I was sitting on my swivel chair (used as my “wheelchair” around the house) in front of our bedroom window. I was listening to praise music as my morning devotion since I could not sing during those long months. The song crescendoed to a very glorious chorus and my spirit soared to great heights. As I was on that realm of light and delight and gravity-free, something posed a question in my heart, “If you were granted just one miracle, what would it be – for you to be able to walk again but not sing or sing but not be able to walk? You can choose only one.”
To this, I instantaneously raised my arms and answered audibly, tears streaming down my face, “I want to be able to sing! I will always choose to sing God’s praise! Please, please, make me to sing!” And I cried and cried.
That was 5 or 6 years ago, and I had been given the glorious opportunity to sing praises in my morning and evening private worship ever since.
Recently, Faith, my good friend and a sister in Christ who is young enough to be my daughter, wrote me on FB informing me that her beloved daddy has gone to be with Jesus. I felt so sorrowful for her and her beloved mama who is also my friend. A kind of sorrow that you cannot put into words. I thought about the Word, from Genesis to Revelation, but I knew that the verses which I may send them – they know them by heart, too. So I kept silent and thought about them with love.
Last night, as I awoke from yet another short nap (my third that day because I haven’t been feeling well lately), I thought about my young friend Faith and her Dad whom she misses so much, and I thought about my health – how long will the illness and suffering last, when will healing come? I thought about my own very young children. My heart was gripped with sorrow.
It was time to get up and sing praises to the Lord and pray and read the Bible (Felix was in the other room already praising and worshiping). But it was one of those times that I didn’t know what to say in my prayer. That I didn’t even know how and where to start. But I knew something that I could do with my whole sorrowing heart, soul, mind, and weak, ailing body – sing. Just sing to God. Sing and let my soul and heart express that which my lips could not. Sing with every weak fiber of my body and let the lyrics and melody speak that which I do not understand. And I needed not understand everything. It sufficed me to know that my God knows everything.
The Lord will command His lovingkindness in the daytime,
And in the night His song shall be with me—
A prayer to the God of my life. (Ps. 42:8)
Later on in our dimly-lit bedroom, I whispered to my husband about the peace that passes all understanding. I asked him how one could be still in the midst of great physical suffering, when part of the body becomes numb drawing the breath out and bringing the body into spiralling dizziness, weakness, and gasping for breath? One could be still, with heart and mind at rest in God, because the peace that passes all understanding dwells in him or her. And this peace, the people of the world can never comprehend or grasp.
I told my husband, as tears began to fall, that this, this peace, is with me. No, I need not understand everything.
and the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, will guard your hearts and minds through Christ Jesus. (Phil. 4:7)
I might be linking up with these lovely blogs.
Journey with Jesus,