"Sing to the Lord with grateful praise; make music to our God on the harp."
-Psalm 147:7
My neighbor has been playing harp on her porch every Sunday morning, y’all. I’m NOT KIDDING. It has been the sweetest gift each Sunday, to hear old old hymns come floating through our windows, reminding us that no matter what we are facing as a nation, as a globe, in a season where work and school and life as we know it feels drastically different and chaotic, we’ve got a reason to sing. In the midst of what feels like almost everything getting flipped upside-down, there is an upside down kingdom that’s coming, and an upside down God who bends low to meet us and lift our heads when we feel that we can’t go on any longer.
I’m so grateful for this tangible reminder from my sweet neighbor on the harp each Sunday, that no matter what we’re facing, there’s a God whose love surrounds us in pandemics and lost jobs and lost lives. There is a God whose love is extravagant even when the budget is tight. There is a God whose love can meet us in every low valley, in every dark night of the soul, in every lonely and terrifying moment that tells you all is not well and you will never be OK. God’s love can meet us there because He’s already been through it. His love is a love that has knocked down the gates of hell and came back to sing the earth a song of death undone. He’s been in a tomb and walked out of it, and I think He knows it’s good for our souls to remember that and to sing about it. For when we sing, we enter into that rhythm and cadence of home… away… home.
All is not well here now, but one day… all will be well, and we can sing in the tension because there is a God whose attention is on us and whose love is for us. Lord, help me to sing with grateful praise even on the days I don’t have answers or peace or certainty about my circumstances. Thank you that even in the midst of the chaos, there’s hope grounded in an empty grave.
