Hey you, I'm so glad you stopped by. I’m Chris, mama to three pixies and wife to one Norse-man. Welcome to my blog. I write about living the lyrics of the cross. Lyrics of life, love, faith, and the pursuit of beauty. I hope we become dear friends. 

She Wakes Up Singing

She Wakes Up Singing

It was still quiet in the house, and pushing close to 9am. After ten more minutes of silence, I thought it was time to check the youngest pixie. Zion is usually awake by this point of the morning, and I always know it because she wakes up singing. No matter what, this little voice likes to greet the dawn with her song. As I walked into the great room I could hear her melody from the balcony, “Impossible ... woah! Impossible.”

Our friend, Lacey Sturm, is a talented musician and songwriter. She stayed with us for a couple of weeks at the beginning of this year, and the girls had a blast rocking out to dance parties with her. Her song, “Impossible” is a favorite among the girls. Zion especially seems to gravitate to belting out the hard rock lyrics.

It’s not always one of Lacey’s songs. Sometimes I wake to hear her melody, “Bless the Lord, oh my soul, oh my soul.” And some days, Zion makes up her own lyrics. Two days ago, she sang:

I love Jesus and God                                                                                                                   They’re the Ones in charge.

Tim and I got a good laugh out of that. At least her theology is correct.

Regardless, Zion, at the age of three, has figured out that mankind cannot live without a song. It is in our nature, as persons created in the imago dei, to sing. It identifies us as creatures with souls. 

A New Song

I recently watched a short film on Eugene Peterson and Bono talking about their love for the Psalms. Of particular focus was Psalm 40.

I will sing, sing a new song.

I will sing, sing a new song.

How long to sing this song

How long to sing this song         

Any U2 fan, will attest to the power of U2’s version of this Psalm. I was struck by how these two very different men had become friends through the medium of art and the power of the Word of God. 

The Psalms beg to be sung. The Father has graciously given us a medium of art through which to express His truth. Our whole life is an offering to be sung to the Giver of all good gifts. He wants us to sing a new song.

Our days are filled with struggle. Yet, we persevere, and often rise from the ashes. When this happens, we are given a new song. A voice of praise to our God. God wants us to sing that new song. Our melody can strengthen the weak, encourage the downtrodden, bind the brokenhearted. 

I recall our pastor at St. Aldates sharing a story one Sunday of young lady who was a hairdresser but her dreams lay elsewhere. So, she began to study and spent hours after work, exhausted, but pressing on, learning her new craft. When asked why she was trying to do more than hairdressing (this is no slam on hair stylists; the Lord knows, we all need them) she replied, “There must be better songs to sing than this.”

A better song. A new song. A hymn of praise to our God.

The rhythm of life creates it’s own melody. So often in certain periods of my own life, certain songs mark my path, like an altar built to memorialize. I can hear that song years later, and recall all that the Lord taught me in that season. He gives us a new song. A better song, perhaps.

Singing Over Me

Not only does the Father give us a new song. He sings His affection over us. Zephaniah 3:17 testifies to the great love song of the Divine: “He will take great delight in you; in His love He will no longer rebuke you, but will rejoice over you with singing.

His is a song of love. It is a song of great affection. He rejoices in us, His creation. This shows us how delighted our God is in us.

When we love something, we praise it. C.S. Lewis, in Reflections on the Psalms, says, “I had never noticed that all enjoyment spontaneously overflows into praise.” He goes on to to explain how when a man values something, he calls other people’s attention to it. We want others to see how lovely our lover is, how beautiful the rose is, how innocent the child is. We do this because we care about the lover, the flower, the son or daughter.

The Divine cares about us, and His affection results in song.

I cannot help but wonder what lyrics compose the song sung over me. I only know that the Holy One sings it, and it’s melody is Divine. If the One with the splintered hands can delight in me, how can my affection not spontaneously overflow into song? How can I not wake up singing?

And through it all, I hear a melody, the lyrics of the Cross being sung by a tiny, young voice. May I join her each day and wake up singing…

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