn’t really a dream of mine to be a “singer who happened to preach” but the other way around. I love to sing but preaching is my calling. Still, I jibe with the occasional tickle to sing to the church again, especially for the wounded ones who weekly (weakly?) sit in our pews. Maybe one more shot at Home Free for my friends at Handi*Camp or Christian Overcomers. Perhaps a reunion with Joni. Or a duet of My Savior First Of All with Sandy.
I suppose what has me musing and all misty about the ministry of song today was a rabbit trail I took in Psalm 95. “Come, let us sing…” The middle verses got me humming a certain Maranatha chorus I heard long ago. You’ll know it too. The first part of the psalm is nostalgic and celebratory. The last refrain reminds us the Church gathered isn’t always a pretty sight.
The truth is we are a wilderness people and when we gather together to worship our Lord, we are worshiping him out of our desert places. Look around next Sunday. Watch the people. No one has it all together. Nobody has arrived.
Many of the people who assemble on Sundays have come through a week out in the wilderness and haven’t fared so well. Some have had seven days of Meribah. Others may have gotten testy with God or they’ve failed in the way and fallen flat on their face. Here and there are those who are losing faith in the whole process. A joyful number have manna on their breath and are just riding that high.
It’s a safe bet no one’s face will shine so brightly they’ll have to cover it. Probably not even your pastor.
Somebody will be there who feels out of place because they come from a lesser tribe, a labeled past. You’ll know them because they barely lift their eyes.
More than one will come with one foot in promise and another in Egypt. Some of those may even have a golden calf still hiding in their closet somewhere.
To your left might be a once-gifted-leader who blew it big time and is just a shell of the man he once was.
There will be a worshipper nearby who remembers all too well the leprosy of her sin. Her friends remember it too.
A great many however, will have stood on the banks of the Sea and seen God make his name famous. They will, as the first verse in the very next chapter says, “Sing to the LORD a new song.” Such are witnesses to the waters being lifted up and pushed aside, making a way for them to pass through on dry land. They can tell you about that day. Some will weep in worship, others will dance and clap. Some will just stand there shaking their head, still in disbelief.
“Come, let us bow worship and bow down…”
So sing we will, with desert sand between our toes, because Jesus came and changed the Story. To that end “A Christian should be an alleluia from head to foot,” said Augustine.
Through him then let us continually offer up a sacrifice of praise to God, that is, the fruit of our lips, acknowledging his name.
Hebrews 13:15
I want to sing. I want to sing all those songs I mentioned above, but I don’t want to sing to you; I want to sing with you. A choir, no solos. Broken saints, doubting saints, beleaguered, tired, whipped saints, happy saints, all. “Come, let us sing!” Sing with me, will you?
What shall we sing?
P. S. Here’s the song that started it all for me:
A flood of memories came back reading your devotional message….I remember like it was yesterday all those songs you mentioned, have the sheet music for them and have sung/played them. I cannot help but think of you and Sandy everytime I read/ sing/ play THE FIRE or WHATEVER IT TAKES as well as GOD MAKES NO MISTAKES. There’s nothing that can compare to the sound of a choir singing His praises! I have cherished the sound of all the combined choirs singing, Handel’s MESSIAH in the gym at TTU! It was magnificent! Looking forward to praising together in that Heavenly choir! “Until then, my heart will go on singing…!”
I knew you’d track with me, Beth! You know, as I was reminiscing to our time at TTU and HPBC, I couldn’t help but yearn again to be in that auditorium with Dr Faulkner up there bouncing as he led us in “I Sought A Flag To Follow” (and other anthems). I mean, the congregational singing so loud you couldn’t hear your own voice! And, yes, you are so right. The combined choirs bellowing the *entirety* of The Messiah…So many grand memories… a foretaste, yes?
A Foretaste of Heaven’s music indeed!
Casting my voice for a duet with Sandy ! Thank you for these words of wisdom and the reminiscing. I should take my signed LP over to John and Kala’s and play it. Miss you friend.
I so dearly love you, KaKa! As I was referring to some of those songs, I saw you in my vision and smiled. If anyone knows, you know.
Yes it was time for a word from Scott. While reading this the old Imperials song “He didn’t bring us this far to leave us” came to mind.
Thank you, Jon. Your reference to the Imperials is pitch perfect on two levels: your sharing that song (awesome!) and the fact that I was *just* talking about them with another buddy 😁
I love this picture of a choir of sometimes limping ragamuffin (as Brennan Manning would say) warriors lifting their voices to sing together…. desert sand still in their toes. Reminds me give my broken self a break… to give the less than arrived around me a break… and just sing in our broken unison the love song of the forever grateful. Thank you, Scott, for using your amazing gift to paint this beautiful call to grace!
My sister, I envy your gift of saying more in a few sentences than it takes me a whole essay to write! I’m forever grateful, dear one. Thank you especially for sharing in the love of all things gospel.