â€œFix these words of mine in your hearts and minds; tie them as symbols on your hands and bind them to your foreheads.â€ Deuteronomy 11:18
I went into H and R Block last night with much fear and trembling. We had a lot of anxiety about our taxes and our prognosis was not good. After an hour and a half, Pat (my new favorite person), pushed the little button on her screen that totals everything up and there it was: not only did we not owe, we would be getting money back!
As I walked out the door of their office toward the street where I had parked, without meaning to, I burst into song. One of the worship choruses we sing just came pouring out. As I drove to my husbandâ€™s office to share our good news with him, I found myself belting out yet another hymn we sing at church.
I was struck by the gift of songâ€”the way that words that are not our own become our own. The way a common language of praise and petition grows in the minds and hearts of a church family, creating language for all occasion; language that speaks what is true about â€œwhat is God and what is notâ€ for every circumstance, and for all time.
My husband is very intentional about what we as a church sing. He is big about â€˜substanceâ€™ trumping â€˜style.â€™ I think heâ€™s rightâ€”the songs that found their way out from my spirit onto my lips yesterday did not come because of their rhythm, ethnic background, or genre. They came out because what they say described what is true about me and about God. They came out because, in my situation yesterday, they gave words to the gratitude and thanksgiving I felt toward a God who did not abandon us. They came out because I needed to testify, to say what was true in my situation, and they gave me the words to do it.